Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Act 1

It was quiet, in the afterlife. No troubles, just floating in an expanse of darkness. After the chaos of life, what more could she ask for?
Sometimes memories would surface in her consciousness. Friends, family, even those who wished her dead passed by with a fond haze. They couldn’t hurt or help her now, so why feel emotions like fear or hatred? Instead, the only feeling that penetrated the driftless void was love.

Love for those she knew. Love for the experiences. Love for the chances she was given, and the life she lived. ‘This is a miracle, what more could I ask for?’ The thought danced around in her brain. The soul that was floating around in the expanse, outside of time, seemed to have the same resolution and end that the others around them were experiencing. There was no reincarnation for these souls, not like the Afterans. No, the green lights had to return to walk land again. The red lights however, got to experience eternal love and peace.

There had only been one, in all of the red lights history, that flickered back and forth between this realm and the realm of the living. That soul was never seen again.

On a rare occasion, a specifically strong red light was turned green, and forced to walk the complicated ground of the physical plane again.

The soul once called Pyrrha thought that it must be a sad existence to have to try again and again. They thought it was nicer to simply float in the infinite darkness of love and warmth. Any regrets faded here. After so long, this soul had found peace.

It was an indescribable amount of time- for time didn’t apply here- when the feeling of love and understanding started to become thick like honey. A figure walked slowly through the floating lights. A long time ago (or perhaps not so long ago?) the soul had akined the floating lights to fireflies in the night sky. As the figure ambled through the other souls, Pyrrha seemed to have that thought again.

The thought felt shaper than most, jerking her out of the blissful simple soul like feeling for a moment. Then the feeling settled back again as the figure got closer. If the soul had a body, it would have sighed. The feeling of being a person again, of having a name and a gender was heavy. The soul pushed it all away and embraced the feeling that seemed to follow the figure approaching them.

Was it approaching them? Or simply meandering in their direction? The question is quickly answered as the figure stops in front of the bright vermillion light.

“Hello there,” A warm voice comes from the figure, despite not moving its lips. The soul seems to flicker, like a star in the night sky in response. The figure chuckles. The sound seems to alight something in the consciousness of the soul. A feeling. Outlines of memories.

The woman figure, seemingly made of metal, holds a soft smile. The soul suddenly has a word on the tip of its tongue- if it had a tongue.

“No, I am not your mother,” The figure chuckles again, “I’m sorry to jostle your sleep little one, but I don’t think your story is over”. The woman reaches out gently toward the soul, and it dims in response.

‘Over? No! My journey is over! Please, Let me rest! It is so cozy here; I don’t want to experience weight again!’ the soul pleads. The woman's face, while still filled with warmth and a motherly gaze, softens into sadness.

“I understand my dear. But you have such a brilliant light, even I can not stand to see it cease to burn,” her voice is tinged with empathy. The soul doesn’t respond, but instead seems to flash uncomfortably.

“Ultimately, this is your decision, I would never make anyone do anything they don’t want to. This is your choice… so… what are you?” The woman takes a step back from the bright light. The light then notices how much larger it actually seems to be from the others. Most are the same size, but many shine at different levels of intensity.

‘What are you?’ bounces around in their consciousness so much so that their thoughts seem to become clearer. Memories begin to pass through them. A voice, lost long ago, reappears.

“What do you want to be when you get older?” the soul feels a twinge in, what would be their heart, at the voice. An answer, made by themselves long ago responds:

“A huntress!” Such a small but proud voice.

No longer does the soul seem to drift in the feeling of warmth and love, but others break through the barrier; yearning, embarrassment, excitement, determination, adoration, and even regret, all flow through her.

Regret seems to settle lightly over her like a veil. Regret that she wasn’t able to stay and have more adventures with her team. To hug her loved ones again. To see her best friend grow into the kind and courageous person she knew he could be. She looks up to the woman finally.

“I am a huntress. But most of all, a daughter, a student, a mentor, and above all else… a friend,” Pyrrha replies, her tone firm, but her voice shaky. The woman raises her eyebrows knowingly, as she looks her over like a proud mother.

Pyrrha freezes as she seems to come to a sudden realization. She spoke. She looks down, and she has hands. In her moment of reflection, she seemed to connect with who she was before and became corporal. She had a body once again, if even just partially see through, and glowing with the light of her own soul.

Her long red hair is down, and she wears nothing but a long elegant red dress. Her green eyes glowing with both love and sadness. She is in her truest form. The form of her soul.

“Is this your choice?” The metal woman asks. Pyrrha’s form begins to shake. She crosses her arms and crumples in on herself. A part of her soul begs her to go back to sleep, to experience peace once again. But upon seeing her own hands and feet. Feeling the weight of her memories, and a promise for something… something?

“What choice am I making?” she asks the woman. The woman tilts her head slightly.

“How astute… the choice to go back and live your life as you should have,” the woman holds out her hand, “I can not fix all that the brothers have broken and twisted, but I can offer help in some cases”. It's the only explanation she offers. Pyrrha doesn’t quite understand what the woman is saying, but her soul seems to.

She looks to the left, then closes her eyes. She focuses on the weight of her memories again and wiggles her toes. She rocks back and forth on her feet, and entwines her own hands together, feeling her own soul's warmth in their palms.

The deepest part of her soul that is screaming to go back to the peace and tranquility, quiets, as if going to pout in the corner. It knows it will not win anymore.

Pyrrha finally looks back at the woman, who's motherly aire makes her heart yearn for her own mother once again. Her hand is still outstretched.

Though Pyrrha is still shaking, weak, timid and physically unsure, she takes her hand. When she does, the light of her soul that was lighting up around her, returns back into her form. She no longer glows but is solid. Her feet finally feel the ground underneath. The weight of living takes her breath for a second. She inhales and a sadness envelopes her, before she lets it out, and pure elation takes its place. Her heart feels full.

“Who are you?” The woman asks again, wisely.

“I… am Pyrrha,” the once simple soul responds. She stands at her full height, proud and sure. But her eyes glisten, and a single tear streaks down her cheek.

Pyrrha blinks and the space changes slightly. No longer was she surrounded by her fellow red lit souls, but instead by the green Afterens. All slowly passing by the pair, on their way towards their next life, whatever they may be. ‘I must be one of them now’ Pyrrha muses, walking hand in hand with the motherly blacksmith.

The woman finally let's go as she approaches a more classical style forge. Not like those found at any academy or school, but like one found in the simplest of small towns. Pyrrha can’t help but stare into the flames. The way it dances entrances her, gives her a sort of comfort she hasn’t experienced in a long time. She steps closer and closer to it, feeling actual heat again, and not just the memory of it.

Her eyes flicker down to the base of the forge. Countless embers reside there. A name, hot and angry crosses her mind: Cinder. Her blood boils, and she lets out a squeak as she jumps away from the forge. A mix of emotions, long smothered by the abyss, arise.

The blacksmith watched Pyrrha with understanding. She knows the child’s story and sympathizes with her plight. As the young girl jumps back, letting out a sharp yell of surprise, fear, and anger. The blacksmith steps forward and places a hand on her shoulder.

At that moment the pain seems to dull. The aura of the woman is strong, even though she is no longer just a soul, the weight of it is still ever-present.

“I do not have your weapon, dear, so I cannot offer you to be who you once were,” the woman steps back and gestures to a simple table, “but if you wish, you could make it yourself”.

After a brief hesitation, Pyrrha steps up to the table, and carefully trails her fingers along some of the intricate wood carvings. She stops at the carvings of two dragons: Familiar, but distant like a dream. She feels so small looking up to the metal woman.

“But I don’t know how to carve,” she admits, feeling like a small inquisitive child.

“I think you’ll find that you do,” the blacksmith hums. Suddenly a chair appears behind Pyrrha, and with all the grace blessed to her from years of fighting, she takes a seat at the table that is just a tad too big for her.

A block of wood appears right in front of her, and almost if driven by an outside force, takes it in her hands. The length reaches from her wrist to her fingertips, with the width and depth of two fingers. As she inspects it, imagining how to possibly go about carving such a thing (she remembers art wasn’t really her forte) a faint outline begins to appear on the block. Shocked, she stops and blinks a few times before flipping the block back over.

This time, her precious spear is all drawn out in complete detail. She doesn’t have time to fully process how it got there, before the warm presence of the blacksmith appears behind her.

“Here,” she gently presses a whittling knife into her free hand, and guides it to the block, before letting go. Pyrrha stares at her hands, dumbfounded.

“What if I mess up?” she asks, a bubble of hysteria rising. She looks up to the woman, desperately wanting to both call her mother, and for her to transform into the woman she knew as mother at the same time. She starts to feel lost and conflicted, like a kid just old enough to face the reality of the real world but recognizing that it is too much for them to comprehend.
The blacksmith rests a hand on her shoulder.

“You won't,” she replies with total confidence. Pyrrha opens her mouth to rebuttal but is cut off.

“You won’t because you’ve done it before. Your weapon is a part of your soul, so no matter how you make it, it won’t be wrong,” she moves her hand to the girl's cheek. A single tear escapes Pyrrha’s eyes once again. With newfound determination, she lines the knife up to the block, and starts to peel away layers.

Though she’s never worked with such a tool in such a way, the innate knowledge seems to flow into her from simply being in this space. Just like how she knew that the green lights were Afterens, and how the red lights were those from Remnant, it was just a part of knowing.

As she delicately strips away a chunk of wood, her eyes flicker across the table to the two dragon statues. Just like how she knows that those two are the brother gods. It wasn’t a revelation, but simply a thought that made sense. It fit like a jigsaw piece in her mind.

Little by little she whittled away at the wood. As she got closer, she began to see her beloved weapon take shape, and her confidence in each movement soared.
Pyrrha didn’t know how long she sat there working for. This space was still outside time, and since she was still technically dead, she didn’t tire nor hunger. But eventually she finished her beloved spear. But she wasn’t done. With one hand she puts the finished piece down and holds out the other expectantly. A block the same thickness as the first appears, but much more square in height and length. Already like a pro, she imagines her shield, and the lines appear on the wood. Without hesitation she dives back in.

When she was hovering as a soul, the space was quiet and peaceful. Here, with the blacksmith, it is different. Here the forge sputters and crackles. The blacksmith switches between whittling and hammering at the anvil that seems to appear and disappear at will. Each sound is different in the space, but it isn’t demanding on the ears. Even the sound the blacksmith makes whenever she moves around sounds like metal on metal; But none of it is harsh. Instead, there is a sort of heartbeat to the space. A flow. A breath.

The quiet here is louder, but still peaceful. Pyrrha wonders momentarily if the blacksmith will let her stay here and whittle away for all eternity.

“Are you finished?” The woman asks gently, the exact moment that Pyrrha thinks ‘that's it, they are done’.

“Yes,” she answers simply. She puts the knife down, and holds the tiny copies of her weapons, one in each hand.

“Now, come with me,” The blacksmith beacons her toward the forge. Pyrrha hesitates, but the warmth coming from the woman outweighs the nervousness she feels. When she arrives at her side, the woman holds out a hand. Knowing exactly what she was waiting for, Pyrrha places the wooden weapons on her outstretched palm.

With a flick of her wrist, the blacksmith tosses them into the forge.

Pyrrha jumps in surprise. ‘All that work for nothing? Were they not good enough?’ She opens her mouth to voice her questions but stops as she watches the blacksmith pick up a large pair of tongs and reach into the flames. Effortlessly she grabs ahold of something and pulls it out.

Shining like new, the blacksmith pulls Milo out first, and places it right in Pyrrha’s hands. Despite coming right from the flames, it isn’t hot at all. Instead, as she holds it, she begins to feel more grounded, surer of herself, more whole.

The blacksmith pulls out Akouo next, and as Pyrrha grasps it, she feels a sense of self confidence that she had long forgotten.

“Is this what you are?” the woman asks. Pyrrha looks between her two weapons.

“Yes,” she responds with absolution, taking a strong stance, her muscle memory flowing back naturally. The woman smiles warmly.

“It suits you, warrior,” she hums, “It’s almost time for you to go. Remember, you know how to come see me whenever you feel lost. I’ll always be here…” The woman's voice starts to fade as

Pyrrha finds herself falling, falling through the darkness.

She clings to Akouo and Milo desperately, trying to make herself as small as possible. She doesn’t know when she’ll hit the ground, or whatever else she is surely making her way toward.

She zooms through the black expanse like a shooting star, leaving a trail of bright red in her wake. Pyrrha doesn’t know where she's going, or what it’ll be like when she gets there, but one thing is for sure… she is alive and on her way back home.

Chapter Text

In the middle of an acre, far from the base of the tree, one of its roots breaks the ground and arches upward. Almost a sapling in its own right, with its own plethora of multicolored leaves. Normally vacant of movement, on this particular day the bark shifts and molds, a figure taking shape.

A creature quite unlike the normal denizens of the Ever After, the being is curled in on themselves. The figure didn’t leave the root of the tree for quite some time, but two days later, at the pinnacle of a fiery red sunset, the bark cracked.

Bursting forth from its encasement, a blast of silver covers the surrounding area, before dissipating, and leaving the creature slumped upon the ground.

Pyrrha didn’t feel the harsh landing like she was expecting, but she did feel the soft grass slide underneath her as she rolled from the tree. She opens her eyes and is greeted with a beautiful sight.

Rolling green hills dance for miles, until they abruptly stop at the edge of the acre. ‘How did I know that it's called an acre? Is it even really what it's called, or did I just make it up?’ she thinks, as she stretches out her legs, getting used to the feeling of having a body once again. She tries to stand, but finds herself too wobbly to do so. Instead, she opts to sit back and watch the sunset: the bright red and orange hues, blending beautifully into the blue of the sky, contrasting the rich green of the ground.

As the sun lowers, it gets darker and darker, but Pyrrha feels no need to move. There is no rush, so why break the quiet of this land? The stars find their time to shine, but ‘there seems to be something missing in the sky?’. Pyrrha can’t seem to shake off the feeling despite her best efforts.

And despite the calm of the land, a familiar gnawing scratches at her stomach. For a moment she fears that she might already be dying again, even after just coming from the tree! Then it lets out a sound, one not so easily forgotten.

She cracks a smile at her ridiculousness. Then a chuckle. Finally, a hearty laugh. The pleasant sound rings out in the darkness and quiet.

‘How could I forget what hunger was?’ she looks around, ‘I’m sure there is something edible around here somewhere’. But in the darkness of the night, she can’t see anything. Another feeling grows and settles in her stomach: uncertainty.

She stands up with little effort, now that she is no longer thinking about it, and takes a step. There is only one thing fairly visible to her, and that is the root of the tree she just came from. She takes another step, and as she lowers her foot, she steps on something movable and reflective. In one fluid motion she picks up her precious weapons, and holds them at the ready. The feeling of uncertainty is met with another; That of courage.

With all the strength and fluidity of someone who wasn’t just reborn a couple of hours earlier, she climbs to the top of the root. Just ten feet off the ground, she can’t see anything new, except for the faint outline of the tree and other acres in the distance.

A flicker of light here and there seems to come through, but otherwise, nothing. She lets out an audible sigh, and drops to the ground.

Despite her stomach's protests, she decides to stay there for the night. With the tree behind her back, her spear across her lap, and her shield acting as a makeshift blanket, she looks up at the stars once again.

She knows she should be going home, but which way is home? She feels a tug behind her, toward the tree. Perhaps that is where she should go?

Sleep tugs at her consciousness. She hasn’t been back for even half a day, and she's already desperate for sleep and food. ‘I guess when you have been dead for goodness knows how long, being back really takes a toll on one's body.’ the thought echoes in her mind.

Her eyes start to drift closed, and between the twinkle of the stars, and the ever so faint heartbeat coming from the tree behind her, Pyrrha feels at peace.

Despite the tranquility of the world around her Pyrrha did not sleep well. Having a body again is disorienting as it is, but having to sleep on the hard ground, against a rough tree is not the way one would describe a solid night of sleep. Not to mention that between the sound of footsteps coming over the hill, and her stomach protesting the lack of nutrients loudly, Pyrrha woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“Oh! Whatever might you be?” A voice appears as the sound of footsteps stop. In a flash, Pyrrha is up on her feet, weapons at the ready… if only momentarily. Quickly her sense of balance is thrown off, and she tilts sideways. She throws out a hand, and uses her shield to catch herself.

“Oh my, my dear, are you okay?” the voice asks. It's deep and guttural, like a tree swaying in a harsh wind. Pyrrha blinks up at the newcomer, as he stares down curiously at her.

“I’m… okay,” she starts, brushing herself off, “and I am… I… I don’t know what I am”. She answers honestly. She knows she was able to answer the blacksmith when asked, but the answer eludes her now.

“Hmmm, how strange,” the newcomer hums. Pyrrha finally gets a good look at him, and blinks rapidly. In front of her stands a life size nutcracker, like the ones she often saw during nondescript-winter-holiday. She puts a hand to her head in deep thought: ‘nondescript… Now what is that all about? And what is a nutcracker?’ she asks herself.

“Are you sure you are okay? I don’t know much about… whatever you are, but you look disgruntled… and possibly famished,” he offers a hand, and Pyrrha gingerly takes it. He helps her up, and her stomach lets out a roar.

“I am, uh, a bit peckish, if you don’t mind?” Pyrrha apologizes, hiding a soft blush. The nutcracker laughs, the sound of tree branches hitting each other in the wind.

“I do not. Perhaps after eating something, and drinking another something, will help you remember, hmm?” he lets out a smile, and it leaves Pyrrha wondering how she understood it to be such. Yet she smiles back, and with her weapons in her hands, she follows the friendly nutcracker.

Over and over hills they go, until at last, toward the back edge of the acre, do they finally espy a tiny, yet delightful castle.

“Ah, there it is!” The nutcracker sighs, “our abode. My life partner will be charmed to meet you! We don’t have many guests during the green season”. The more he speaks, the more questions are left to bounce around the woman’s mind. But she stays silent, and observes everything around her.

They enter the castle through the grand front gates, and what awaits them inside is a lavish ballroom with high vaulted ceilings, and magnificent chandeliers. Whether they glow from fire, or something else, Pyrrha isn’t sure, but the room is well lit. Opposite the doors on a raised dais is a large, delicately decorated circular container of some sort.

The nutcracker man strides on through, and right up to what holds Pyrrha's curiosity. A thought passes through her mind, ‘it looks like a music box. I had one as a kid’, but once again she has a hard time understanding the meaning of it- like some kind of background context is missing.

Despite her confusion, she watches from the bottom of the dais steps as the nutcracker rotates a little lever on the side. It takes a few turns before a song starts to play, and a lid lifts off the container. He stops when the lid is fully upright, and the music stops shortly after. Pyrrha watches breathlessly as the daintiest porcelain figure rises up from inside, stretches, and looks around. Her gaze finally lands on their guest, and she stifles a yawn.

“Dear, is it the white season already?” she asks, her voice sounding like clinking fine china.

“No, my love, I found this one next to the root of the tree in our acre. She does not remember what she is, but she is quite hungry,” the nutcracker answers formally, but with a loving tone.

“Then we must feed them,” the lady says factually. She carefully steps out of the box, and as her feet hit the ground it makes a high ‘clink’. Pyrrha is not quite sure why, but the sound makes her jump slightly; a feeling of being afraid that something broke crosses over her.

“Come with us to the kitchen, dear. I’m sure we will have something you can eat,” the porcelain lady approaches their guest, and holds out her dainty hand.

Pyrrha takes it without a second thought. For some reason, she trusts these two, though she doesn’t know why. Upon looking closer at the lady, she notices that she isn’t as tall as herself, but she is super skinny, and wears a short but poofy dress. The colors and decorations on her dress are the same as the circular box she came out of.

In no time at all, the three find themselves at the informal table in the back of the castle's kitchen, many plates filled with various food in front of them. Pyrrha looks over them all, none of them look familiar, but ‘what would?’. She ends up grabbing some simple purple biscuits, and an orange muffin with iridescent speckles.

There is a comfortable silence as the three of them eat in peace. The food tastes marvelous, like something ‘out of this world’. Finally, after eating her full, Pyrrha starts with the biggest question on her mind.

“What are you?” she looks between her two hosts.

“I am the steadfast soldier,” the nutcracker replies with a smile, “I am the one who protects this acre and my partner”. Pyrrha nods with an innate understanding.

“And I am the plum princess. I host a ball during the white season for those in every acre to preserve the peace,” she says, her voice tinkling.

“But you may call us Steadfast and Plum,” Plum smiles softly, “do you perhaps remember what you are?”

Pyrrha takes a moment to look down at her hands, her dress, and her feet. She picks up her tea cup, and looks at herself in the reflection of the slightly pink liquid. A tinge of a memory springs back to her. A feeling. She looks over to her weapons, propped up nicely against the wall next to her.

“I think… I think I am some sort of warrior like you, Steadfast,” she answers, looking back toward her hosts.

“That's lovely!” he replies. Plum claps her hands happily.

“I didn’t know I needed help around here, but if the tree sent you, I am glad to accept it!” Steadfast nods in appreciation. Pyrrha shakes her head slightly, before doing so again, but with a bit more vigor. Her bright hair dancing around herself.

“No, I don't think I’m meant to stay here. I’m sorry! It's not anything against you, but…” she trails off, and looks out the window toward the tree, “I’m feeling a pull, in that direction. Perhaps I’m supposed to go there?” The hosts look toward each other in understanding.

“Toward the tree?” Plum asks.

“Yes …No actually, I think it’s beyond the tree. Yesterday it felt like the tree, but today it feels a little more to the right,” she puts a hand to her chin in thought.

“Then that is the direction you should go,” Plum says matter of factly with a pinky in the air, and a bright smile on her face.

“Steadfast can take you to the west border of the acre tomorrow. There is a bazaar in the acre that borders it. I assume you like to wear cloth like you are now?” Pyrrha nods indefinitely, “there is a cloth seller or two at that bazaar if you wish for a change. The dress you have now is absolutely lovely, but not good for fighting. If what you say you are is true, you need something more appropriate”.

“Why tomorrow?” Pyrrha asks.

“Because it isn’t safe to travel at night, and by the time we would get there, it would already be deep into the afternoon,” Steadfast answers. Plum nods in agreement.

“You are most welcome to stay the night, and we will make sure you get to the acre edge tomorrow. You have a long way to travel if you are going to the other side of the tree. We would have failed our mission if you left without feeling at home,” Plum states, looking to her partner.

“I agree,” is his only addition. Pyrrha nods slightly, before a giant grin takes a hold of her face. Plum’s last word dances around in her head and makes her feel at ease. ‘Home’.

Pyrrha spent the rest of the day chatting with Plum, as Steadfast headed back out to survey the land. The two of them explored the many hidden corners of the castle, ate more delicious food, and even danced a few waltzes around the ballroom.

“It's simply impossible for anyone to visit and not find themselves dancing at some point,” Plum had persuaded. Despite Pyrrha’s initial reaction of not knowing how to dance, her body seemed to know what to do.

It was a lovely day, and an even lovelier night, as Pyrrha got to sleep on an actual bed. She might not have gotten up when she did if it hadn't been for the smell of breakfast cooking.

After eating her full, and getting a pack full of breakfast leftovers, she bid farewell to Plum, and they promised to see each other again, in this role or the next. The thought of having a next role, job, or life didn’t sit perfectly with Pyrrha, but she ignored it. That's what Afterens did right? They returned to the tree, then came back as something new. So surely that was her path as well. She still couldn't get over the feeling of something being wrong.

Eventually they reached the edge of the acre. The acre beyond is draped in fog. One so thick that it's hard to see anything. Pyrrha watches the fog roll lazily over the edge into the unknown in the space between the acres.

“Is it… normally like that?” she asks her traveling companion. Steadfast nods pleasantly. Pyrrha takes a deep breath and continues on. The bridge between the two is split; the side of the green rolling hills is quaint with intricate woodwork details. The other side has dark entangling vines that keep their side of the bridge up.

Steadfast does not hesitate to cross, and so Pyrrha does not either. It's only when he stops at the other side of it that she starts to feel fear creep in.

“This is as far as I can lead you, warrior. I cannot go far from home and risk it falling to the Jabberwalker,” he explains kindly, yet with remorse.

“What if I get lost?” Pyrrha asks, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Her shoulders drop, and she feels herself start to cave in slightly.

“Just follow the path, and you’ll make it to the bazaar in no time,” he comforts her, “and you can either continue on to where the Ever After is pulling you, or you can return to stay with Plum and I at our home”. Once again, the word home sticks in her brain, and she nods in response.

“May we meet again, fellow warrior,” his timber voice echoes in between the acres as he crosses back. His shape disappears outside of the fog line, and as soon as he appeared the day before, he was gone.

Pyrrha feels herself curl inwardly farther, and whimpers slightly like a small child. The sound of it echos off of something, and it snaps her out of it. ‘Why am I acting like this? Is this really me?’ she touches Akouo and Milo on her back, ‘no, it can’t be’. She looks forward into the fog dense land, before looking back again. Steadfast and Plum’s voices ring out in her head: ‘home’. She ponders her adventures at the castle for a moment. ‘Yes, that place had felt very home-like. Perhaps after I get what I need, if I still feel off about this place I can go back for a while and train. Then I will continue on past the tree,’ she convinces herself.

Determination anew, she sets off into the fog rich land in search of the bazaar and some new clothes.

Chapter Text

The bazaar was nothing like Pyrrha assumed she had ever seen. Anthropomorphic animals ranging in sizes from six inches to six feet meander about. Some walk on all fours, some walk on two, and even more switch between those.

She receives curious looks from many whom she passes by, but instead of focusing on them she finds herself amazed by the sights before her. Tents of various colors and patterns line the many streets. Inside each one is a table and one, if not two, vendors selling diverse merchandise.

The chorus of chatter made up of friends exchanging pleasantries, buyers bartering, sellers announcing their wares, laughter, and even children shouting, sounds like music to Pyrrha’s ears. She pauses for a moment in the middle of the street.

‘Oh, there is music playing in the distance,’ she realizes with a smile. In this space the fog has let up a little, and she can see quite a good distance around. All she could see on the way here was a small pond or two, a tree here and a tree there, and grass alongside the gravel road. But here the world seems to be in a bubble, the fog trapped outside.

Pyrrha forgot why she had come here for a time, and instead meandered around and took in the sights and the sounds. It was far from quiet here, and while it wasn’t necessarily peaceful, it wasn’t unfriendly or turbulent in the least. No, it was happy and warm here.

Two bird children run a few circles around Pyrrha before running off again, and the moment leaves the woman smiling from ear to ear, completely awash in the feeling of the place.

After strolling around for a good while, Pyrrha’s eyes alight on a clothing shop. Whether she had passed some before and not noticed, or if this was simply the first one she saw, she did not know. But something drew her to this one specifically. And while she didn’t believe in fate (don’t ask her why she knew that, or why she felt that way) she felt a certain kind of aura from the place she couldn’t pass by.

Stepping inside the periwinkle blue tent, the first thing she sees is a pink hairless cat, standing on their hind legs, and wearing an adorable pink lace sundress complete with a wide brim sun hat.

“Welcome!” the kitty lady purrs pleasantly, putting down a crystal she was looking at, “what are you?”

“A warrior,” Pyrrha answers hesitantly, no longer so sure that this is the best shop for what she is looking for.

“Oh, a warrior! I’ve yet to see one like you,” she dances elegantly around the back counter and strides closer.

“Your dress is lovely, but not quite adapted for movement,” the lady hums, looking Pyrrha up, down, and all around. The cat lady is at least a head shorter than her, which makes the odd encounter all the more endearing.

“That's why I came to the bazaar,” Pyrrha admits. The cat lady stands up straight and claps her paws together.

“Then you came to the right place! I do love a challenge, if you’ll allow me, I will gladly make you something,” she stands sweetly, her paws together, and her head tilted to the side. Between her stance, the kind smile on her face, and her tail swaying blissfully behind her, Pyrrha couldn’t find it within herself to say no. But then a thought occurred to her.

“How much would it be?” The redhead drops eye contact to look at the clothes around her. ‘ How could I have forgotten something so simple? I need money to buy things! I should have asked Plum before I left ’.

“Oh! Hmm… how about a hug and some of those Bluebon Filltons I smell from that bag of yours?” she offers, looking hungrily at the bag at her customer's side. ‘ Of course, Plum and Steadfast didn’t let me leave without something to purchase things with. What was that I thought I needed again? ’ Pyrrha speculated. At that very moment the cat lady waited anxiously, wondering if she was perhaps asking too much.

“It's a deal,” Pyrrha finally said, much to the cat lady’s relief.

“Please, come back here behind the table so we can be out of the way of other customers if they come in,” she beacons her to follow. The two stand in the small open space behind the vendor’s table, and the cat lady starts to take her measurements.

“Now my dear,” the spritely cat seamstress says after inspecting Pyrrha’s arms and shoulders left and right, “I’m going to need you to take off that dress in order to properly inspect how you move”. She steps back and waits expectantly with a soft face.

The notion of stripping in front of a stranger is one thing, but that accompanied by the open tent flap mere feet away in a busy market atmosphere? Her fear starts to rise again, but this time with embarrassment as a tag along. A blush the shade of her own hair begins to creep along her face. But as the cat seamstress tilts her head, a bit perplexed at what is causing her to hesitate, a thought occurs to her: ‘ no one here has a body like mine. And not all of those I've seen were wearing clothes. Perhaps being naked will not draw any attention… ’ the thought dies in her head, and without further ado, Pyrrha began to strip.

The next fifteen minutes were filled with the seamstresses' questions as she measured and made notes. “How far does your back turn?” “Can you touch your toes?” “How are your legs so strong despite being much thinner than my own?” “What is the extent of your leg rotation?” “How do you balance on such small feet?” “Now do you prefer to walk on two legs, or all four?” The last question has Pyrrha on the edge of giggling.

“Two only. I can’t walk on four,” she answers. During all this time she was doing her best to focus on answering the questions, and not how exposed she felt. But this was the question that made her succeed in that effort.

“That was going to be my next question! You have such long back legs in comparison to your front, that I wondered…” she chitters, her own form of laughter. She takes a few more notes, then steps back once again.

“Okay, warrior, you may put your dress back on. Now for the fun part! Discussing the style!” The seamstress hops a little bit in excitement.

Faster than it took to undress, Pyrrha is dressed once again. ‘ There was no reason to be embarrassed, there was no reason to be embarrassed, there was no reason to- ’ she repeats the mantra over and over again in her head.

“Now, we already know that red is a dashing color on you, but what if we add-” the lady chatters on, much to Pyrrha’s amusement. She finds herself enamored by her actions. From the way she will talk with her paws, to the way she bounces when she's pleased, she can’t help but feel comforted by the cat lady. But in the back of her heart, she feels a pang of longing. A feeling of missing someone. Someone excitable and kindhearted, also in pink.

She notices the cat lady’s ears twitch toward a new customer coming in, and she feels another, slightly less sharp pain. A different soul comes to mind. Together they leave an ache that doesn’t diminish. Longing for someone that she doesn’t remember; it's the worst feeling she’s felt in a long time.

It feels like ages since the last time Pyrrha has run a training routine. Her weapons in her hands, she runs a simple drill, but the feeling that courses through her makes her want more. Her body aches for something more, for something or someone to fight, but she holds back.

There is only a little bit of room in this section of the bazaar, and a small crowd has gathered to watch the warrior do her dance. Some deep knowledge, as deep as her muscle memory, helps her to ignore the stares of the crowd; to take their excitement in stride. It feels completely natural.

As Pyrrha finishes her routine, she takes a moment to collect herself, then returns to the seamstress. The cat lady is clapping her hands excitedly.

“Oh, that outfit works wonders on you! It's stylish and gives you the movement you need! Oh, I am so excited,” she both purrs and chitters.

The outfit that Pyrrha now dons is relatively simple. A sleeveless dark red shirt with gold trim, accompanied by a pleated sideways high low skirt, also red trimmed in gold, the longest part no further than her knee. As well as a hidden pair of shorts, and a warm toned brown belt with removable pouches.

It was simple. Almost too simple in Pyrrha’s mind, but she knew the lady was doing her best with what she had, and with the short time frame of that day.

“When we get back to the tent I’ll draw you a map to the Alloy acre, so you can go find that new armorsmith…” the seamstress prattles on as the two make the short trek back to her store. Eyes follow them with interest and wonder. Pyrrha’s chest tightens at the feeling. It’s reminiscent of something. There is a bad aftertaste to it but… why is it overwhelmed by a feeling of longing? All these feelings of missing something, what could they mean? What do they point to? She isn’t sure, but she knows now isn’t the time to think about it.

“Here is your dress, dear Warrior,” they’ve made it back to the little tent shop, and the seamstress holds out the dress that Pyrrha had been wearing up until now, all folded up. She takes it from her gingerly. A part of her says she doesn’t need it anymore; the lady should take it and reuse it for something. But there is a sentimental part of her that wants to keep it. There is no other rhyme or reason to, but she longs for things that she can call her own.

With a slight nod, she opens the pack she got from Plum, carefully sliding it next to the wrapped goodies. She then holds it out for the seamstress.

“Take the treat that you wished for payment,” Pyrrha tells her with a smile on her face. The cat lady is already doing a little jig from one foot to another in excitement. She takes a small individually wrapped star shaped cake from the jumble of things.

“Oh, you got this from Plum, didn’t you?” she purrs, holding the goodie delicately, yet close to her heart.

“How did you know?” Pyrrha asks, just a bit taken aback.

“Because it's hard to find them anywhere else here in the Ever After. She makes a whole bunch of them for the grand ball of the white season. Most of the time there are leftovers, and she will bring them here to the bazaar to sell. They always go so fast,” she answers lightly, yet a bit rushed. The seamstress finally puts the cake down on the table behind her and holds out her arms. With an understanding nod, Pyrrha steps forward and hugs her back. The cat lady is warm, and purrs ever so softly.

“Oh ho, you give wonderful hugs,” she chitters, a paw slightly over her mouth in amusement. Pyrrha drops her head down slightly.

“Thank you,”

“Thank you , Warrior. It was quite fun working with you. I do hope to see you again,” she says her goodbyes as Pyrrha waves back, and heads off into the crowd once again. She walks aimlessly for a while, enjoying her new stretch of movement. But the feeling of meandering aimlessly sets in, until that is all that she feels: aimless.

She contemplates going back to Plum and Steadfast, but a quick glance up, despite the fog, it's obvious that night is beginning to set in. Uncertainty rises into panic. Where to go, what to do, where to stay. Deep instinct seems to fight logical understanding. ‘ Maybe there is an inn of some sort? Do Afterans travel enough to warrant them? Why am I thinking like I am separate from everyone else? Why wouldn’t I just camp out outside? Why do I feel like that is not a safe idea? What is hunting them- I mean us? Why do I want to answer that question with both many things, and one thing? Why can’t I make up my mind? ’ Pyrrha’s head swirls with questions. Her ability to stand evades her, and without noticing it, she leans on the closest sturdy thing.

“Why is my mind a mess? What am I supposed to do?” she asks out loud but pointed at no one. All the same, the feeling of being drawn past the tree becomes stronger, as if pulling her, and not just tugging. She blinks her eyes clear, and stands up straight, leaving her support.

She finds that she had wandered just beyond the edges of the bazaar and leans against a magnificent tree. A thick trunk swirling around itself, before branching out, and then back down. The long thin branches and clumps of diluted green moss that seem to drip downward almost personify sorrow. And yet there is a touch of whimsy too.

Though she doesn’t know where she will be going, whether back to Plum’s palace, or on toward her seemingly inevitable destination, she feels at peace with one decision:

‘This seems as good of a place as any to spend the night. It's close enough to the bazaar that it seems safe and looks far enough away that I wouldn't bother anyone.’ she realizes.

In no time at all the nimble fighter has climbed her way up the trunk of the tree, finding a large flat crook, right where all the branches reach out in various directions. It's the perfect size for her. Leaning back, she looks up, and for the first time while being in this acre, she sees the sky. It's awash in color, just like her first night. Her heart pangs again for something just out of reach.

Just then the wind picks up slightly. The branches of the tree shift, and Pyrrha can almost imagine the sound of twinkling bells coming from it. It sounds… ethereal.

The breeze whips closer and closer. Then she hears a voice speak to her.

‘What do you mourn, child?’ a voice asks. It is not a voice said out loud but sounds like it was sent right into her head. It startles Pyrrha, and she sits up violently.

‘Oh, I’m sorry dear, I didn’t mean to startle you. I merely wondered what is making you mourn so?’ it sounds like the bells that she heard in the wind. She doesn’t dare not respond.

“I… I am not mourning anything. Who are you?” she asks back. The whole tree shutters slightly.

‘I am the Tree of Mourning. Of sorrow and of grief. Those who find me, seek comfort in my branches, are those who feel deep and heartfelt sadness. So, I will ask again… what do you mourn, child?’ the whole tree seems to stop moving, awaiting her response. Pyrrha looks around at all the branches, hoping to maybe glimpse a little creature that she is actually talking to, and that she isn’t talking to an actual tree.

“Nothing is making me sad,” she answers, but something makes her voice waver. She isn’t sure why or how her body seems to be betraying her.

‘Hmmmm,’ the tree hums with understanding, ‘ you may not be sad, but something deep within you is. Tell me your story, child ,’ the tree invites. Pyrrha hesitates. She doesn’t know what that means, entirely, but she can try.

“I don’t know,” she states factually, “I woke up from the tree two nights ago, and sometimes I feel like I know things that don’t fit with this world. I ask myself a question, and I get two answers. One illogical, and one logical. Except the logical one is actually illogical, and the illogical, logical.”

‘Hmmmmm’ the tree only hums deeper in response.

“And this form feels familiar to me. I believe that I am a warrior, that is what I do, but I have this feeling that I am called something else. I remember others. Wisps of those I used to know. Is it common for others to remember their past lives?” she asks the tree, tension high in her voice. She looks around in the branches still. However, now she isn’t looking for anyone. Just answers. There is a pause before the tree replies.

‘Sometimes. But that is only if the soul deemed those from before important to their new role,’ the tree speaks in a light manner, as if bouncing over a touchy subject.

“Why do I barely remember them then? Pink and bouncy… green and gentle… red and pure, and white and ambitious,” she pauses and giggles slightly, a faint trace of a warm smile tracing her face, “Black and sweet, yet proud and defiant. Yellow being…” She pauses, her face flipping from warm and open to scrunched up.

“Now this is where things get jumbled. I remember yellow being fiery, but also yellow being honest and… and…” her heart skips a beat, her tone turning tender “a friend”.

‘Another crossroads in your memory, hmm?’’ the tree speaks once again.

“Yes,” is all she sighs in response.

‘This is your sorrow,’ the tree states, ‘you are here now, in this life, but your soul is still partially stuck in the last. I can offer you warmth and understanding, as is my role, but I cannot answer your questions’. All the leaves on the tree shake. What is said bounces around in Pyrrha’s head for a while, as the breeze seems to toss and tumble about in the branches and leaves.

“Perhaps,” she speaks again, the sun no longer in the sky, “Perhaps I should not be worrying about these questions yet. Something is pulling me that way, past the tree”.

‘What you must seek is there, then.’

“Yes. For now, I should decide on the next course of action,”

‘What do you think that is? ’

“I’ve been telling myself to go back to Plum’s castle. But while with the seamstress, she mentioned that an armorsmith has recently arrived from the tree,”

‘I have heard that as well. What makes you want to go to see the armorsmith?’ the tree questions innocently.

“Because I am a warrior, and a warrior needs protection for battle,” Pyrrha states factually, like it's common knowledge, before stopping, and breaking a bit.

“But what battle? What would I need protection from? Why-” she begins to spiral again, but the tree shutters and butts in.

‘That sounds reasonable. Then your next task is to go to the Alloy acre and get armor from the armorsmith. It is no coincidence that you seem to have a need to go there, right after they appear from the tree, almost the same time as you,’ the tree sways ever so slightly, and all its leaves shimmer in excitement.

‘You may have many questions, child, but trust your gut, no matter what it tells you. Your intuition may be confused, but it is never wrong. It led you to me, and it leads you to the armorsmith. Let it guide you ever onward, ’

Chapter Text

The next morning Pyrrha left the Tree of Mourning with many warm thanks. The troubles in her mind were many, but now they seemed to have quieted. The ever-present pull that guides her has remained taut. Now alongside it she feels a sense of adventure. Of something in the distance that she has to reach. A calling, a desire, or even just curiosity. With a sense of purpose, however short, she leaves the foggy acre, unafraid, to the one beyond.

It would take her half a day to pass through the first acre; the tree told her two stood in her way between them and the Alloy acre. Pyrrha knew that at this rate, she would reach her goal by sunset at least.

The first acre was peaceful, if a bit odd. It looked to her as if she was walking through the ocean, but if the ocean was in the air. She didn’t dwell on the fact that she knew what the ocean was, or what it looked like inside it. It would only drag her down. For now she enjoyed watching the fish swim by her. Some had diamonds on them, some hearts, some clovers, and some that looked like shovels. Even more peculiar were the rare ones decorated with words.

Six of Swords and Seven of Cups were two of the ones she is able to make out. But strangely enough an iridescent fish with the words The Tower seemed to follow her from the moment they encountered each other, to the moment she took her first step on the bridge into the next acre.

It was strange. She felt a pull to that card shaped fish, like it was trying to tell her something. Its eyes had been dark and soulless, but yet, it seemed to lift her spirits a bit.

In the center of the bridge she stops gently, and turns. The fish still swims in the air, watching and waiting. She gives it a soft wave, and like it had been waiting for her to excuse it, the fish swims off. Turning back, she faces down the next acre.

With the suns baring down from their annex, the Quarry acre shines glaringly in a breathtaking array of colors. Taking back up her previous walking pace, Pyrrha continues on.

If the card looking fish, beaded seaweed, and bone and wax coral wasn't eye catching enough, the desert-esque landscape filled with sagebrush type chunks of garnet, jasper, opal, aquamarine, and many others that she can’t name, just laying around, do. A small piece of amber catches her eye, and she pockets it. Some others make her smile, such as a brown sparkly bunny shaped gem the same height as her knee, and an almost perfectly round blue boulder that appears to have glistening stars.

In fact, she's so enamored with a croissant shaped garnet, ‘ or perhaps is it a ruby? ' That she misses the sound of sniffing that echoes through the air.

When it stops, she freezes, all senses suddenly on high alert.

“Searching. Balance. Fix.” A gravelly voice echoes through the terrain. From her vantage point, she can’t see where the voice is coming from. She’d have to move around the giant boulder to her right. But by the stale and almost breathless atmosphere, she can sense that this creature is not peaceful. At least, not to the denizens of this acre.

Pinning herself against the closest rock formation, she slips carefully and silently along to get a glimpse of what seems to be stirring up the area.

“Locating. Disclose. Solve.” A large all black creature sniffs around on all fours. Its limbs are unnaturally long, and its head swivels too far in each direction. It also seems to vibrate as if it isn't quite set in the present, but in the past and future as well. It's unnerving .

‘ The Jabberwalker -’ the thought bursts into Pyrrha’s head, along with the knowledge that that thing means death. Not reincarnation. True death.

Back in the tree, Pyrrha would have jumped at the chance of returning to a simple soul, floating in the endless void. But now that she's back, corporeal, alive, and with a mission, going back to the void is the last thing she wants to do.

Slowly and silently she takes her weapons off of her back, but continues to circle around the Jabberwalker’s searching grounds.

“Hunting. Searching. Listening-” Pyrrha makes a cheeky roll over her shield to make it to the next hiding spot, but the sound of metal on gravel gives her away. She stays deathly silent.

“Concentrating… Sniffing. Seeking.” For a few moments she is frozen to her spot, breathing ever so gently. As it seems to lose its suspicion, she lets out a slow shaky breath. Her heart pumping wildly, but with her head clear, she continues to make her way around.

She has one more hiding place to go before she makes it fully 180 from where she started. The boulders ahead give her the advantage to move forward in the acre. To put the Jabberwalker behind her.

Peeking around the corner, she sees that it is distracted by something; it’s back toward her. With a deep breath, she makes a run for it. Then a scream ripples out through the air.

It's not obvious to Pyrrha at first glance as to who or what made the scream, but as she charges the Jabberwalker, she notices something in its clutches. With a swipe of her arm, she lets her shield go, flying toward the creature's head like a frisbee. It bounces off with perfect precision, and makes its way back to her.

The Jabberwalker now has its attention on Pyrrha, its head tilting side to side. She skids to a halt, doing her best to assess the situation.

“Fight. Consume.” it chatters, before letting out a roar, and dropping its prey. It seems out of the corner of her eye to only be a couple of large rocks, but she knows for a fact that she didn’t imagine that scream. Those rocks must be a being of this world like herself.

The Jabberwalker charges toward her and lets out a screech. Pyrrha in turn raises both her weapons at the ready, and charges back. Her shield out, she bashes the extended claw away, before going after one of its feet. It steps back in time, but retaliates by swinging with its other claw.

Thinking quickly, she rolls in between its two standing legs, and stabs it in the butt. Yet in her calculation of its limbs, she forgot to equate its tail, and in its scurry forward, hits her square on the head.

“Pain. Flee. Retreat.” the Jabberwalker’s voice echoes as it scampers away. Pyrrha has to take a knee as she regains her sense of orientation of which way is up and which is down.

After a minute she reorients herself, and stands back up, she notices the soft sound of rocks grinding on each other. A quick scan of the area and she sees what she was looking for. A pile of rocks, large in size, and light green in color, seem to tremble in fear.

“The Jabberwalker is gone now,” Pyrrha speaks kindly, but with confidence. The pile of rocks stops suddenly, before one rises above the others. Two intricate carved eyes scan the area slowly, before landing upon the girl in front of them.

“Did you fight it off?” the rock creature asks. Its voice is pleasant like two wet smooth stones being rubbed together. Pyrrha merely nods with a soft smile.

“Wow. Thank you,” The rocks start to rise, and soon a body takes shape. A golem just shy of Pyrrha’s height stands before her. Though its individual sections are made of separate pieces, they each fit together like they were made that way. Each rock is smooth and tumbled, quite different from the rocks around them. The next difference that Pyrrha notices is that there are designs carved right into its body. Beautiful and intricate, taking probably hours worth of work.

“I hope it didn’t move on to the village. Which way did it go?” The green golem asks, clearly unaware of Pyrrha’s curious eyes.

“That way,” she points out into the distance.

“Oh good,” it responds, “the village is that way”. It points in the exact other direction. Despite having its face carved into the rock that is its head, its face shifts into a smile.

“Are you… Okay?” Pyrrha asks hesitantly, unsure of how to frame ‘okay’ for the golem.

“Physically, yes. I think I’m more scared than anything else. That thing was ready to eat me in one bite!” it starts shaking again slightly.

“I’m glad you’re not hurt. Would you like me to walk you back to your village?” she offers. ‘ Surely a short detour wouldn’t hurt. Besides, I need to make sure they are truly safe ’ Pyrrha convinces herself.

“Thank you!... what are you?” the golem tilts its head curiously, looking for a way to address their savior.

“I’m a warrior,” she answers simply.

“Wow! I’ve never met a warrior! I wonder what it would be like to fight with no fear like you did-” the golem chatters on and on, as they start the walk back toward the village. Pyrrha can’t help but smile kindly at it. They remind them of a child, one that doesn’t quite understand what it truly means to be a fighter.

Little did Pyrrha know she hit the nail on the head. As they walk into the village, it becomes instantly obvious that she in fact did save a child. The other golems that walk around are about double the size of Pyrrha, and range in all the colors she had seen so far in the acre. Yet they all looked polished, pristine, and delicately carved.

“Quetzal! Quetzal! The Jabberwalker ambushed me! But then Warrior saved me!” The young golem runs into the village and throws itself at a slightly different green golem. This one was the same size as all the other apparent adults. A hush falls over all the others in the vicinity. All of them act startled at the news.

“Jade! Thank goodness you are alright! I thought I told you not to go out alone! What exactly happened?” The larger golem asks. Pyrrha stands awkwardly in the center of the village, mere feet from the reunited pair. All the visible golems are still, watching her with curiosity, but listening to the young one's story.

“I was out collecting pieces for me to get bigger. I thought since it was the day it would be safe. But the Jabberwalker was quieter than I thought! Next thing I know I hear its chattering, and I hide behind some big pieces of granite. As it was searching around, I saw a perfect piece for my hand, and while it suddenly got distracted, I reached out to get it,” it explains excitedly, but slow enough for everyone to follow. Its face falls sadly.

“But I wasn’t fast enough. It turned back around and saw me as I grabbed the piece. Next thing I know I’m being held high in the air and I scream. But as quick as I was picked up, I was back down again! I tried to camouflage myself as I heard fighting going on. The Jabberwalker made a loud noise, scuttered off, and then there was silence. Warrior fought the Jabberwalker and won!” the golem proclaims. Sounds of delight ripple through the village. Every voice is different, but each has that distinct smooth wet rock rubbing sound.

Quite a few of them came up to her to thank her personally. Each one, she noticed, had a very distinct pattern carved into them. Some are a lot more detailed than others, but each one is unique. She finds herself fascinated by them.

“Please, let us find a way to thank you properly,” the golem that her rescue-ee ran to speaks up.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I’m just doing what I was… I’m just doing what I think is right,” Pyrrha explains.

“Still. Where are you on your way to, warrior? Perhaps we can help,” they offer.

“I’m on my way to the armorsmith in the Alloy Acre,” she admits, glancing in the direction of said acre, and then at the sun. It's much farther down on the horizon than she would have liked.

“Then please, stay with us for a night. Some of our traders will be making their way over there first thing tomorrow morning. You can go with them, since safety is in numbers,” they explain, and many of the other golems nod in agreement.

A sense of urgency fills Pyrrha, making her feel stiff and out of place. ‘ Why? ’ she questions, ‘ I am in no rush. No day I have to be there by. And the pull that I feel hasn’t disappeared, or seemed to dull today. And those living here seem nice. I think I’d like to learn more about them ’. Her shoulders drop, and she smiles softly.

“I think I will take you up on that offer,” her smile grows at the excitement that ripples through the village, “now if I may ask, what are you?”

“We are the Enormous Earth Exchangers!” her rescue-ee answers with a giant smile on their face, “welcome to the Quarry Acre!”

The next day Pyrrha finds herself riding along inside a cart filled with elegantly carved crystals and gems. The cart being pulled by an adult turquoise golem. Along next to them is another cart filled with the same, being pulled by another adult golem; This one a fetching obsidian. After spending a night with the earth exchangers, she learned much about their functionality in the world. Afterens purchase by trading, and thus the earth exchangers have been made to stimulate trade by producing things that can be traded for various amounts depending on the ‘buyer’ and ‘seller’.

She also learned that when a new exchanger comes from the tree, they are relatively small. The tree can only give so much. Thus, in order to grow big, each one of them has to collect and practice their craft on the minerals of their body. The more detail and time that has been put into themselves, the older they have been around. When their body is full, and they have no more space to carve upon themselves, they move on and reincarnate.

The turquoise one had told her the night before that they would often go to the Alloy acre to trade, because those in that acre had a higher chance to up the value of their gems in a way that they could not. They didn’t elaborate beyond that, but Pyrrha had a good idea as to what they meant.

A bump in the road sends Pyrrha jolting out of her thoughts. Ahead now the bridge between the acres is clearly visible. This one appears to be a sturdy cobblestone archway.

As they pass over it, she can’t help but feel something familiar in the way the stone is stacked and arranged. ‘ Something from my past ’ she muses ‘ I wonder if I have been here before ’.

The cobblestone bridge passes by them, and suddenly she is surrounded by glistening metal trees. Each one seems to have permanent blossoms. Each one shined to perfection.

“Wow,” she can’t help but exclaim out loud. She lays back on the hard stones and watches the trees that canopy the path.

There is a strange sense of home here that she never expected. Not the type of home that seems to call from her memories, but one more innate than that. One so deep, she finds herself wanting to reach out and call for the trees to come to her. She even reaches out her hand… but nothing happens. ‘ An odd impulsive thought ’ she thinks, staring at her outstretched hand. In a moment of false hope and confusion, she tries again.

She focuses on a singular branch. Wills it to fly into her hand. Sees it happen in her mind's eye. But still, nothing happens. With a huff of irritation, she brings her hand back in, and relaxes back. ‘ Was I more irritated that it didn’t work, or that I thought it would? ’ she asks herself seriously, ‘ and if it did, what good would it do me? ’ she pauses for a long second, pondering it. ‘ I guess it would make retrieving my weapons easier. I wouldn’t have to run and get them. Just call them back to me ’ she admits, then lets out a long sigh ‘ but that is just a fantasy ’. With that the red-haired woman settles farther into the cart of carved gems and closes her eyes. Between the rocking of the cart, and the endless metal around them, she feels at peace, and decides to take that moment to catch up on some lost sleep.

The market in the Alloy acre was quite like how she expected it to be. Much like the marketplace where she got her new outfit, stalls and shops line the pathways. The only difference being the foliage, the lack of fog, and the wares being sold. It didn’t take her long to find the armorsmith.

After all the things Pyrrha had seen in the Ever After, one would think a dragon wouldn’t shock her so. And yet it did. Despite her downright shock and awe at the being, and by the fact that he was the armorsmith she was searching for, Pyrrha acted very professional and cordial when ordering her armor. So much so that the dragon seemed to take a liking to her. Well, either that, or just like the cat lady seamstress, he was just as enamored by what she was and how she moves.

The armorsmith had promised to have her armor done by the next day, and so Pyrrha had decided to spend the rest of the day and the night in the alloy woods. Despite being in a place so unknown, and still at the risk of attack by the Jabberwalker, she still couldn’t help but feel at peace surrounded by so much metal.

At noon the next day she returned to the armorsmith to find her new armor completed. It fit remarkably well, light, yet strong. Her movement not hindered in the least. After paying with many compliments, and with some of the minerals she acquired in the quarry acre, she was on her way.

And now, as she stares out from atop a golden tree at the edge of the Alloy acre, she can’t help but feel nervous and excited to finally follow the pull that grasps at her chest.

There, clearly now south of the tree, is where the invisible string seems to be leading her to. She doesn’t know what awaits her there, or why she needs to be prepared the way she is. But one thing is for certain; she no longer second guesses the thoughts that run amuck through her head. They may not make sense 100% of the time, but they have led her to amazing Afterens, and set her along a track. Sure, she had a run in with the Jabberwalker, but she held her own. She was a warrior. She didn’t know why, but she knew what she could do with that role.

But for now, she needed to know what it was that was drawing her south.

Chapter Text

Act 2

It took Pyrrha a week to get to the cliffs of the beach acre from the tree she climbed in the alloy acre. It shouldn’t have taken that long normally, but she often found herself sidetracked by Afterens looking for a bit of help. Whether it was moving a particularly heavy thing to trade, chasing off the Jabberwalker, or simply collecting food, she found she couldn’t say no.

After a while she began to suspect that she was being used for her niceness. But a large part of her heart disagreed. She had yet to run into a malicious Afteren. And more than that, she was happy to help. Sure, it distracted her from her own mission, but all in all, killing time didn’t weaken the pull.

And so, a week later, the kind warrior in question finds herself looking out over the cliffs. Below her is a small stretch of jungle, then beaches covered in massive shells, followed by endless water. Then… nothing.

The woman stares out into the horizon, her face blank. The pull that she had been following...  ‘Was this really it? Was it leading her out to the ocean? To nothing? Had she been imagining it after all?’ Questions swirled in her head, and for the first time since meeting the Tree of Mourning, Pyrrha felt lost. She felt hollow.

She stayed like that for almost an hour, staring motionlessly out into the ocean. Trapped in her own thoughts. When finally, she decided to turn around, she was met with an old friend.

That familiar tree with its hanging branches, windswept leaves, and ageless wisdom appeared out of nowhere behind her.

‘ So, we meet again ,’ it's bell-like voice chimes in her head, as its wind sweeps across her and makes her hair dance like fire, ‘ what are you mourning this time? ’

“How- how did you get here?” she couldn’t help but ask.

‘ I appear where I am needed. I appeared by the northern market for you before, and now I am here at the southern beach for you again, ’ it responds. The woman lets out a long sigh, turning her head back toward the beach briefly, holding onto a hope that what she was searching for appeared the moment she looked away.

“I was following the pull, and it led me here. But… there is nothing,” her voice trails off. She turns her head toward the tree once more, and slowly starts to walk toward it.

‘ You look much more prepared than before. You met the armorsmith then, ’ it's not a question, but an observation.

“I did. And I’ve been helping Afterens the whole way; it's why it took so long for me to get here,” Pyrrha plants a hand on the sorrowful tree, and feels warmth radiating from it. Odd for a tree.

‘ Did you go farther? Did you check the beach? ’ it questions. This causes her to pause.

“Don’t you think I would be able to see whatever it is I am trying to find from here?”

‘ Perhaps ,’ the bell-like voice of the tree almost hums the thought, ‘ why don’t you go see? If you find what you are drawn to, I will no longer be here. But if you don’t, I shall not have moved ’. Pyrrha gathers that it is as good of a reason as any. If what is drawing her forward is beyond the sea, and is unattainable, then she can just return to here. If not, then she can move forward with what she gets.

“I will,” she looks up at the tree with determination. The tree sways lightly in its breeze, and its leaves shake. It does not respond.

She walks slowly out of the halo the sorrowful willow creates. But as she reaches the cliffside, her determination comes back in droves. Shoulders back and posture square, she throws herself with precision over the edge into the jungle below. Muscle memory takes over, and within seconds, she is safely on the ground.

She snaps her head up sharply, looks around, then takes off in a dead sprint. Her heart pounds in her chest, both from the exercise, and also from the excitement of whatever is pulling her here. The pull is tighter and tighter the closer she gets to the beach until she breaks free of the tree line, and the pull snaps and disappears. Nothing.

Pyrrha looks back and forth on the beach, looking for anything of significance. But everything looks the same from here: giant shells, trees, sand and water. The pull is gone.

Her breath and her heart are mismatching beats, but they still are working hard from the run. Her shoulders drop as she feels all the hope in her heart slowly sink. She closes her eyes as she feels the tears threaten. She finds her mind is as blank as her chest feels, and is tempted to stay there for hours, if it wasn’t for the fact that the mourning tree is waiting for her still.

With feet like lead, she drags them back into the jungle, back to the cliff, and back to her tree friend, who says nothing upon her return, but simply comforts her as she snuggles into the crook of its branches.

As the suns hit their three-quarter mark in the sky, a young man stirs from his nap in a tree at the edge of the jungle. Looking up from the branch, he scans the sky, hoping and praying for some familiar streaks to paint the endless blue above. But once again, like he had guessed, nothing. With a sigh he looks down at the beach and… the sand has been disrupted.

With a sense of urgency and curiosity, he jumps down to investigate. The marks are unrecognizable. ‘ It almost looks as if something had been dragged …’ he realizes. His head snaps toward the tree he was sleeping in, and right where he left it, hidden behind some palms, is his friend's weapon. With a short huff, he looks back down at the strange tracks.

“What kind of thing would drag itself all the way from the water to the jungle?” He asks himself out loud, “Nevermind, I don’t think I want to know''. His imagination gets the better of him. Leaning back against his tree, he goes back to keeping an eye on the sky, and on the ocean. Wouldn’t want something else to pop out of it and take him off guard. Better to be cautious in this strange land.

Pyrrha woke up the next morning nestled in the Tree of Mourning's branches, with a headache, and a familiar tug in her chest. Her eyes were still puffy from crying the night before, and she sat up slowly, devoid of much energy.

‘ Not much has changed, hmm? ’ the tree asks softly. She shakes her head softly, her red hair bouncing around her lightly.

‘ Perhaps you missed something? ’ it offers. She shakes her head again.

“No. When I got to the beach, the pull just stopped,” she explains with a crackly morning voice, “there was nothing to see that was out of the ordinary. No one, and nothing”. There is a pause as the information sinks into them both.

‘ What do you plan to do now? ’ the tree asks, its branches swaying magically without wind. The woman in its branches curls in upon herself and lays back down.

“I don’t know,” her voice cracks sadly. ‘ It's not like me to give up like this, ’ she thinks to herself, ‘ but I’ve always had a path. I knew what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go. But now? ’. She shuts her eyes forcefully to stop the tears from reappearing once more.

‘ You are a warrior, ’ the tree states out of nowhere. The girl nods minimally.

‘ You like to help others. Do that ,’ it says slightly softer.

“I do,” she mumbles under her breath, before what the tree says fully hits her.

“You’re right. I do like to help others! It's who I am, a warrior! A hun-” her mouth fumbles as her thoughts are one step ahead, “everyone has a role here, right? I’ve been saying since my first full day cycle here, that I. Am. A warrior. So that is what I will do”.

Energy sparks like a fire in the redhead. Her original plan was muddled and torn down, but that doesn’t mean she would give up. As she grabs her weapons, she feels determination and another feeling well up inside her. A feeling as comfortable as muscle memory. A feeling that she is a step closer to herself than she has been.

In the light of the new day, the redheaded warrior stands with her back to the Tree of Mourning, and toward the great tree of the land. A vow of protection on the tip of her tongue, and adrenaline in her veins, the woman grabs her weapons tight. Though the pull in her chest guides her backwards, never again would the woman set foot on that beach. This would end up being both a blessing and a curse in its own right.

As the years started to fly by, Pyrrha settled into her role in the Ever After. Wherever she was, she was there to lend a hand in any way she could, to whoever she could. Half of the time, of course, she spent fighting the Jabberwalker. She knew that being eaten by it meant death, but the way it talked and ran away always made her feel like it had a soul. And thus, she never had it in her to kill it herself. Besides, her job was to protect and help, not kill.

The Tree of Mourning became her constant companion. Within just a few years of coming to the Ever After, Pyrrha’s questions and sadness settled like sand in a calm river. And thus, in order to stay with her, the tree shriveled and became one with the mother tree. It was reborn just hours later, calling itself ‘ the Warrior’s Tree ’.

“The Warrior’s tree… thank you for coming back,” Pyrrha said warmly, elated to see her old friend again, “do you remember me?”.

‘ I do, because I chose to. Now I will appear nearby whenever you need me, no matter how you feel inside, ’ the tree swayed slightly, its limbs creaking, ‘and if you build a house in my branches, you will never be far from home, no matter where you go’. Pyrrha couldn’t help but shed tears of happiness at the invitation.

“Tree, may I call you something other than Warrior’s tree? It's a little bit of a mouthful,” she laughed good-naturedly. The tree let out a sweet bell sound in response, a laugh of its own.

‘ The Warrior’s Tree is my purpose. What else do you mean? ’ it questioned, curiously. Pyrrha thought for a second.

“Well, you are my home… home,” a warm feeling came over her, “and I aim to bring help and hope to others… hope… a beacon of hope… Beacon!” she announced proudly. The tree is silent for a moment. She rushes to elaborate.

“You will still be The Warrior’s Tree, but those who see you will know that I am near. A beacon that means I’m around. Beacon for short. How does that sound?” she asked timidly. There is another pause, but much shorter this time.

‘ That sounds lovely, ’ and while the tree had no face or mouth, the way those words were said, anyone could hear the smile.

From that point on, her life found a constant rhythm. For years and years, she traveled and helped others, always returning home to Beacon each night. As she got older and bigger, she had to return to the cat lady seamstress and the dragon armorsmith multiple times.

And one year she accepted something she was dreading to even think about- her precious weapons were no longer the right size for her anymore. They needed adjustments, ones that those in the Alloy acre could not realistically do. She waited months for a weaponsmith, but none came. She knew it was time to make the hard choice.

So, one day, Pyrrha put Akouo and Milo away in a hidden spot in her home and began to fasten herself a new spear and shield. Not nearly as fancy or comforting as her original ones, the new set worked just fine.

These were the only big things to happen to Pyrrha Nikos in a twenty five year time span. She traveled, laughed with her fellow Afterens, helped them, and defended them.

That is, until the end of said twenty five years.

“Warrior, what is it sweetie?” Plum asked curiously over a cup of tea. She watched her friend with slight worry. The redhead had snapped to attention and was staring unblinking into the distance.

“Warrior?” Plum spoke up again and placed her hand on her friends. Pyrrha finally blinked. Her bright green eyes, undiluted by age, flickered to her, before returning to the distance.

“I just… felt something odd,” she finally explains, snapping out of her trance. Plum watches as she attempts to go back to normal but can’t resist glancing in the direction of the tree.

“Something odd?” Plum prompts. There is a pause before she elaborates.

“I must be imagining things but…” she makes eye contact with Plum, “do you remember how I have always felt pulled toward the south beach?”

“Yes, I remember. You said there was nothing there. Why bring that up now?” She tilts her small porcelain head quizzically.

“Because the pull… it's moving …”

Chapter Text

‘What do you mean it's moving? ’ Beacon had questioned that night after Pyrrha had returned.

“I’m not entirely sure but… whenever I get closer to the beach, the pull doesn’t get bigger, but it feels stronger, more secure. And yet while I was having lunch with Plum today, despite staying still, the pull was getting stronger, and moving west ever so slightly,” Pyrrha explained, lounging on the pillows in her home, nestled snugly in Beacon’s branches.

‘What do you think it means? ’ it asks.

“I don’t know,” the woman answers honestly, pouring herself a cup of tea. The two of them are silent for a while, contemplating many things.

‘Will you be going to search for it? ’

“If it's moving it must be attached to something,”

‘Exactly, ’

“I’ll go, but I want to see if it comes farther in this direction first. Better to meet it halfway than try tracking it down from the beginning,” she finishes the conversation naturally. She leans back and enjoys the smell of her tea and the sounds of the Plains acre. Not nearly as comforting as the Alloy acre, or any of the other acres with a forest, but pleasant, nonetheless.

Pyrrha takes a moment to focus on the pull in her chest, and to where it leads her. It doesn’t seem to be moving right now. ‘ If it’s moving in the morning, that means it is attached to something living that needs rest. If it isn’t, then perhaps I simply imagined it, and I should take a few days off to relax. If I am so tired that something so constant for me changes, then I need to take better care of myself, ’ she thinks, taking a sip of tea.

As she finishes her cup, the magic fire in the center of the room slowly starts to dim. The warrior rises and heads into the adjoining room, ready for a rest, and curious as to what the next day might bring.

The next morning, the redheaded warrior got up and did her morning routines as normal, doing her best to ignore anything that could be acquainted with the pull in her chest. It's only when she's directly outside her front door, sitting on Beacon’s front limb that she focuses on it, her eyes closed.

‘And? ’ Beacon asks, the first word uttered between the two that morning. She takes a deep breath.

“It moved again. It's farther in. I would estimate either the Red King’s acre, or the one east of it,” she states factually.

‘Will you follow- ’

“No,” she cuts off her friend, “I want to study it longer. I’ll continue south and west. If it keeps on that path, I can use the tree as a shortcut”.

‘Hmm ,’ Beacon’s bell-like voice tinkles in her head softly. Being with the warrior for so long has taught The Warrior’s Tree a lot about its friend. Like her different moods, when her body goes through its strange cycles, and when she muffles her emotions to think logically.

As Beacon watches its warrior do its daily training exercises, it ponders the strange Afteren. Despite her natural ability to understand and help others, her ability to do those exact things for herself is nonexistent. Her understanding of her place in the world can be shaky at times- something Afterens never do. That and she has directly ignored her pull for years. Many Afterens would stay where the pull led them to and figure it out from there. Instead, the warrior has ignored it, and nestled into her own purpose.

Then there was what the Blacksmith said to it while they were reincarnating. They had told her of their warrior, and about their mysterious pull. The Blacksmith’s words still ring out clearly in its mind:

“Perhaps she is not ready, or perhaps the stars aren’t aligned. That is something she has to do on their own,” she had said it with so much confidence and wisdom that it had made sense at the time.

But now that her pull was moving, perhaps the stars are aligning as it were? Beacon hoped that its warrior could find what she had seemingly lost, and wanted her to have it soon. But Beacon also knew that rushing her wouldn’t help. And so, it resolved to simply support its friend the way it always did.

As Pyrrha finished up the drill, she grabbed her pack full of supplies for the day and put a hand on Beacon’s familiar bark.

“I am going south. See you later, friend,” she whispers warmly. Beacon’s only response is a slight sway of their branches.

It was only a week’s time before the place that Pyrrha was being pulled to stopped moving. From the southeast corner of the Ever After, she deduced that whatever it was was somewhere west of the tree. As much as she was curious as to what the source of the pull was, she was also warry. Why would the pull have moved after being still after all this time? It just didn’t make sense. Besides, she had other things to worry about. She was on a run collecting material for a merchant in the Alloy acre to make something that would make carving for the Earth Exchangers easier.

Of course, that one job turned into another, and another, and another. Days passed, then weeks, until finally months. Seven months had passed since the pull initially stopped. Of course, six months ago it started moving again. Yet it always stayed in the same area- east of the tree. Sometimes a little south, sometimes a little north. But it always returned to the same place.

In Pyrrha’s mental timeline, it had been twenty five years of no movement, then a week of movement/relocation, followed by a month of stillness, then six months of movement. In the last month, however, word had traveled to her and Beacon’s ear of a new warrior in the Ever After. One who resided in the east. At first, she didn’t even consider the connection. She was elated to meet one with a purpose much like her own.

This was, of course, followed by a concern that she wasn’t doing her job well enough. That must have been the only reason that another sprouted from the tree, yes?

Then, naturally, it was Beacon who suggested that this new warrior, and the origin of the mysterious pull in her chest, were one and the same. The feeling of wanting to meet them was dashed in an instant. But the more she heard about this other warrior, the more her curiosity grew. Apparently, not only were they a warrior like her, but they also looked like her, and fought like her too. This was enough to override any cause for concern. Pyrrha was curious, and now she was on her way.

To the east of the tree, deep in the Origami acre, lived a village of Afterens called the Paper Pleasers. Now as of late, these Afterens had a guest who had been dubbed The Rusted Knight. Despite being a warrior, he often spent his time helping the Paper Pleasers with their mundane day to day life.

“Thank you for your help Rusted Knight!” the Paper Pleaser he affectionately named Nora yells, already waddling away from the man. The weary battle worn warrior sighs softly.

“My work is never done,” he hums to his companion, a giant jackalope, his trusty steed. The middle-aged man turns to look over his village, smiling softly. As his gaze drifts off into the distance, the smile fades.

“Juniper,” he says, addressing his steed, “whenever we get farther away from the village, the more we hear about this great warrior. If he was here before me, do you think he is the true Rusted Knight?”. Juniper lets out a few purrs and whistles in response.

“Hmm… well I’d be interested to meet him, but I wouldn’t want to if he’d be angry at me,” he admits while giving his friend some chin scratches.

“Oh no, I doubt they would be mad at you at all!” A voice pops up from behind the man. He turns to find a yellow Paper Pleaser, who he had named Sun.

“What do you mean?” he asks gently, lowering himself to their level. He had heard of the Warrior originally from that stupid cat in passing, but he quickly lost trust in anything it said. It wasn’t until the Paper Pleasers backed the existence of the Warrior up, that he started to believe he was real.

“The Warrior is super nice and understanding. She wouldn’t do anything to harm us, or anyone else. Except for the Jabberwalker,” Sun says brightly.

“Well, that makes me feel better I guess,” he stands up, assuming the conversation is over, before stopping suddenly, “wait… did you say she?”.

“Yup! The Warrior goes by she!” he chirps happily.

“What does she look like?” he asks much more intensely. He lowers himself back to the ground. His heart begins to pound, ‘ why didn’t I ask them what they looked like earlier? If it's one of team rwby…’

“She's really tall, and she has long red hair, looks kind of like you… but not. Oh! And you kind of have the same fighting styles!” Sun’s innocent tone and demeanor contrast the man across from him. He lets out a deep sigh. ‘ So, it's not any of team rwby ’ he accepts. The thought of red hair reminds him of the red ribbon in his hair for a moment, but the thought quickly fades.

“Thank you, Sun,” he says, standing up again.

“No problem!” The Paper Pleaser waddles off to do who knows what. The weary warrior looks to his companion.

“It's not them, Juniper... But it doesn’t mean I’m not curious,” the jackalope chitters in agreement, “and I wonder what they mean by ‘look like me’. I wonder how off he is”. He cracks a smile, and his companion headbutts him.

“Maybe one day we will meet. For now…” an explosion is heard in the distance, and he lets out a deep sigh, “let's take care of that”.

The markets of the Garden acre weren’t as grandiose as those of the Market acre itself, or even the Alloy acre, but they were ripe with ingredients, and that's what she needed. Herb had asked her to make a quick shopping trip for him, and because it was technically not that far off, she couldn’t refuse.

The ride across the lily pads was strange but alarmingly soothing. No matter how many times she had taken the journey, it still amazed her.

As she glided closer to the shore, more and more Afterens began to notice her. General excitement and acknowledgement are common when she returns to a settlement, but this time she is met with a crowd.

“Where have you been?”

“We’ve missed you, Warrior!”

“Did you know there is a new Warrior helping us?”

“Have you met him yet?” questions echo throughout the crowd. Pyrrha puts her hands up to quiet the chatter.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited in a long while. I heard about this other Warrior, and that he was doing his part in helping you all in the eastern acres. So, I’ve been taking the time to help some other friends, and now it has led me back to you,” she handles the crowd with expert patients and dedication. ‘ The skill just seemed to have come into me straight from the tree ’ she recognizes as she talks to the last Afteren that was clamoring for her attention.

The crowd now dispersing, the woman takes her leave to scout the various tables for her prey. She meanders around, making her way slowly up the tower. She’s observing a table on the third floor when she feels a soft tug at her clothes. Looking down she sees a tiny Leafapiller.

“Hello,” she greets warmly, “what is it you need little one?”. The Leafapiller chitters in its own language.

“Oh? You would like to help me?” she asks. The little one nods its head in confirmation.

“Thank you, sweetie. Do you perhaps know where the phoenix feathers are? Grounded or otherwise…” The Leafapiller nods its head, and grabs the woman’s hand, dragging her off. With a good-natured laugh, she allows them to lead her. It's a little uncomfortable, since she has to lean down quite a ways, but she doesn’t let it bother her. They lead her up one more level, and to the last vendor on the left.

The feathers aren’t ground, but she knows it wouldn’t bother Herb too much, just slightly inconvenience him. After a moment of bartering, she places the jar carefully in her pack. As she does, she notices a few leaves at the bottom. A reminder to herself to pick up something for Beacon. She kneels back down next to her guide.

“Little one, do you think you could be my guide one more time?” she asks with a gentle smile on her face. The Leafapiller nods enthusiastically.

“I would like something to decorate a tree with. Do you know if anyone is selling any chimes or streamers?” the little one immediately grabs her hand.

“Wait, I have a better idea,” Pyrrha doesn’t allow herself to be dragged off this time, and her guide tilts their head in confusion, “Come here”. She kneels down and opens her arms. The little Leafapiller shuffles forward cautiously, but with interest.

Tenderly she scoops up the tiny creature and sits them on her hip.

“There, now I will walk, and you can point me in the direction I should go,” she smiles down to the child in her arms. It bounces lightly out of excitement, and points back down the path in response. The woman chuckles, and the pair begin their journey back down.

Down they go, back to the second level, where the Leafapiller points out a table Pyrrha had glazed over the first time. Not because it was uninteresting, but because it was obviously not an ingredient seller. Instead, it was an art seller. The stall was covered with streamers and mobiles filled with miscellaneous objects found throughout the Ever After.

The bird lady behind the stall watches with kind eyes as the Warrior holds the tiny denizen with one arm and holds up wares with the other. Carefully she looks them over, debating if Beacon would have a preference, or what would look good in their branches. Eventually she settles on a multi-tiered suncatcher, and barters three opalescent carved gems from the Earth Exchangers for it.

She places the Leafapiller gently on the ground, and carefully puts the score away in her bag.

“Thank you, little one, for helping me out today,” she thanks them. They let out a chitter and a whirr in response.

“Here,” she pulls out a small carved sparkly red gem, “this is payment for your help”. The color of the stone matches the color of the Leafapiller’s leaf head. They take it carefully in their hands, and study it in awe. She pats its head lightly, stands up, gives it another smile, and walks away to the lily pad boats.

Her pad is just a few feet into its journey when she hears a loud click and chatter behind her. Turning, it’s her guide, waving and shouting goodbye in its odd language, the stone tucked away in its other hand. She waves back and watches her new little friend until he is just a dot at the market.

Herb was in a good mood when she finally returned and didn’t blink any of his eyes at the unground phoenix feather. She sipped at her tea from the cushions on the floor, as Herb chatted away amiably. She had always liked Herb, because unlike many other denizens of the Ever After, he too was a bit stiff and awkward upon the first meeting. But after opening up, he was quite talkative.

And since she hadn’t been to visit him in a while, he had much to tell her about. Of course, he started with the normal things, such as the potions he created and the strange things that happened in his garden. But when he starts to speak of strange visitors that walk much like her…

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Pyrrha asks, spine straight, and tea placed safely on the ground.

“They were the strangest visitors. Their body moved and looked like yours dear. The larger one, the one who goes by The Rusted Knight, I hear he has been sticking around the Origami acre for a while now, doing much of the same that you do,” he answers her, while grinding the feathers away in a mortar.

“I’ve heard of him. He’s the main reason I haven’t visited these few acres in a while,” she admits.

“Afraid of running into him?” his eyelids blink in succession.

“That was a part of it. But also, because if he is doing my job over here, why do I need to do it as well?”

“Sound logic,” he nods. Silence settles for a moment as Herb concentrates on pouring all the ground feathers into a container. When he is finished, Pyrrha speaks up again.

“What about the others he was with?” She brings the topic back.

“They were smaller, with atrocious purposes: Alex and Louis. Now what could those mean?” His two main eyes roll to the ceiling, and the third closes. Pyrrha giggles softly; ‘ Indeed. What in the world kind of purpose is that? ’.

“They seemed lost, so I tried to help them. But by the time they left, the clever one seemed almost spiteful, and the quiet one was very introspective. I hope I didn’t break them,” though he had turned away to hide the concern for them on his face, Pyrrha knew him well enough to know it was there.

“Probably not. Instead, you gave them much to think about. If they are indeed as similar to me as everyone says, then they probably just needed time to think things over. I can’t count how many nights I’ve laid away just thinking about things,” she admits, once again picking up her tea.

“Yes, you are a strange breed, you Warriors, or whatever else those two small things were,” he grunts with a wave of one of his many arms. Pyrrha finishes her tea and rises up off the floor.

“Thank you for the hospitality, Herb, but I think I should tuck in for the night,” she says as she hands over the empty teacup.

“Thank you for heading over to the market for me. Terrible place, awfully busy,” Pyrrha huffs in amusement at his dramatics, “do feel free to stay the night”.

“While your pillows here are comfortable, I think I will have to pass. I have a gift for Beacon that I want to give them, and I would much prefer my own bed. But I will be in the area if you need anything by tomorrow morning,” she tells him, picking up her spear and shield from the ground.

“Very well then. Goodbye Warrior,” he says nonchalantly, not even bothering to turn around.

“See you later, Herb,” she replies informally, herself not even turning to her friend as she walks out the door.

Pyrrha only has to walk a minute down the path to find Beacon. The thought of the gift in her bag makes her smile a tad brighter for her friend.

‘Welcome home’ Beacon chimes in her head, ‘what has you in a good mood? ’

“I’ve brought you something for your branches,” Pyrrha admits, reaching into her bag already.

‘Another? ’ it asks curiously. Indeed, it was not the first that she had brought home. In fact, Beacon was tastefully decorated in an array of streamers, ribbons, and small pieces of art of all kinds. It wasn’t too much to stop it from swaying or shivering as it did, but it was just enough to bring wonder into the eyes of their visitors.

“It's a sun catcher,” she says, holding it out into the last remaining sunrays of the day, “where do you think I should hang it?”.

‘Hmm. How about on the branch right next to your bedroom window. That way the pretty colors it gives off can shine into your room. Then we can both enjoy it ,’ Beacon states cleverly.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Pyrrha agrees. In no time at all, she has climbed up and found her way to the branch outside her bedroom window and hangs the colorful glass piece up. Completing her mission, she climbs her way back to the miniscule porch outside her front door, and sits down on the edge, legs dangling over the side.

The two sit in silence as she watches the suns sink into the horizon.

“I’ll probably find him tomorrow,” she says suddenly after a while, no context given.

‘Yes, you most likely will ’ Beacon responds, no context needed.

Chapter Text

‘Or perhaps not,’ Pyrrha realizes, stuck collecting sticks and leaves for the Sporeals, or the creatures better known as the two-legged mushrooms. As she had passed their village they had asked for her help. And of course, Pyrrha being Pyrrha, she couldn’t say no. And thus, she was wandering around the forest, helping them collect more building supplies then they would be able to collect on their own in months. The source of the pull wasn’t moving much anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem.

Well, it didn’t move until she was on her way back to the village, a mountain of sticks and twigs under one arm, and a bag of leaves in the other. The suddenness of it causes her to pause momentarily, before realizing that ‘ it's headed this way ’. Her steps began to quicken. In five minutes she's back at the Sporeal’s village. Careful not to place the supplies on any of the three inch mushrooms, she excuses herself politely, and heads off in the direction of the pull.

She walks at first, but as the pull strengthens, she picks up her speed. ‘ He must be in the acre now. I bet I could intercept him at the market ,’ she reasons to herself. But then suddenly the pull begins to take her east, not west.

“He must have used this acre as a bridge to get to the other. If I bypass the paths I can cut him off before then. How is he moving so fast?” she mutters to herself. Changing direction, she cuts right through the forest, expertly maneuvering through the thicket of trees and giant mushrooms at a jogging speed.

She’s almost there, the pull in her chest is like a taut rope, ready to snap. The source of the pull suddenly stops moving. With interest, she slows down, but continues ahead.

Just before she reaches the bridge, she realizes that the pull is coming from her left. Instead of waiting for it to come to her, she heads toward it directly.

Just like the time she tracked the source of the pull down, all those years ago, her heart’s racing, and the feeling in her chest expands until…

She breaks the tree line into a tiny clearing with a small pond. The pull snaps and is gone. It feels strange to Pyrrha. For her whole life, it's been sitting there. She had been so used to it, and now suddenly it's gone.

But there were more important things to dwell on. Like the giant jackalope and the other figure, ‘ they weren’t kidding, we do have the same stature ’, who must be the knight. The two of them stand facing the water, the jackalope drinking slowly, not a care in the world.

She watches with interest, not sure how to intrude or introduce herself.

“If you were really that thirsty, you probably should have drank before we left,” the man says with a lighthearted sigh, patting his friend on the back. The jackalope picks up its head, and lets out a soft whirr, before its ears go up in alert suddenly, and it turns its head around.

The man, startled by his friend's quick actions, pivots quickly, a hand flying to his sword, but not yet removing it from its sheath.

All at once, the three are watching each other curiously, eyes darting around. No one moves.

“Who… are you? Wait- you… you are the real rusted knight, aren’t you?” the man asks, taking off his helmet. He looks tired and disheveled, both physically and mentally. Both of them simultaneously note that between the two, the man is clearly the more ‘rusted’ of the two. He curses himself internally.

“No,” the woman responds simply, “that title belongs to you, and you alone”. She strides forward slowly, and stops to his left, opposite of the jackalope. She kneels down, removes her own helmet, and takes a drink from the pond.

The man watches and begins to blink rapidly upon noticing her vividly bright red hair. He knew from before that she had red hair, but upon seeing it in person it reminds him of…

“Pyrrha,” he breaths.

“Hmm?” the woman questions, not quite hearing what he said. She dries off her hands on her skirt, and stands up.

“Oh, sorry you just reminded me of an… old… friend,” he staggers his final words as they stand just feet away from each other. The woman’s hair, her eyes, her face structure and way she holds herself is all strikingly her that he can’t believe his eyes.

“Wait, really? Pyrrha?” he takes a step toward her, disbelief written all over his weary face. She simply tilts her head slightly.

“What is a Pyrrha?” she asks seriously.

“Not a thing, or a purpose, but a name,” he responds, his tone shifting sadly, “of course you aren’t her”. Silence covers them for a second, and the jackalope decides to take this moment to introduce herself. Stepping forward toward the woman, she sticks out her nose in a curious manner.

The woman visibly softens, and reaches out her hands as an offering to sniff. Once she decides that the woman is worthy, she plants her chin down on the hands, expectant of pets- which Pyrrha readily gives.

“Hello sweetie, what are you?” the redhead asks. The Jackalope chitters in response.

“A steed? How lovely. You must be good friends with your rider, hm?” the jackalope doesn’t respond, it's too absorbed in the incredibly wonderful scratches the woman is giving her.

“Her name is Juniper,” the man finally speaks up. He stands in complete awe of the view before him. Not only does this woman look and act like an older version of Pyrrha, but she sounds like her too. And to top it off, his normally mildly cordial companion seems to be overly friendly toward this new woman.

“Juniper? Well it definitely fits you better than Steed. Much prettier” the woman says, bonking heads with Juniper.

“What may I call you then?” She asks, picking up her head and looking at the man, “If Rusted Knight is your purpose, then what do you… er…”. She pauses, not knowing how to finish her question.

“My name is Jaune,” he holds out his hand in greeting. Although the woman had never greeted anyone this way before, she seemed to understand what he wanted.

“Hello, Jaune,” she says warmly, taking his hand and shaking it gently. He closes his eyes, and a wave of sadness passes over his face.

“Say that again, please?” he asks softly.

“Hello again, Jaune,” she complies. Tears start to stream down his face, and he grasps her hand just a tad bit tighter.

“There is no way that you are not Pyrrha Nikos,”

“You’ve really been here your whole life?” Jaune asks. His new acquaintance nods her head.

“Yes. I came from the tree just like all other Afteren. However, I came from a root in the Plains acre. I even had the normal purpose pause that many experience. Did you?” she looks over as she asks. They walk just feet away from each other on the beaten path toward the Origami acre. Juniper just a few steps behind them.

“No, I didn’t come from the tree. Do you… remember coming from the tree?” The questions have been ping ponging back and forth between them for a while now.

“Yes. Of course the memory has faded with the years, but I distinctly remember trying to stand the second after I broke out of the root, and the color of the sunset,” she chuckles softly to herself, “but, excuse me for asking, but where did you come from, if not the tree?”. Jaune lets out a soft sigh.

“It's a land called Remnant. Magic is sparse there, but my friends and I accidentally fell through a magical dimension created by a magic portal, and the next thing I knew, I was falling through the sky and landed here,” the look on his face is melancholy.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you upset. Please if I ask something upsetting you don’t have to tell me,” she pleads. Jaune surprisingly cracks a smile.

“Didn’t ever think I’d get to hear you apologize again,” he turns his head slightly to look at her. Her own eyes widen slightly in curiosity, but a soft smile of her own breaks upon her face.

“Do I come from your world then? From Remnant? If so, how did I get to the tree?” her questions hold not a single trace of sarcasm or animosity. The man shakes his head.

“I don’t know how you got here, if you are really her, but… the resemblance is uncanny,” he chuckled. A light sound coming from one who seemed to be in the darkest years of his life.

“Was I one of your friends that fell with you? Perhaps I just reincarnated-”

“No you weren’t” he cuts her off, “you- I mean she… died. She died in our world almost a year and a half before my friends and I fell”.

“Oh,” a hush falls over the two for a minute, “that's why you were so alarmed upon seeing me. If I looked like one of your friends who’d passed…”. Jaune simply nods, and once again, the silence stretches. They continue to walk side by side, with Juniper trailing close behind for a few more minutes.

“Are those from Remnant… I mean… do they look like us?” Pyrrha asks, finally breaking the quiet. Her companion starts to smile again.

“Like humans? Yeah, many more. In fact all of the different kinds of creatures that you see here? They don’t exist there. Just humans, and our close variants, the fannus,” he explains. Pyrrha’s eyes light up.

“What do they look like?” she asks in wonder. With a tired but charming smile, Jaune begins to elaborate on fannus appearances and their history with humans. Pyrrha listens politely to every word, fascinated by this other world that both seems logical and illogical at the same time.

Despite only knowing this man for a few hours now, Pyrrha finds herself calmed by his presence. Someone who talks and acts just like her. She understands his complex facial and body expressions. And for some reason the idea of calling those you know by something other than a purpose feels right. She curses herself for waiting seven months to find him. All that time worrying about frivolous things seems childish now.

Of all the things this world has thrown at him, he never thought he would run into an exact replica of his dead teammate. All those years of loneliness on the beach. If only he had left and explored on his own years ago. Maybe they would have found each other, and spent their days running around the Ever After together. ‘ Is it morally acceptable to wish for that with a woman who is basically a duplicate of the girl you liked who died? ’ he questions. He erases the thought from his mind like an etch-a-sketch. But as they continue to talk, Jaune finds himself wishing more and more that the woman next to him really is Pyrrha. And that if only he could recount as much of their past as possible, maybe, just maybe, she’d start to remember.

“Does any of this sound familiar?” Jaune asks. Both of them sit on opposite sides of a campfire, the suns washing the world in color. The woman across from him shakes her head.

“No, but it does sound fascinating. I don’t think the Ever After has had anything that interesting happen,” she tells him.

They had continued to talk all the way back to the Paper Pleasers home. Jaune recounts things from his homeland and Pyrrha makes comments and learns it all accordingly. They had talked through dinner, and in a spur of trying something different, he decided to try talking more about Remnant's history that they learned in class together. Obviously, that wasn’t doing it either.

Jaune drops his head in disappointment. Pyrrha feels her shoulders stoop slightly at the sight. She knows he's trying so hard, but not getting the outcome he wants. If they weren’t sitting directly across from each other, she might reach out to comfort him.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says softly. He lifts his head a bit to look at her.

“Yeah?” his tone reflects hers.

“You’re hoping that I am the woman you lost long ago,” her eyes shift over to the fire, “I don’t know if I am her… but I love listening to you talk about your world”. She looks back over to him, and there is a new spark of light in his eyes.

“So I don’t mind you trying. As long as you don’t mind telling a stranger about these things, if that's all I turn out to be,” she finishes her thought. He smiles softly at the woman, who in his mind couldn’t possibly not be Pyrrha. If only there was proof .

“If I tell you all about my world, then you wouldn’t be a stranger anymore,” he says, and their eyes lock onto each other. The smile on her face is so warm and radiant, it takes him aback slightly. For a second, he feels like he’s 15 again, having a crush on a classmate for the first time. The feeling doesn’t last long. His eyes finally break away, and his smile falters a little.

“I wouldn’t know what to talk about next. What would jog your memory?” his voice trails off at the end of the sentence. Pyrrha thinks for a moment.

“You mentioned you all have families. Perhaps start there. What was her family like?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

“I don’t know anything about her family. I met her mother once, briefly, but…” he trails off again. He looks off into the fire, lost in thought. Pyrrha herself puts on a thinking face. A minute passes, before his face lights back up again.

“We were her family too!” he says excitedly. Her own face lights up slightly, and looks on expectantly.

“Remember how I was telling you about huntsmen and huntresses? How we chose to be it, not that it was a purpose given to us?” he asks, his voice filled with determination. She nods enthusiastically.

“You- I mean Pyrrha and I went to school for it. I mean… a school is a place a lot of people around the same age go to, in order to learn a lot of things,” he explains. He waits as she processes the information. As soon as she looks back at him and nods, he continues.

“In school we were put on a team of four. Pyrrha, Ren, Nora and I. We were team JNPR!” he almost seems to be bursting at the seams. Upon hearing her name, Juniper’s head rises up from where she was laying down, just a few feet away.

“Juniper?” Pyrrha asks, looking between the man and his companion. He lets out an awkward laugh, and scratches his head absentmindedly.

“Yeah… I was really missing my team, then suddenly she showed up and saved my life… just like they did,” his gaze is soft toward his friend. She looks curiously back, but with all the trust and love she herself can muster.

“So the four of you were your own kind of family?” the redhead asks, bring the conversation back. He nods.

He begins to weave a story; a story about how the four of them met, their first few weeks of class, and a few of the fun adventures they had.

Pyrrha can’t quite see the image the man in front of her is painting, but she is invested nonetheless. The way he moves and reacts to telling different parts of the story makes her smile.

There is just something about recounting all of the adventures they had those few months they had together to a woman who very well could be Pyrrha, that makes him feel bittersweet. Sweet, because it makes him relive all the happy memories the four of them shared. Bitter, because she's gone. The woman across from him now could be Pyrrha, or she could just be a cruel trick of fate. A look alike created to push him further into madness.

“Jaune, they sound wonderful. I’m glad you had such lovely people to support you,” his firelit companion speaks up in one of his many pauses. It causes him to shake the negativity out of his head for the moment.

“I miss them,” he mutters, looking defeated yet again.

“I can tell. It’s written all over your face,” she says. Taking Jaune by surprise, she gets up, and adds some more fuel to the fire. In all that talking, he hadn’t even noticed how dark it got. When she sits back down, she sits more to the right of him than directly across.

“Describe what they look like to me?” she asks, sitting with her knees up to her chin. It's a more childlike pose for someone who looks to be middle aged.

“What they looked like back then, or what they looked like before I came here?” he asks, slightly distracted by how she sits. More in appreciation than anything else.

“Either,” is her answer. She closes her eyes, the dancing of the fire the only thing she can see through her eyelids.

He begins with Nora first, then Ren. Finally with a shaky breath, he begins to describe Pyrrha. The woman next to him remained still, her eyes still closed. When he got to describing her weapon, the woman’s eyes shot open. She sat unblinking through his description, staring deep into the fire.

“-so that's part of the reason I think that you have to be her. You both look so alike, despite the fact that you’re much older. And that you both have basically the same weapons,” he finishes. Before anything else can be said, she rises.

“Beacon,” she says flatly. Hope overtakes the man's heart.

“What… did you just say?” he asks, praying to the brothers that she really just said what he thought she said. She doesn’t respond initially. Instead, there is an ever so slight shift to the air, and she turns. He makes a stand to follow her but stops dead in his tracks.

About thirty feet away from their campfire, where there wasn’t before, is a tree. A big, beautiful willow with a house built in a clear break of the branches.

Pyrrha smirks softly at the sight of her dear friend, and thanks it silently for having the small magic lanterns in its branches lit.

“Wha-” is all Jaune can get out at the sight. The woman walks forward, and parts the branches, before turning back with a soft mischievous smile.

“The Paper Pleasers are your home. This is mine… Jaune, meet Beacon,” she introduces as the man stands and starts walking his way toward them. He stops suddenly next to her as she says its name.

“Beacon?” he whispers, astonished.

‘Hello, fellow Warrior. It is a pleasure to meet you,’ a voice like tinkling bells appears in his head, and he jolts a bit. The tree seems to almost laugh at his reaction.

‘Warrior had much the same reaction when I first spoke to her too,’ it says. Jaune stands there, unsure of how to respond. Instead, he watches the woman step forward toward the trunk of the tree.

“Beacon, this is the other Warrior. He goes by Rusted Knight by the other Afterens, but he also goes by Jaune. Just like how you go by Beacon,” Pyrrha introduces.

“So, Beacon is a name? Did you give it to them?” he asks, feeling like he is about to make a breakthrough with the truth. That any minute now she’s going to reveal that she actually is Pyrrha.

‘She did. My purpose is The Warrior’s Tree. I am her tree, and her home. I appear whenever and wherever she needs me, ’ the tree answers. He locks eyes on the woman, her hand already grasping the first run of the ladder up to the treehouse.

“You know… Beacon was the name of the school we attended together,” he says flatly. They continue to stare at each other, the information slowly sinking in. The tree’s branches blow slightly despite the lack of wind. The tiny lanterns flicker.

Suddenly Pyrrha breaks eye contact and turns, climbing up the ladder into the tree. Jaune makes the move to follow, but she sticks out a hand at the last moment, ordering him to stay put. He does, despite his desperation to not let her out of his sight, less she disappears, taking the truth with her.

There is about a minute as noises of things being moved around drift down. The movement stops, and before he can realize she's there, the woman throws herself out of the tree through the front door. She lands expertly, and when she rises and holds out what she went after, Jaune stops breathing.

Akouo and Milo, just as he remembered them, held firmly in her hands. She watches as his eyes get big, and he just… stops moving at the sight of her weapons. His eyes glaze over as he looks them over thoroughly, all without touching them.

“Here,” she whispers, making a move to hand them to him. At first he outright rejects the idea, then after a moment of hesitation, takes them gingerly from her. One at a time, he looks over each carefully, testing every indent and groove to see if it's the same.

Time seems to still, the air around them frozen for the moment. The man looking over the weapons, and the woman watching him with a racing heartbeat. ‘ Is this hers? Am I her? Am I from his world? ’ the thoughts echoing in her head. The prospect is exhilarating.

He flicks the spear into gun mode, and aims it off into the night, before flicking it back expertly.

“It's been so long since I’ve done that,” he says in such a soft voice that she barely catches it.

“Where did you get these?” he asks much louder this time, still not looking up.

“They were with me when I came from the tree. They’ve always seemed to be a part of me. I’ve never found any way to adjust them, so I put them away. It seemed wrong to mess with them too much the way they are now, and turn them into something different, so I just put them away and have been using weapons of my own making so that-” she stops her explanation short as he lowers her weapons downs slightly, before dropping them few inches left to the ground. In a single stride forward, he has his arms wrapped around her in a hug.

“I don’t know why, or how you are here. But you are here, and you are her. You’re Pyrrha- our Pyrrha… my Pyrrha,” he says over her shoulder, holding her just a tad bit tighter than before.

She returns the hug, mostly because something about it warms her unlike anything she’s felt in years, and also because she’s not as alone as she used to be. The idea of someone like her, who knows her, understands her, who she used to be, makes her heart fill with an emotion she can’t name. And while there is a chance that she isn’t who he claims she is- she doesn’t have the memories of it after all- the proof that is present is enough for them now.

The fact that she is the spitting image of the friend that lost her life at a battle at their school; a battle that should never have happened. That her mannerisms and voice sound the same as well, and that she was born from the tree with the same weapon, a kind of weapon that is stated to be as unique as its user and tied to their very soul. That speaks volumes.

The uncertainties could wait, for now the two partners were apparently reunited. It was the time for joy.

Chapter Text

When the Paper Pleasers awoke the next morning, they were surprised to find a giant tree at the edge of their village. Not a paper tree like they were used to either, but a real tree. Leaning against the truck, still sleeping, was their friend and protector, and the Warrior.

And like it was their duty to do, they started to explore and clean the area. Not at all because they were unbearably curious. Not. At. All.

Between the sun breaking through the branches, and the sounds of the Paper Pleasers meandering about, it wasn’t too long before Jaune woke up. He was stiff from sleeping upright against the tree all night, but the warmth at his side prevented him from moving. She was up against his right side, back flush against the bark much like he was, but with her legs bent slightly to the side away from him.

They had talked late into the night. He had continued to try and pry her memories loose, but with every story he told, “her” became “you”. And she had listened to his every word. If he read her body language correctly, she had even looked like she wanted to be his Pyrrha; She wanted to remember. That meant so much more to the man than he could ever describe.

There was still a little voice in his head that whispered, ‘It's all a trap’, but it was so hard to listen to it when her body heat was sinking into his skin. At this moment, he didn’t care if she was an illusion or a trap. He felt too good to let dark thoughts ruin this. And if it was just a trap, a setup, whoever was behind it would pay dearly for it.

All the thoughts in his head vanished in a second the moment he caught his companions breathing change. Her deep slow breaths became lighter. He waited patiently for her to wake up. As he did, a thought crossed his mind. One that sparked his brain, and reminded him of Beacon once again, even more so than the memories he recounted last night.

He tried to erase it, but he was so hyper aware of her hand resting limply on her thigh that he couldn’t. He didn’t have to move his hand far to grab it. Just shift slightly, and let their fingers entwine. It wouldn't be that hard.

The fight going on in his mind of whether to do it or not was so nerve wrecking that any last tendrils of sleep in the man were gone. He sat there battling himself for the few minutes it took for her to wake up.

With a deep breath and a few twitches, then a slight stretch of the legs, the woman's green eyes finally opened. She gazed out, watching the few Paper Pleasers, still enamored with the tree, run through its branches, before turning to her companion.

“Good morning, Jaune,” she says softly. The man had also been watching the animated paper stars run through the branches, if only to hide his thoughts from the rest of the world. But at the sound of her voice, he finally is able to leave his battlefield of a mind.

“Morning,” he replies, a bit more chipper and awake than her. They smile at each other for a few seconds, happy to have found… whatever it was they had found. Whether it was a friend, a partner, a teammate, or family, it didn’t matter. They were just happy; and that was enough.

Definitely enough for Jaune to pry himself away and get up with a stretch. ‘ Brothers my body feels old ’ he thinks to himself as his body lets out a few cracks. Pyrrha stretches slightly on the ground before getting up herself. As he watches her, he is hit with a very sudden realization that ‘ I really am old ’.

She looks up at him with a soft smile, and he takes note of the soft wrinkles that warm her face. He smiles back, a tad bit forcefully.

“So, how about some breakfast?” he asks.

“That sounds lovely,” is her response. As he leads the way toward his house, he can’t stop thinking about the age they both wear. He knows that he himself shows slight wrinkles on his face, but the gray in his hair is much more predominant. With a quick glance at his partner, he confirms that she too has gray threaded throughout her hair, but just a lot less. It makes her hair shine in an almost metallic way. ‘ She aged much more gracefully than I did ’ he admits with an internal chuckle. The funniness of the thought dies away quickly.

They aged. Both of them did. They lost so much of their life here in the Ever After. How much would be left when they return to Remnant? Though he had found her again, the feeling of loss overtakes him. If only he had left the beach sooner, then they could have lived all those years together at least.

“What's wrong?” Pyrrha asks. She had noticed the moment his energy seemed to switch. He doesn’t respond from his seat in front of the fireplace. She kneels down next to him and puts a hand on his and watches his face with concern. His mouth tugs into a soft smile as he threads their fingers together, just like he had wanted to do earlier.

“Just lost in thought I guess,” is his simple answer.

“Hmmm,” she turns to look toward the fire, “It’s nice to know I’m not alone in that practice”. He watches her daze off into the flames and squeezes her hand. ‘ Guess I’ll just have to make up for all those years lost and be thankful for all those ahead ’.

“You ready, Pyrrha?” Jaune’s voice filters up from the ground and into her treehouse.

“Almost,” She responds, finishing adding the last few necessities for the day into her belt pouch. With a small, satisfied nod, the woman turns and jumps gracefully out her front door. She lands right next to her waiting companion. The man doesn’t even flinch.

“Come on, if we are lucky, we can catch him before he sells it at the market,” he explains, waving her along as he strides toward Juniper.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we will get it back. We will just explain the situation, and then he will point us in the right direction,” her attempt at comforting him doesn’t land. Jaune hops on Juniper and lifts an eyebrow.

“Is Jinxy normally so cordial with you,” he questions, holding out his hand. She takes it and mounts behind him.

“Is he not so with everyone else?” she asks back.

“Not that I know of,” he grunts, nudging Juniper into action. The jackalope takes off at a steady trot until fully out of the village, then the trot turns into a full out run.

It had been just a little over two weeks since the two had run into each other. The first few days they had been absolutely inseparable. They talked from sunrise way past sunset. But as much as Pyrrha wanted to be the woman Jaune was always describing, she also knew she was a part of this world now, and thus left to fulfill her purpose. Yet she couldn’t stay away forever, and was back in just three days, much to Jaune’s relief. She stuck around for another day, before leaving for another few days, and then coming back and staying another few. She was just about to leave again when Jaune realized his helmet had gone missing. He had left it outside, at the edge of the village, before it just vanished. Everyone in the Ever After knew that when something vanished, it was because of a certain raccoon peddler.

“Has Jinxy been here recently?” Jaune asks a group of Afterens waiting to ride the lily pads as Juniper skids to a stop. Some of them shake their head slowly, but one perks up.

“He was at the market yesterday but didn’t sell anything! He said he was headed toward the Red acre,” a lizard standing on its two back legs steps forward. They couldn’t be more than a foot tall. Jaune only nods.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha voices for him, before Juniper takes off once again. If they would have seen themselves as the Afterens did, they would have been just as speechless. The Ever After’s valiant protectors, riding together, posture straight, and very in sync. They were a comforting sight to them, but also a sense of pure awe. They were downright majestic.

But the two’s minds were far from ever pondering those things. Instead, they were charging through the Garden acre, hoping to make it to the market of the Red acre on time.

And as luck would have it, they made it there as the crowd was just starting to form in front of the purple wagon. Juniper let out a chitter, and Jaune visibly relaxed at the sight.

The small crowd's attention quickly turned from the wagon to the warriors. Jaune was slightly uncomfortable with all the attention, but Pyrrha handled them with skill that can only be granted from a lifetime of practice. He watches her closely with admiration and wonder, a trace of a smile on his face.

A soft explosion and streamers flying everywhere redirect the crowd's attention back to the wagon as Jinxy takes the stage.

“A crowd favorite no matter what world you live in, huh?” Jaune takes a step toward her and whispers. Shyly she drops her eyes and ducks her head slightly.

“I always thought that it was a skill I got from the tree,” she whispers back.

“No, you got that from years of tournament fighting,” he states confidently. Her eyes start to sparkle.

“Tell me about that next- '' she stops suddenly as she glances over to Jinxy’s wagon, “there… your helmet”. She gestures toward the third of four objects displayed. He squints and makes a face.

“That… doesn’t even look like my helmet. I know he changes the appearance of things but it's not even remotely close,” he looks between his friend and the object in question. Indeed, the third object looks to be a silver wax seal. Nothing at all like the man's missing helmet.

“It’s that. trust me?” she asks, looking up at him. He pauses, and frowns in skepticism.

“I don’t think that’s it, but I don’t see it being any of the other objects, so… go ahead,” he sighs in acceptance. She smiles softly, then turns back to the spritely raccoon.

The first object is quickly sold, and there is some bartering for the second. Jinxy hasn’t even finished introducing the third when Pyrrha’s arm flys up. He points to her.

“The price is… a token of affection,” he announces. Jaune blinks in confusion and shock, but Pyrrha just thinks briefly before making her way up to the stage.

“Deal,” she states, and plants a soft kiss on the raccoon's forehead.

“Sold!” Jinxy yells, his tone slightly happier than normal, a soft blush on his furry cheeks. He hands over the wax seal, and she walks back toward Jaune triumphantly.

“Now what?” he asks, eyeing the seal in her hand skeptically.

“We leave town. Once we get outside his magic range, it should turn back,” she answers, walking past him toward Juniper.

“And if it isn’t my helmet?” he prompts as she hops onto Juniper's back.

“It's it, trust me,” she repeats. He lets out another sigh and joins her. The three of them make their way outside of town, and don’t stop until they reach a small river, halfway between the town and the acre’s east bridge. They both dismount as Juniper takes a drink.

“So?” Jaune waits expectantly. She hands the wax seal over. He lets out another sigh and puts out a hand to take it from her. The very moment his hand touches the object, it shifts abruptly into his missing helmet.

“You were right,” he admits, his eyes falling to the forest floor. Pyrrha steps forward, her feet coming better into his view.

“Jaune,” she starts softly, “All I ask is that you trust me”. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and he finally looks back up at her. Her green eyes shimmer like they did so long ago. ‘ She’s Pyrrha, my teammate and partner. She taught me to fight and to believe in myself. I have to trust her. How can I not? ’ The thought crosses his mind, as the smile on his face grows slowly.

“Yeah. I promise to trust you from here on out,” he assures her. Her tight posture loosens up a bit.

“Thank you, Jaune,” the smile on her face is warm.

“I should, uh, probably pay you back for this,” he looks back down to the helmet that he passes back and forth between his hands.

“No, you don’t have to-” her voice dies in her throat as he steps forward and places a hand on one cheek, before landing a gentle kiss on the other. Stepping back, he slides his helmet on his head, and hops onto Juniper's back.

“If we get going now, we will be back in time for dinner,” he says, looking cool and collected.

Pyrrha on the other hand stands dumbfounded. An unknown feeling tickles her stomach, and the warmth of the kiss sits on her face. It takes all the strength within her to break out of the trance and follow him. She takes his lead and puts her helmet back on as well. It's only then in the safety of the face shield that she allows the blush to fully rise. Her mind is an unfamiliar jumble of confusion and thrill.

‘Never knew what patience was till its face stared me down,’ Jaune thinks as he and Pyrrha stare thoughtfully at each other. He had just finished one of his latest recounts of home. It's been about a month since they encountered one another, and she still doesn’t remember anything. His patients threaten to wear thin, but there is just something about her own dedication and hope that continually smothers the rising anger.

“Fascinating. Dust sounds like magic, but it isn’t,” she hums. She's sitting against Beacon’s trunk, doing upkeep on her weapon. Jaune on the other hand was pacing slowly back and forth, but is now still, eyes glued to her hands at work.

“I wish I had a better way of explaining it. Weiss would be much better at that,” he sighs. She shakes her head.

“No, I think you did a very good job,” there is a short pause before she speaks again, “this Weiss… she's from team RWBY right?”

“Yes, that's correct,” he nods. He’s a little surprised that she’s picked up and remembered so much of what he's been telling her.

“And team RWBY fell before you did. But you went back in time from picking a Salal Watch berry, so now you have to wait for them,” another pause, “but Salal Watch trees rarely sprout. Why would the Ever After want to send you back in time?” She stops working, and looks up at the man, the questions in her mind evident on her face. The slightly pensive look on her mature face looks… lovely on her, Jaune realizes.

“Maybe so that we could find each other,” is his simple answer. His face is soft as he watches his partner. She shakes her head slightly and rises off the ground.

“If I am Pyrrha-”

“You are,” he interrupts her with complete conviction. She continues without hesitation:

“-then the tree could have dropped me off at any time. If the Ever After didn’t send you back in time, then there wouldn’t have been a need for me to come through the tree when I did. It just doesn’t make sense to me,” she takes a few jabs with her spear into the open air. Both to test the weapon, and to emphasize the point she made.

“I know why,” he lets out a deep sigh, covering his face with his hand. She stops and looks toward him.

“I needed to be here to see Alyx and Lewis, to guide them through their story here in the Ever After,” he explains. There is a pause.

“Their story?” her voice is riddled with hesitation, questions littering her head suddenly. Jaune drops his hand slowly and cracks a tired smile.

“I’ve yet to tell you about Remnants fairy tales, haven’t I?”

“What's a fairy? And why are their tails so important?” She tilts her head slightly. At her innocent question, a hearty laugh leaves him.

“I don’t know why they are called fairy tales, but they are stories passed down through the ages. Usually fake, but with an important lesson. However, it turns out many of the fairy tales passed down on Remnant are actually true. Not all, but many. I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that I’m a character in one of them…” he trails off, his eyes downcast and hazy, as if not actually looking at anything.

Pyrrha steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. It's enough to snap him out of it, and he puts a thankful hand on hers.

“Would you tell me some of them?”

“Yes… but not now. I’m thinking over the fire later, like a traditional bedtime story,” he promises with a warm smile. She returns it in kind with a nod of agreement. After a moment, Jaune’s face shifts. ‘ Why didn’t I think of this before? ’ he thinks, inwardly cursing himself for something so seemingly obvious.

“What is it?” she asks, watching a cunning smile bloom from a bud of disbelief.

“I think I know of a way that just might jog your memory,” she perks up in anticipation, “would you like to spar?” There is a sense of youthful excitement in him at the prospect. It's so different from his past approach, and they have so many memories of practicing and sparring together, that it just might do it.

“Sparring… while I’m not sure how it would help, it couldn’t hurt,” she nods. Without another word, Jaune scoops up his own weapons, and leads the way to a clearing just a short distance from the paper town.

They both get ready to fight, and despite most of his sword being gone, Jaune holds it in a way that screams he knows how to use it exactly the way it is.

Pyrrha faces him, sliding into position much more hesitantly. She's faced off the Jabberwalker for years, but that has been her only opponent for as long as she can remember. In Jaune’s stories he's told her that she used to fight other people, competitively, all the time. That she was the best. But she doesn’t remember. And there is still a part of her whispering that the person he longs for her to be, isn’t her.

He swings first, and she blocks effortlessly with her spear. Still in the same movement, she pushes her shield forward, throwing his own blocking stance off. In the brief pause in between attacks, her muscles sing. The song is an old one. She lets her body take over what it wants to do. She’s alert, and quickly begins to spot his telltale movements and what they mean. Whether she is learning or remembering she doesn’t know. But as they continue to fight, her body begins to feel lighter than she recalls it ever being. She can’t help but smile.

There is a fire burning in Jaune’s chest. Not of anger or desperation, but of elation. The way she’s fighting him has sent him back to all those days on the dorm roof. In a split second he decides to test her. With an intentionally sloppily placed swing, he sees her retaliation before it happens. But instead of getting sent to the ground like all those other times, this time he is prepared. He blocks her swing and jumps away from her incoming leg sweep. The fire in his mind makes it to his chest. He fights back a tad bit harder, and soon notices that she's smiling. She’s enjoying sparring with him.

They both take a moment to mentally regroup, and he finds he can’t stop smiling either. Both of them are out of breath, but grinning from ear to ear, nonetheless.

This time when they clash weapons, it's less forceful, less testing. Instead, they immerse themselves into a flow. They fight as if conversing- as if dancing. It’s beautiful. They send out every strike knowing- expecting- how the other would block. They stepped around each other in perfect sync. It was as if every movement was planned.

They lose themselves in it. An unknown amount of time passes before they both step back and seem to call it quits, despite no words being spoken.

Jaune steps forward slightly, tentative hope shining behind all the joy in his eyes. Pyrrha closes her own, but her smile doesn’t retreat.

“I still don’t remember- but- I think… my body remembers,” she explains softly, “that felt…”

“Familiar?” Jaune interjects after a moment.

“Natural,” she opens her eyes again, “and familiar”.

“That's good enough for now,” he hums, stepping forward and wrapping her in a hug. She accepts it readily.

Chapter Text

Something has been eating at Jaune for a while now. The first couple of hours after their spar had been good. Everything seemed normal. But then he realized something. Something important was missing from her fighting style. It only just hit him what it was a bit ago, but he hasn’t been sure of how to bring it up to her.

“Jaune, is everything okay?” she asks. It’s only then that he notices that he’s been staring off into his bowl of soup for a little longer than normal. With a frown on his face to boot.

“I know it isn’t my cooking. What’s got you so pensive?” she slides closer to him on the ground, her own bowl in her hands. He lets out an uneasy breath.

“Pyrrha… why didn’t you use your semblance during our fight today?” it comes out a little rushed as he decided to just come out and say it. He watches for her reaction, but nothing is forthcoming. She just… sits there and stares back at him.

“My what?” she finally asks.

“Your semblance. Why didn’t you use it? You had plenty of openings to…” he trails off as she continues to watch him with an empty expression. His shoulders slowly slump.

“You don’t remember what a semblance is… do you,” he realizes. She shakes her head. He takes a second and looks into the soup, as if collecting his thoughts in the broth.

“A semblance is a manifestation of your aura,” he explains slowly before looking back up. She continues to just stare back at him.

“Okay back tracking… An aura is a physical manifestation of your soul. The more in tune with yourself you are, the stronger your aura. Then the stronger your aura, the more likely you develop your semblance”. He finishes his explanation. She finally shifted her gaze off of him and into the fire, visibly processing the information. She turns back.

“What does a semblance do?” Her voice is strong, she seems to have caught on.

“Everyone’s semblance is slightly different. Ren can mask emotions, Nora can take in electricity and gain strength from it, and Ruby can turn into rose petals and move in short spurts. Then Weiss can summon almost ghostlike versions of the grimm, Blake can make shadow clones of herself, and Yang can dish out all the damage she receives, but tenfold.

“There are very few who’s semblances are hereditary, like Weiss’. Then there are those who’s semblances evolve with them, like Ren. He can see emotions now too, and not just mask them,” Jaune clarifies. Pyrrha watches him with interest, still eating her portion of soup.

“What about you?” she asks in between bites.

“I amp other’s aura with my own. I make theirs stronger,” he pokes at the soup with his spoon bashfully. When Pyrrha died, he didn’t have his semblance yet. Telling her now makes him realize how far he’s come since then.

“What was mine?” is her next question.

“Polarity,” he answers simply. She smirks slightly in a teasing way.

“I could control poles?” it's not so much a question this time. Jaune lets out a good chuckle.

“No, you could influence metal. You worked very well with it too. It's what helped you win all those tournaments. It's also what…” his face drops, and he stops himself from talking further.

“What did it also do?” she prompts, her head tilting slightly to the side. An image flashes in Jaune’s mind. Penny pulled into pieces on the floor of Amity, Pyrrha looking absolutely horrified. How unsure she acted afterward.

“It’s what gave you the title ‘the invincible girl’, but you never liked that name much,” he decides not to bring up what happened on her final day. Even if it had a chance of making her remember, he doesn’t want it to be tainted. Or if it doesn’t make her remember, it might make her not want to remember at all.

“Hmmm, I can see why. It would make opponents want to be the one who finally took me down,” she hums almost too nonchalantly over her soup. Jaune lets out another long, but less shaky, breath.

The next few minutes they spend in silence, finishing their meal in peace. Jaune downs the last bit in his bowl, before turning to his partner.

“Would you like to try working on your aura?” The look on his face is serious and determined.

“What would that entail?” Her voice is curious, but there is caution behind her eyes.

“Working with it on a daily basis. Getting used to it. Learning to fight with it. Can I check to see if it’s even unlocked?” he reaches out his hand tentatively. She nods, and his hand finds her cheek. The same feeling from the day he kissed her flutters in her stomach, but she's able to smother the rising thoughts with interest in the present situation.

A ripple flashes around him after a second, and he lets out a short breath.

“No aura, no wonder you haven’t been even aware of a semblance. Not like you had anyone to tell you before now. Here,” he pauses before he starts to intone something, like reading a poem from a book, “It is through passing that we achieve immortality. Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all; Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee,”

The ripples appear again but stay for longer. She is able to get a better look at it, and it looks like the pattern of the ocean waves, but bright white. It covers the man from head to toe. She's enamored with it for a second, before noticing that the pattern has spread to herself as well, but instead a vibrant shade of red. Her eyes are large as she looks over the strange glow around her.

She feels… powerful… comforted, like a protective blanket thrown over her. As he finishes the intonation, she puts a hand on top of his own, still on her cheek. Just like the spar earlier that day, it feels so natural and familiar. She silently thanks him as she revels in the feelings of the moment.

The Jabberwalker just couldn’t catch a break. For most of its life its purpose was undisputed. But for some time now they have had to fight against another being in order to do what it was created to do. Then, another showed up! And before long the two started to work together. They became stronger since they met, much to its dismay.

Before the newer one appeared, the red one was diligent, but always let them get away. But now they chase them far back toward their own acre. And if that wasn’t enough salt on the wound, now that there are two of them, when they hit them, the warriors start to glow. Glow! And every injury it causes them seems to dissipate easily!

The Jabberwalker doesn’t understand why the tree sent two warriors to stunt his purpose in the Ever After. It hopes that they will leave soon. It has its purpose to conduct after all.

Pyrrha had been gone for longer than normal. She had warned him ahead of time, but the man found it awfully empty in the village with her gone for longer than a few days. And she had been gone at least three weeks by now.

The Paper Pleasers had picked up on their knight’s almost dejected nature of late and had put it upon themselves to distract him. And that meant giving him various odd jobs to do around town.

At this very moment that job happens to be helping the Paper Pleaser named Velvet make a bunch of tiny origami stars for who knows what purpose. It was definitely something to keep his hands busy, but unfortunately not so much his head. His mind was off drifting, thinking about his partner, where his mind often was these days.

“Mrrrrp,” Juniper whirrs, and leans her head up against her friend from her loafed position on the ground. She seems to sense where his mind is. Jaune snaps back to reality and gives her a warm smile and some pets in thanks.

“I just miss her. She’s never been gone this long before,” he voices. Juniper purrs back in agreement.

“I’m glad you miss her too,” he lets out a very apathetic laugh. With his thoughts still lightly on his partner, he continues to fold tiny paper star after tiny paper star. Time starts to meld together like putty.

Suddenly Juniper’s head pops up, startling Jaune out of his rhythm. He blinks for a second, readjusting his eyes to see things other than what's two feet in front of him, and follows his friend's line of sight.

It’s her .

All previous thoughts lost to the wind, Jaune stands up as fast as his body allows him to and starts to jog to his friend. The jog shifts quickly into a run, and he uses that momentum to pick her up by her waist and spin her around. The sound of pure joy that it elicits from her dives straight into his heart. It's warm and heart-wrenching at the same time.

She lands back on the ground lightly, but he doesn’t let go.

“Your back,” he exclaims breathlessly, holding her close. His heart expands as she doesn’t back away. In fact, she relaxes into it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be away for so long. I had to help Steadfast with protecting the grand ball of the white season and making sure everyone got there and back safely. And of course, there were some creatures who requested help with various things, and before I could think twice, I found myself already helping them…” she mumbles on and on. He just watches her with the biggest and warmest smile on his face as she does.

She finishes up her long-winded explanation of where she had been with a deep inhale and exhale, and melts completely into her partner's embrace. He pulls her in readily, and she clicks in place like a puzzle piece against him.

She rests her head on his shoulder, and he adjusts to gently hold her head there.

His heart is beating so fast, but no amount of embarrassment could make him push her away. He never got to hold her like this when they were young. He would stay forever like this if he could.

As he held her, he came to the slow realization of what emotion was overtaking him. Of course, he wouldn’t admit it, least of all out loud. But the realization was there, nonetheless.

Pyrrha, on the other hand, had no idea of what was happening to her companion, nor to herself at that moment.

She had hugged him multiple times by now, but it was his pure excitement to see her that made her feel warm. So warm, in fact, that she had melted into him. It was all so new to the woman. With all the friends she had here in the various acres, of course she was excited to see them, but never with this much raw emotion. It was… confusing. Was this just something that humans, and by extension the fannus, felt toward one another?

Or perhaps this is just what friends and family felt toward one another. She remembers how kindly he often spoke of his friends. Perhaps that warmth comes with the elevated heart rate and constant desire to be near them at all times. How odd , she thinks, I seem to be human and yet remember none of these things. Perhaps I should ask Jaune about it later. But for now…

“Alright Jaune, I’ve been traveling all day, and I would trade everything on me for your cooking right now,” the woman jokes, slowly peeling herself away. The man lets out an almost unnoticeable reluctant sigh but lets her go without complaint.

“Okay, I’ll make dinner if you promise not to be gone that long again,” he says, offering a deal. She makes a face as if thinking for a moment, before breaking out into her large, beautiful grin once again.

“Deal,” she nods. With that, the two begin walking off toward Jaune’s hut, a soft smile on each of their faces, eager to spend time with one another again.

“So, now that you’ve been fighting with your aura for a while now, how do you feel?” Jaune asks. They are on their way back from chasing the Jabberwalker back into its acre, a wild chase and a thrilling fight. Pyrrha had used her aura quite a few times during the scuffle.

“It feels almost like I am cheating. The Jabberwalker doesn’t get a protective field around it…” she trails off for a second, but cuts Jaune off from his response when she continues, “but yet, like so many other things you’ve shown me, it feels natural. Just another bit of muscle memory kicking in, it's… exhilarating!” Jaune just chuckles from in front of her on Juniper.

“If only your younger self could hear you now,” he mutters amusedly. Instead of questioning him, she leans up against his back.

“Jaune… do you think I’ll ever remember?” The hesitation in her voice is evident. There is a tense pause.

“I don’t know,” he admits finally, “I thought something would have jarred your memory by now, but it hasn’t”. Silence settles for a moment.

“What if… I’m not her?” The question that’s been eating at her for ages finally comes to light. What if ? What if she’s just another creature in the Ever After like she always thought she was? That would mean Jaune would leave her, and she’d eventually reincarnate and forget. If not the next reincarnation, then the one after, or the one after that. The thought makes her heart ache.

“If you’re not Pyrrha then… I’d still want you to stay. When my friends arrive, we’d find a way home, and you would be more than welcome to come with us. In fact, I’d want you to,” he says, his voice full of confidence. He wants me to come with, even if I am not who he wants me to be , the thought dances in her head, and it makes tears sting her eyes.

“You wouldn’t still call me Pyrrha, would you? I mean, I wouldn’t want to cause any confusion, especially to your team,” she does her best to hide the tension in her throat.

“No, I guess I couldn’t call you that anymore. But I guess that’s the fun part then, picking your own name,” he answers jovially.

“Well, what kind of name do you think I should have?” she presses forward into him so that she can put her head on his left shoulder.

“Pyrrha,” he answers without hesitation. She laughs.

“Other than that,” she rolls her eyes.

“Hmm,” he thinks for a second, “I think it’d have to be something noble, something refined and beautiful. Like you”.

“Jaune,” she warns lightly.

“I’m just telling the truth," He shrugs lightly, and the conversation dies naturally. Pyrrha doesn’t move from her vantage point over his shoulder. She finds she quite likes the physical contact, and that she can see forward without him in her way.

They travel for just a few minutes in silence before a distant crack of thunder reaches their ears. All three of them lift their heads and turn around toward the noise. Dark clouds litter the sky, slowly encroaching them.

“A thunderstorm? Haven’t seen one of those in a while,” Jaune comments lightly. Pyrrha’s face hardens slightly.

“Not a thunderstorm, a punderstorm. Best not to be caught out away from safety when it hits,” she faces back toward the way they were previously going. Jaune twists just a bit more to look at her.

“A punderstorm?”

“It makes metaphorical turns of phrases literal. Last time I got caught in one, I accidentally mentioned hitting two birds with one stone. The storm didn’t let me out until I hit two birds with a single stone. Thankfully those birds were punderstorm magic, and not real birds,” she sighs. Realization seems to hit the man, and his face darkens slightly, the same as his partners did just a bit ago.

“Well then, I’m glad we are almost back to the village. Let's get going,” he turns back around and nudges Juniper into a trot. They get back before the storm. The Paper Pleasers are out and about without a care in the world. Sharing a look of amusement, the two get to work nudging each star into their own home. They are helping the last few when the storm hits.

Small paper raindrops fall from the sky. The paper hits the top of the paper houses and just rolls off and disappears into the ground. But when the paper hits the two warriors, it becomes actual water, threatening to soak them.

“Well, that's unfair,” Jaune lightly jokes. The two of them quickly finish getting the last Paper Pleaser into their home, and then run for Jaune’s.

“Are you sure that isn’t just a normal thunderstorm?” he asks, as they shed their droplet covered armor. A crack of thunder echoes out in the distance. Pyrrha nods.

“The air from a punderstorm is much lighter. Doesn’t have the dark and moist smell. Could you hand me that towel please?” she nods to the extra towel on the table as she removes the last bit of her wet armor. Jaune grabs it, but as he reaches out to hand it to her, the world around them warps and sends him back a couple of feet. Both of them blink.

“I was not standing behind the table a couple of seconds ago, was I?” he asks, not believing his own eyes. Pyrrha just shakes her head, her eyes also as wide as his. Jaune tries again, and again he seems to shift back a couple of feet.

“Let me try,” Pyrrha says, and steps forward to grab the towel from him. She's able to.

“Huh. Maybe it was just the towel?” The question floats around as both of them continue to clean up the small puddles and stray moisture.

Jaune steps sideways to pick up his helmet and is again sent back a few feet.

“It happened again!”

“It did? What caused it?”

“I went to pick up my helmet,” he points to his helmet to Pyrrha’s right.

“Try again,” she urges, and he complies. Once again, he's sent back. Both of them stand dumbfounded for a moment.

“Again,” Pyrrha says, crossing over to him, to see from another angle. He does again. This time he's able to pick up his helmet.

“Why was I able to this time?” the question hangs in the air. After a moment Jaune puts down his helmet back where it was and walks back to Pyrrha to try again. He only gets within arm's length of her before he’s sent back again. Both of them look sharply toward each other in surprise.

“It’s you, we can’t go near each other,” the realization causes the man’s shoulders to drop sadly. Pyrrha shakes her head slightly, a look of deep thought on her face.

“No… I was able to walk toward you to grab the towel, and to watch you walk over to your helmet… I don’t think you can come near me, but I can come near you,” she lifts her head slowly and exchanges looks with her partner.

“That’s illogical,” he makes a face of disappointed disgust, “and unfair”. Pyrrha sighs and starts to move around the house.

“We will just have to wait it out. I’m thankful whatever we got stuck in wasn’t too dramatic. We can work with this. For now, let's get washed up and enjoy our night off. The Jabberwalker should stay in his acre for tonight at least,” she hums, pulling stuff out of the shelves to start making dinner. Jaune simply sighs, then grabs one of the towels off of the table.

“At least we have extra water on hand for washing up now,” despite his positive words, his tone is as dry as can be.

“That's the spirit,” she quips, matching his lack of energy. He turns to leave but stops. Her back is turned toward him, and in a last-ditch effort, he walks toward her slowly until he is just an arm's reach away. Hesitantly he reaches out… and the world warps around him and he’s put back just out of arm's reach. He drops his hand.

 Pyrrha turns her head slightly and looks at him sadly from the corner of her eye. He looks lost. He knows that he doesn’t need to touch her, but the fact that he can’t has him desperate to.

The look on his face breaks her heart. She steps forward and takes his face in her hands. No words are said, but she tries her best to reassure him with looks alone. He smiles ever so softly. It breaks her heart again. She pulls his head down a bit and kisses his forehead. This smile is more genuine. She mirrors it in kind, and after a moment, lets him go, and returns back to prepping dinner.

Jaune stands there for only a second more, before giving in and finally leaving to go wash up for the day. He turns his thoughts from anger as to why he can’t touch his best friend and partner, to why the punderstorm chose to do what it did. It's almost like no matter how hard he tries he can’t bridge the gap between them, so then the punderstorm created an almost real gap between them. Except that it only affects him.

For the next few days Jaune is left wondering if Pyrrha knows what love is. Some emotions she has expressed not understanding their root, but experienced them, nonetheless. But they haven’t come close to ever discussing the emotion of love. He has a hard time knowing how to breach the subject, but the question floats in his mind.

Especially now, as the two lay next to the campfire, heads adjacent to each other, bodies angled away, and both staring up at the stars. There have been so many times where he mourns the path they could have taken together, that they found each other so late and in this place. But at this moment, he feels at peace. There is a soft sense of love that has seeped into every one of his bones as he listens to her recount a story from her time here in the Ever After. Her head is just inches away to his right. If he turned his head he could see every line on her face, every mark, every detail. He wonders again if she knows what love means.

Pyrrha stares out into the deep night sky as she describes her first encounter with the Afterens from the Sweets acre. She knows her stories don’t rival her partners, but she likes switching it up a bit. It feels rude to have him entertain her every single night. It's been part of their nightly routine, but that doesn’t mean it has to stay exactly the same. First, it’s sparring, then cleaning up, followed by making the fire and dinner. After that they recount stories or just talk about the day. But always after they are done, they head off to bed for the night. Jaune to his home, and Pyrrha to her tree.

It was a routine that they had accidentally fallen into, but not one they had any interest in changing.

“I had told him I was sorry, but the way he had pouted, I just couldn’t keep a straight face!” she lets out a soft laugh that is echoed by the man next to her.

“He was probably more exasperated by how often you say sorry than anything else,” he jokes.

“I- I don’t-!” she stutters in defense.

“You do!” he points out, a large grin on his face. She sits up on her forearm to look at him better, a sigh on her lips.

“I do… I’m sorry,” she says in her typical apologetic tone. There is a brief moment before she realizes what she says, and the two of them burst out laughing.

Through the laughter Jaune looks up at his partner. She hovers just a foot away from his face. The desire to kiss her fills his senses. He would just have to reach out and pull her close. It would be so simple. So effortless. His last kiss is so distant in his memory, that he fears he wouldn’t do it right. Amazing how the moment after it, the moment of fear and desperation, is more etched into his mind than the moment before.

“Oh Jaune, your hair is all messy now. Here, l can fix that,” she ended her laughter with that soft realization, and before he can act, she lifts herself off the ground and heads off toward her tree. He let out a soft swear as she slips out of view. He sits up as he thinks about what he almost did.

There is a brief feeling of loss, before it's followed by panic. How would she have responded to it? Sure, it could’ve been dreamlike and perfect, but she also could have responded negatively. It could have ruined their whole relationship that they’ve built up so far. ‘ I don’t even know if she knows what love is, or attraction or… that . If I were to spring it on her… ’ he shakes his head slightly ‘ but what if she does know. What then? ’. Again, his questions plague him.

His thoughts quiet as she walks back out, a brush in one hand, and a stool in the other. The stool she had bought at the market in the Red acre. It was small and made out of wood, but very well crafted. The brush is simple but sturdy. She had brought it back from the northern market last time she acquired new clothing.

She sets the stool down next to him and waits expectantly. He shakes himself out of his mind and turns his back toward her.

“What's wrong?” she asks kindly.

“Just… lost in my thoughts I guess,” he sighs, a hint of a smile in his tone. She just hums in response.

“Here, I can take my hair out-” he offers, not quite sure why she wants to brush his hair, but he's not upset about it. He reaches back to take out the ribbon but she’s already on it.

“I got it, don’t worry, relax,” there is a bit of laughter in her voice.

As she touches the fabric that Jaune seems to constantly be using to tie his hair back, she realizes this is the first time she's gotten to look at it this closely. It just seems like basic red fabric. But there is something about it that tugs at her mind. ‘ Why would this simple thing- ’

Her body suddenly feels like it's falling. She has to close her eyes to keep herself from literally tumbling over. The feeling of falling… it’s like when you get jerked awake from your sleep… or when… ‘ when I was falling from the blacksmith to the tree ’. She suddenly has the wind taken out of her, and her eyes fly open with a sharp intake of breath. It's like the first time in a long time that she's able to see.

Jaune startles at the sharp intake of breath behind him. Out of curiosity, he turns his head slightly to see what caused her to have such a reaction. She's holding the strip of fabric in her hands, her eyes glistening from tears threatening to spill at any moment. He jolts ever so slightly and turns a bit more toward her.

Pyrrha blinks, but instead of clearing the moisture from her eyes, it simply makes it collect together and slide down her cheek. Her eyes flicker to him finally. The look on her face filled with too many emotions to name.

“Jaune,” she chokes out. It's just his name, but something about how she says it has his heart leaping in his chest. He looks at her hopefully, turning even farther to face her. She reaches out and puts a hand on either side of his face. The brush and the hair ribbon falling off of her lap, long forgotten.

Memories rush back to her. Everything that he had been describing to her these last few months clicks into place in her brain. It's like a fog that she didn’t know existed has suddenly lifted. She squints her eyes slightly as more tears break through.

“Jaune,” she barely croaks out, before whispering, “Jaune”. The hope in his chest is clogging his throat.

“Pyrrha?” he asks softly, not entirely sure what’s happening, but mentally preparing for the best and the worst-case scenario.

“I remember,” she whispers, a creak of a smile on her face, despite the tears. His fears dissipate in a second. Hope starts to turn toward excitement. She looks back at him with all the love her crying face can muster.

“You do?-” he doesn’t even get to finish his short two-word sentence before she pulls his face in and kisses him soundly. It only takes a second before he responds in kind. How ironic his thoughts from just a few mere minutes ago feel. She slides off the stool to be closer, and he snakes an arm around her waist. She refuses to let go despite the onslaught of tears. It's only when she lets out a soft hiccup sob, that he pulls back slightly and starts to kiss her tears away.

The memories are just so heavy. All that time living in this world, and she couldn’t even remember her own mother or father. She couldn't remember all those who supported her for so many years, her friends, or the things that made her who she is. She’s been living but has been missing such a big piece of her for so long, that now that it's back, she can’t help but mourn.

And mourn she does. She cries so much, she doesn’t even notice when Jaune moves them so she is sitting on his lap, curled against his chest.

He holds her as close as he can. He doesn’t know exactly why she is crying, but he makes an educated guess. He tries not to break down himself imagining how she must feel. He tries to be strong for her.

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbles quietly between sobs.

“I’ve missed you too,” he replies, his eyes stinging. He doesn’t try to hold it back anymore.

Chapter Text

Act 3

To say that the two of them returned to their casual friendship the next morning would be a deliberate lie. From the moment they woke up, they couldn’t stop laughing and smiling at each other. They continued the same routine as always, but there was a definite spark to the both of their eyes that the Afterens around them couldn’t miss.

The Paper Pleasers were slightly startled at the warriors’ exuberate attitudes this morning. They were talking about things that were far beyond their knowledge. Things they just couldn’t understand. Yet they stayed pleasant and helpful as always, as was their duty.

“Ruby Rose!” Pyrrha announced happily, picking up the red Paper Pleaser Jaune had dubbed Ruby. The man in question beamed. He hadn’t mentioned last names to Pyrrha at all before. But as soon as the Paper Pleasers were getting up for the day, she started to list their names off, first and last, one by one.

“And me,” she lets out a soft laugh, picking up another who indeed, carried her name as well. Jaune meanders forward toward them slowly.

“And what would your name be again? I seem to have forgotten,” he asks with a teasing tone. She lifts her eyes to the sky briefly before setting the Paper Pleaser back down.

“Pyrrha Diana Nikos,” she says confidently. Jaune blinks.

“Diana?”

“My middle name,”

“I didn’t know that was your middle name,”

“We had this conversation the second week of school,”

“It's been a long time since then! Look, it's not like you remember my middle name, right?” Jaune asks exasperated.

“Dee,” she replies easily.

“What?”

“Dee. Your middle name is Dee. A ‘d’ with two ‘e’s,” she crosses her arms lightly, a look on her face that is as smug as she personally can get.

“Eh! Fine you win. You’re right,” he sighs dramatically, but the smile on his face is still wide. Pyrrha slides up next to him and places a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I love you Jaune Dee Arc,” she whispers. Red blooms on his face. The internal teenage panic is overwritten within seconds by maturity.

“I love you too,” he responds, kissing her back. As the kiss breaks there is an obvious silence in the village. The two look over to see everyone watching curiously.

The couple’s faces both bloom brightly.

“What was that?” one of them asks with pure innocent curiosity. The two chuckle awkwardly. They had a lot of explaining to do.

“So… how is sparring now that your memory is back?” Jaune asks the woman sitting a couple of feet to his right. She’s attempting to reset the spearhead that had loosened slightly in the exchange. Her lips pull back into a tired smile.

“Not too different. I’m glad my body remembered what my mind didn’t, otherwise I’d be in a much different situation,” she pauses as she adjusts the spear with some force, “Now that I know it’s gone, it does feel odd to not have my semblance”. She looks over her work and nods slightly at the results.

“Still not back, hm?” he chuckles, “Guess our roles are reversed now”. Pyrrha stands up and meanders gracefully toward him.

“And It’ll come back in time. Just like it came around the first time, and just like how yours came around too,” she crouches down next to her companion and puts a hand on his shoulder. His smile shifts from soft to pained.

“I’m glad it came when it did, otherwise Weiss would be dead,” he huffs. There is a strained aire between them for a second. Tension of long past unrequited love and unspoken words dance at the forefront. Both of them are unsure if the other is feeling the sudden crack between them.

“Well… I’m glad it did as well. And your semblance… fits you perfectly. I’m proud of you,” her words warm the space around them, and they smile at each other gratefully. After a long moment Jaune’s eyes harden, and his face drops.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I did before I fell here,” he stands up and backs away from his friend.

“What do you mean? I’m sure whatever-” she does her best to comfort him, but he cuts her off.

“I’ve been telling you all about our world for the past few months to jog your memory. Now it is time to tell you what happened while you were, well… dead,” his tone, while hard, has a tinge of remorse to it. Worry rises in Pyrrha’s chest, but she stays quiet and follows him to their campfire.

Blackened and cold from being lit and extinguished every night prior, itself and the area around it speak to the use it has undergone in the last couple of months. Jaune dips away for a moment to grab the meal to be cooked for the night, while Pyrrha starts the fire.

In no time at all the two are seated in their normal spots, but no words have yet to be said. Pyrrha waits patiently, with understanding written all over her face. Jaune seems pained; a mix of wanting desperately to talk about it contrasting the horror of revealing the thread of truth and lies that JNR and RWBY had unraveled.

Seeing his pain, Pyrrha shifts closer, and puts a comforting hand over his.

“If you don’t want to tonight we can-” she starts, but he cuts her off again. Her simply breaking the silence was enough for him to speak and get it over with.

“The night that you- that beacon fell to the grimm… you weren’t the only casualty, obviously,” he starts strong, with no emotion, but that quickly breaks. The redhead nods once in understanding. He starts again, but this time in a more normal tone.

“Ozpin was the other widely mourned death. I think you could’ve assumed that. Yang lost her right arm to Blake’s ex; one of the rebel leaders of the white fang,” Pyrrha starts slightly in surprise, but does not intrude, “Blake stayed around long enough to make sure her team was okay before vanishing. Ruby got up to the tower a second too late and saw you… she unlocked the power in her silver eyes… statue-ifed the giant wyvern, and injured Cinder”. His sentences hold too many pauses, and he doesn’t spell it all out, but it is enough for her to get the grasp of the situation. She sits staring into the fire.

At first he thinks it's because she's shocked at the information, or she's trying to absorb it all. He expects her to ask about what is so special about silver eyes, but then he sees the glint of fire reflected in her own. She's angry. There are too many emotions to be contemplating, so it makes sense for that to be the one she falls to. It surprises him, but after being through all he has, he understands. He continues on.

“Thankfully all the rest of us made it out. Yang and Ruby went home to Patch, Weiss got taken home by her father. Blake was initially M.I.A, but we later found out she went home to Menagerie. Nora, Ren and I stayed close. I was going to take them to my home with me, but shortly after the fall, we got a message from Ruby. She wanted to journey to Minstral to find out more about Cinder and her group. We had suspicion that Haven was the next target. So off we went, the four of us- team RNJR!” he let out a very halfhearted laugh. It's enough to shake Pyrrha out of it, and she turns her head slightly to the side and smiles weakly at him.

“It was a rough road, across Anima. We ran into so many grimm, and this crazy assassin fannus guy named Tyrian, who…” he pauses, “I’ll get to that in a minute… and that was when Ruby and Yang’s uncle Qrow found us, and helped us out. Turns out, there is more to the whole magic story than you were given before being asked to be a maiden”. His face hardens again. Pyrrha perks up.

“Like what?” her voice is curious, but a part deep down inside starts to flare up in anger again. She hadn’t thought about her choice of being a maiden again, and the memory of it stirs up a lot of old emotions. Emotions that have had time to ferment.

“I would ask you what your favorite fairy tale is but asking would be cruel irony,” he huffs and gestures around them, “I’ll just start by saying the brother gods? They are real. They are the ones responsible for magic, and the loss of it. For Ozpin’s predicament, and for the unkillable nature of the queen of grimm…”

“The gods… and… what?” astonishment and confusion is written all over her body.

“Like I said,” Jaune leans back onto the ground, “there is a lot to catch up on”.

Jaune fills her in on everything that happens up through their arrival in Argus, and the past revealed by Jinn. It was easier for Pyrrha to learn of Oz’s past than it was for Jaune to tell it. He felt the consequences of the past much more violently than she had after all. But the more he talked about Argus, the more she got a dazed happy look in her eye. That alone was enough to calm his nerves for now.

“I’d love to go back one day, when the weight of the world isn’t hanging over our shoulders. Perhaps during the summer. Both Nora and Ren mentioned wanting to spend some time at the beach, but it was too cold,” Jaune muses. Pyrrha hums in light acknowledgement.

“It’s best to go during the height of summer or after, before the temps change. The water can be pretty cool because it comes from the north,” she notes kindly. There is a pause before he almost whispers the next part.

“I met your mom… while in Argus,” the thought hangs in the air before Pyrrha reacts.

“You did! How was she? Did she reach out first? Or did you? Did you see anyone else from my family? Did she get to meet Nora and Ren too? How about team RWBY?” she shoots out question after question, a sense of longing on her face.

“We met by accident,” he continued in a soft voice, a harsh contrast to her questions, “We had been searching for Oscar. After we found out what we did, I kind of… lost my temper and took it out on him. He went missing shortly after and we all went looking. Nora, Ren and I  stopped at a park, and the two of them went to grab something warm to drink”. He pauses for a breath.

“I uh… noticed a leaf fly by and felt that I… you… well I followed it, and found your statue,”

“My what?” Pyrrha interjects, voice flat; not quite believing what he is saying.

“There was a statue, dedicated to all those who died at Beacon during the fall… it was… well a statue of you,” he explains, not quite sure how to break this all to her. Most living people don't get a statue in their honor. And while she wasn’t alive then, she is now. Which makes this all the more awkward.

“Still putting me on that fu- on that flipping pedestal,” she mutters under her breath, her face closed off and rock hard. Jaune blinks, then sits back with a huff.

“Yeah, I guess they were. Literally in that case. But you were an inspiration, and you did what no one else could have dared to. Lots of people admired you,” he admits, a touch of awe lining his voice.

“But I failed,” her voice is dark, edgy.

“It doesn’t matter if you succeeded or failed, what matters is that you tried. While I would have preferred if you didn’t kiss me then shove me in a locker before running off to die, we’re here now, so… we have some time,” he scoots closer a bit. In Jaune’s mind, he wants to yell at her for what she did. Tell her she should have been more selfish. Let them work together. A bunch of things that he lost so many hours of sleep over, thinking what he would say to her if he could. But he doesn’t. She needs his support, just like she did all those years ago. And this time he is determined not to screw it up.

“You’re right,” she says, leaning into him, “what did my mom say?”

“She said she’s proud of you no matter what, and that although you never got your license, you were every bit a huntress,” he answers softly. She doesn’t respond. Just nods lightly once, then stares out into the distance. He waits a couple of minutes before continuing.

“Ren and Nora didn’t get to meet her. She left right as they showed up. I wish they could've met her too,” he admits. Pyrrha nods again.

“She loved you guys. I could tell from all the times I told her and the rest of my family about you all. I think she might have been still dealing with her grief, and that might've been too much too soon,” she muses out loud. There is another few minutes of quiet before she speaks again.

“So how did you get past the Argus military base? Cordovin isn’t one to be trifled with,” Pyrrha asks. Jaune lets out an awkward but pure laugh.

“About that…”

“Okay, so you succeeded in stealing an airship from one of the tightest security bases, broke some sense into one of the most headstrong military officers I’ve ever met, and flew past Atlas’ military border all in the same morning?” Pyrrha summarizes with clear astonishment and even a tad bit of pride.

“Heh, yeah” is Jaune’s only response. The tone had gotten lighter around them as he described their fight against Cordovin. Despite the desperation at the time, the overall situation carried a hint of ridiculousness that they couldn’t deny.

“So… how did Atlas welcome you?” she prompts, her eyes glazing over slightly. She lets herself remember the sight of flying in from Argus. When she visited when she was younger, she thought it looked breathtaking and amazing. A testament to mankind’s determination and ingenuity. As she got older, she could clearly see the effect of the floating city- its shadow.

“Well, we were flying in on a stolen airship… so we did what we viewed as the safest option and headed straight for Mantle. Of course, how safe could we be with the lamp? And not long after landing, we were attacked by a couple of Sabers,” he let out a chuckle.

“Grimm got in? What about the wall?”

“There was a hole, but guess who came to our resc-” he stops abruptly, and his face goes white and hard as stone.

“What's wrong? Who helped?” she asks softly, reaching out to her partner.

“Pyrrha you didn’t kill Penny,” he whispers. Her hand stops in mid air. She lets out a single sharp breath of surprise.

“Her father got her parts back from Amity, and he rebuilt her,” he speaks fast, as if holding something back, “he said since he brought her to life using his own aura, this was the last time he could bring her back”. There is a long pause before Jaune finally gets the courage to glance over to her. She's frozen solid, one hand still in the air between them. Her eyes are glazed over. Lost.

“You didn’t… you didn’t kill her,” he barely gets out, strained as the sentence is. She drops her hands slowly, but the look on her face doesn’t change.

“If she was human I would have,” she barely mumbles. Her hands start to shake at the realization, and a tear drips from her vacant eyes. In her mind, she’s reliving it all over again. The moment when she swore she saw all those swords. Her moment of panic. Then the moment of cold fear dripped down her back. Of feeling paralyzed and helpless. The realization that you are the reason that a family will never see their child again. That you’ve done the one thing that was against every moral you stood for. You killed someone; A peer, in cold blood.

“We have reason to suspect that the match was set up, both yours and Yang’s,” Jaune’s voice filters through the memory, “we know now that Emerald can influence what people see, and that Mercury has metal legs. The both of them and Cinder most likely hacked into the system and set it all up. I wouldn’t be surprised if Watts had a hand in it as well”. The implications are enough to bring Pyrrha back to reality. Her eyes shift slowly over to her partner.

“They made you destroy Penny. They pulled the rug out from all of us, and they used both you and Yang in the process,” he locks eyes with her, as if to make sure the sentence reaches far into her mind. They stay there for a minute, processing and coming to terms with it all. Slowly, almost unnoticeable, Pyrrha begins to relax.

“She was back in Atlas then, I’m sure that made Ruby very happy,” she finally breaks her silence. Jaune nods lightly.

“It did. They were very happy to see each other again,” A smile dusts his face, before it threatens to drop again. He seems to fight with himself a bit, many emotions crossing paths. This does not go unnoticed.

“Jaune… there is something that you aren’t telling me. What's bothering you,” she sounds almost like his overly perceptive mother for a moment. It makes him pause and look around. There is a strange calm that washes over him. All of a sudden he’s living in the here and now, and he did something unspeakable, but it was so long ago and in another world.

“Pyrrha… you destroyed Penny. You didn’t kill her. I killed her. Ruby used the staff of creation to separate her metal parts from her soul, and she became something akin to a human. I killed her,” he finally admits, his voice surprisingly calm and relaxed despite fighting to be that way when trying to talk of it previously. His sudden change in attitude and admittance makes Pyrrha pause once again, but this time it’s different.

“Jaune, you and I both know that you would never do anything like that without reason… and that there is more to the story than that-” she reaches for more words of comfort, but finds none, “I’m sure that… Oh… Ruby”. Despite everything, she knew how much Ruby meant to Penny and visa versa. ‘ To lose a friend twice… ’

“That’s why,” his calm demeanor finally cracks along with his voice. He takes a moment to try to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I’ve lived here for so many years. So many years have passed, but I still don’t know how I’ll face Ruby”. Every one of his words is pained, and he drops his head into his hands.

Though it's now dark, the dance of the light from the flames illuminates his crunched over figure. The light darkens the shadows and makes it near impossible to see his face. Even without her intuition, Pyrrha knows he's crying. Without saying anything, she scoots closer and wraps an arm around his form. She doesn’t try to reassure him, but simply to support.

As time passes, and the tears begin to fade, the two of them sit hip to hip, hand in hand, staring off into the fire. Pyrrha takes the time to process all she’s learned about Salem and Oz and the changes of their world; all the threads and lies and half-truths woven so deeply she's not terribly surprised she wasn’t told everything initially.

Jaune on the other hand stares blankly into the fire. Finally, what he has done has come to light, and while admitting it out loud was something he didn’t dare do before, he realizes it’ll have to be said again. And more than anything he doesn’t want to hurt one of his closest friends. But what other choice does he have?

Later that night, Pyrrha comes to terms with her past in her own way, alone. Despite how often she always expressed the importance of leaning on others for support, she herself could not find the courage to do that very thing. Growing up taller than others and maturing slightly faster dubbed her the mom friend. And just like mothers, she took on the emotional burdens alone.

Thus, there she sat, alone in the dark on her carefully built nest of a mattress, letting all that happened come to the forefront of her mind once again. Her body may be that of a grown woman, but her heart has missed all those years since she died back on Remnant, and thus she weeps like the 18-year-old she truly is. It's a heart wrenching sound, and a sound that does not go unnoticed.

“What do you mourn, child? ” The voice is warm and caring in her mind. It startles her out of her tears momentarily. Pyrrha curses herself for not remembering Beacon, and for not choosing somewhere else to cry.

“I may no longer be the tree I once was, but my memories remain. …What do you mourn, child? ” Beacon asks again after a pause with no response. Pyrrha takes a deep breath, not sure how to respond.

“I remembered who I once was. All those things that confused me long ago make sense once again,”

“That's good, is it not? ”

“Initially, yes. But before I died in the other world I did… I did something unspeakable.  Also, I… left … my friends in a time when I could have been of help to them,” her sniffles and hiccups dot the explanation.

“What do you mean by help them? Did you know something, or were only you able to do something of importance? ”

“Well, no, but I could have helped shoulder the burden. They dealt with so much death- and I don’t mean reincarnation, but Jabberwalker type death- all by themselves. And the lies… so many lies. And I… and I… I… Penny,” A sob overcomes her whole body, “I miss… my mother”. Beacon doesn’t quite know what a mother is, but it can feel deep into its roots and into its past life that its Warrior is truly mourning. Deeper than itself can understand. It hesitates before speaking.

“The sorrow you hold is much greater than I can comprehend. Your fellow Warrior is also from where you come from, yes? ” the tree’s branches shimmer. Pyrrha nods.

“We knew each other before either of us came here,” she admits softly, and is able to speak a sentence through without a major hiccup or hitch in her throat.

“Then maybe you should confide with him- ”

“NO,” she insists loudly, and emphasizes it with a dramatic head shake, her red locks dancing everywhere, “I couldn’t possibly bother him. He has his own things to worry about”. She drops her head back into her hands, her shoulders shaking once again.

“Pyrrha ,” Beacon says sternly, using her actual name for the first time. It's enough to grab every fiber of the woman's attention. She sits up suddenly and looks around.

“You speak of helping your friends by sharing their burdens, yet you yourself do not allow your friends to do the same. How do you think they feel, not being able to help you? How would you feel if they didn’t let you help  them?” The tree’s voice softens in her head, “ I cannot help you, but I know that the one you call Jaune can. No one can carry their burdens alone, not even I ”.

Silence descends upon them, and Pyrrha merely sits on the edge of her bed, thinking over what her tree has said. Over and over the reprimand bounces around in her head, before a new voice comes to the forefront. One she hasn’t heard in so long the sound of it almost makes her start bawling again.

“Practice what you preach, Pyrrha,” it's Nora. With that, the rest of her argument to stay snaps in two. With the driving force of no longer wanting to be alone, she swipes the top blanket off her nest of a bed and jumps out of her home. Quicker than any thoughts can infiltrate her one-track mind, she shuffles soundlessly into the shack Jaune claimed as his own, and dives onto his bed next to him.

“Pyrrha?” he mummers sleepy, awoken by the humanoid shoving herself against him. She doesn’t say anything, just slips her arms around him and clings desperately. He returns the favor, but less fiercely.

A question still on his lips, he attempts to lift her face up, but stops when he feels her face wet with fresh tears. Question answered, he simply kisses the top of her head, and holds her tighter.

Words and discussions could be had, but for right now, they both found the support they craved.

Chapter Text

“She did what?! ” It was the next night, and Jaune was back to laying down everything that happened while Pyrrha had been dead.

“The girls were stuck in the control room, and Penny was fighting the ace ops alone. I was told she did what she felt like she had to do, and took down the electric door,” Jaune repeats the fact a little more in depth than he did just a moment before. Pyrrha’s face is a mix of concern and love.

“Brothers! Nora! I can’t believe she’d do something so foolhardy,” she rests her head in one hand, so that she can still look at her partner. Although she can tell from the lightness of Jaune’s tone that her former teammate is alright, she is still filled with an incessant worry over her old friend.

“She ended up being okay, but she has scars now from the electricity. When we heard from Ruby what happened, we ran to her room straight away. She was awake when we got there, and both Ren and I gave her a soft scolding after hearing her side of the story,” he rolls his eyes fondly, and chuckles awkwardly. Pyrrha watches him with interest, surprised by his light tone for the situation.

“By that point I seemed to be invisible to the two, and it didn’t take me long to figure out some things needed to be said between them… alone. So I left the room. Ren told me after coming back down that they confessed, but are not going to pursue a relationship just yet,”

“Took them long enough,” Pyrrha exclaims with exuberance. Jaune stops eating for a second and looks at her square in the face.

“You knew?”

“Jaune. It was written all over her body language,” her tone is serious, but her face holds a smile.

“I thought they were just really good friends at Beacon!” he stares dumbfounded into the fire.

“Sometimes being ‘really good friends’ can hold something more,” Pyrrha hints, looking at him shyly. Jaune blinks, the gears in his head visibly rotating, until finally they let out a solid ‘click ’.

“By the brothers… Blake and Yang…” he finally realizes, years too late. Silence settles between them. Quietly Pyrrha begins to chuckle, then laugh, before guffawing so hard she has to support herself from falling over.

“Don’t tell me that you picked up on that too!” he asks exasperatedly. He has to wait for her to slow down laughing before she answers.

“No… it wasn’t completely that… I just… your realization…” it takes her another minute before she can finish the thought, “While yes, I suspected back then. But from what you’ve been recounting to me, I had assumed their attraction to each other was obvious. Which is why I thought you had noticed it by now, I’m sorry”. She finishes with another few trailing giggles.

“Huh…” he goes back to staring into the fire for another minute, “Oh thats why Yang was so jarred that Blake fled after Beacon… and why Blake went so feral after Yang fell”. His eyes go wide, and he rests his forehead on his fingertips.

“Wait hold on, I’m still taking this in,” he admits. Pyrrha smirks amusedly.

“Take your time,”

“Anyone else seem to have feelings for someone else that I missed?” Jaune asks after a second. Pyrrha takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Well from what it sounds like, Ruby’s uncle Qrow, and the leader of the Ace ops might have had a thing, but I couldn’t be sure from your description alone. And at the time I had a suspicion that Sun and Neptune had a thing, but Sun was flirting lightly with Blake, and so I couldn’t be sure. But now that you’ve told me what Blake told all you of her adventure in Menagerie, I’m sure,” she hums. Jaune stares at her dumbfounded.

“How?” is all he can manage.

“I have uh… strong intuition for those types of things,” she answers easily after a second. He takes a moment to look at her with fresh eyes. He never dreamed he’d get to see a new side of her; a more romantic heartfelt side. His heart leaps in his chest, and he finds himself unable to look away from her spritely smile.

“And how many days has it been since the last time anyone has reported seeing the Jabberwalker?” Jaune asks for clarification from the front half of Juniper.

“Eight. It’s the longest I’ve ever noted it to be absent,” Pyrrha remarks over her partner's shoulder. She had been gone the last few days, doing a normal run of the Ever After- made quicker by Juniper’s help. While out she had realized the amount of sightings and attacks of the feared creature had stopped as of late. That had her worried. Despite how weirdly alike the Jabberwalker looked to the grimm, there was a startling difference. Not only could it speak, of course, but its reactions were oddly sentient. ‘ Perhaps it gained the knowledge to speak through living so many years? ’ she contemplated, but it still just didn’t feel right. It had a soul, and Pyrrha was just about sure of it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a threat.

“What do you think happened to it?” Jaune questions, not exactly pointed at Pyrrha.

“I don’t know,” she replies softly.

“Perhaps it’s dead, and we won’t have to worry about it anymore?” There is a bit of hope in his tone, like a possibility of having a weight off of his shoulders. She frowns softly, but doesn’t reply.

The Afteren side of her knows that could be bad; that the Jabberwalker is a balance to the Curious Cat. But the side of her that is from Remnant ponders how realistic that is. What would happen if one of them were to perish? She’s only met the Cat most Curious a couple of times, so she couldn’t place how yin and yang they were, but something about their codependency felt off to her.

As they cross over into the Jabberwalker’s acre, Pyrrha suddenly has a realization. She's in the Ever After. She's with the Rusted Knight. Her best friend is the storybook character. ‘ Why is this only hitting me now? If Alyx returned to Remnant, why didn’t he? …Isn’t his character supposed to be dead?! ’ The thought is so jolting, that she snaps back suddenly. Doing so alerts her partner.

“What's up, see something?” he asks, patting Juniper to slow her down. She shakes her head. When she speaks its soft.

“I just realized that you really are the storybook character from back home and I… I’m just really glad that you are alive,” she curls her arms back around him and gives him a slight squeeze. He freezes, then relaxes slightly.

“You’ll have to thank Juniper and the Paper Pleasers for that,” his voice has a hollow tinge to it.

“Tell me about what really happened. Tell me about Alyx?” she asks gently, sensing his hesitation, but curiosity getting the better of her. Juniper slows down but continues to head through the acre. Jaune don’t reply but stays silent for a moment too long.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, you don’t have to tell me,” she apologies. He lets out a little amused huff at hearing her say sorry again- ‘ Just like before ’.

“It wasn’t just Alyx who fell, but her brother Lewis as well,” he jumps right into the story, “I was still at the beach when I saw them streak through the sky. Alyx was cunning and manipulative. Lewis was observant and empathetic. I didn’t realize right away who they were, but as soon as I realized that Alyx was the Alyx from the story, and that I was the Rusted Knight, I knew I had to follow the path the book had laid out for me”. Pyrrha lets out a soft conflicted grunt, but says nothing.

“But no matter how I tried to keep them on the path, Alyx ended up leading us to other places-”

“Like Herb’s place,” she interjects. Jaune’s head shoots around to face her.

“How did you know?”

“Because I talked to him after you all had visited, and he was confounded by two Afterens who looked like me, but with ‘horrendous purposes’,” she copies his tone, and it elicits a smile from her partner, even if only briefly.

“I was the only one who knew about the storybook, so I was the only one who could steer us the right way. But I feel like the more I tried to help them home, the more Alyx resisted me. Until one night she poisoned me and the two of them ran away, taking that cat with them,” he pauses, letting the venom that was produced upon mentioning the Curious Cat, wash away. Pyrrha stays as silent as the acre around them. Still no sign of the Jabberwalker.

“I’m not sure what happened, but they must have got to the tree. I think Alyx traded her brother to it in order to get back. I wouldn’t put it past the cat to convince her to, and I wouldn’t put it past her to agree without much hesitation. Either way, she made it back and her brother didn’t. And I’m stuck here waiting for the others to fall while trying to find a way back home that won’t require a sacrifice,” he finishes his explanation as if reading a textbook. New questions swirl around in Pyrrha’s head, wondering which ones she should ask first.

“Hard to believe all this happened just acres from me, and I never knew it. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, I could’ve been there to help,” she keeps a hand on his shoulder, but sits back. Regret courses through her.

“It’s okay, it’s not like you knew who I was, or that I was here,” he puts a hand over hers in comfort. His tone indicates his complete forgiveness.

“That's only partially true…” she stutters, her heart dropping like a rock.

“How so?” he turns just far enough to look at her. She avoids his gaze and looks off into the distance, pain and another emotion covering her face. His interest is piqued even further.

“All Afterens after they arrive from the tree have a pull that guides them. Many know what their purpose is right away, but some have a harder time, especially if they are one of the few with that purpose,” she opts to look down, and notices they have stopped moving.

“I popped out of the tree in the Meadow acre, and the pull lead me down south, past the tree… when I eventually made it where the pull was guiding me, I was on the beach… and nothing else was there,” her voice fades out. There is a brief pause before Jaune effortlessly dismounts, wanting to meet her downturned eyes.

“I was at the beach,” it's not a revelation nor is he telling her. She only nods, hindsight as clear as day.

“I think… I think my purpose was to help you, so that you wouldn’t be alone here in the Ever After. I’m sorry,” her eyes close and her face contorts in pain. He doesn’t chuckle at her need to apologize this time.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Jaune says in a light tone, grabbing one of her hands and holding it. His words cause her to finally look at him again.

“I think I might’ve gone crazy trying to get Alyx through and keep to the story if you were there,” he lets out a soft laugh, trying to cheer her up. Inside he’s also upset that they didn’t run into each other there on the beach, so much so that he wants to interrogate her as to why she didn’t look around, or stay for a while, or try again any time later on. Just so they could’ve had more time together. Just so he didn’t have to face the storybook alone. But he stuffs the feeling down for her.

“That’s stupid,” she responds, slightly out of character.

“I know,” he says lamely, reaching up to wipe a single stray tear away from her cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning over and pulling him close. He meets the kiss easily. While it isn’t deep or passionate, it conveys all the feelings unable to be said, and that's enough.

They continued on through the trek through the Jabberwalker’s acre. Nothing seemed to stand out, and there was no sign of the creature in question. The silence was maddening, but neither of them found a need to break it.

It was the first time either of them had gotten a good look at the acre. Black sand and sky as dark as night made the place feel eerily liminal. Combine that with ruins of structures that looked oddly human made, it left an uneasy feeling in both of their stomachs.

As soon as Jaune catches sight of the bridge they used to arrive, he nudges Juniper into a stop. She lets out a whirr, and looks up at him in question. With a reassuring pat, he dismounts and lets out a sigh. Pyrrha follows suit, and stares off into the distance.

“I think it really might be gone,” there's a hopeful lilt in the man’s voice, as he gazes out around the surrounding area. Pyrrha removes her helmet to get a better look, even though the headpiece only obscures her vision slightly.

“It feels too odd to have it disappear so suddenly. Nothing was actively hunting it but us,” she comments.

“I agree, but what if it is? Think about all the extra time we would have on our hands! We could continue to look for a way back home with no distraction!” The hope in his voice is rising as he slides up next to his partner. The look in his eyes screams for her to agree with him, as if the moment she did, her simple belief would make the Jabberwalker disappear for good. She turns her body fully toward him, a soft apologetic smile on her face. She sees the moment his hope cracks, and the smile fades slowly.

“I-” Jaune starts to speak, but Pyrrha suddenly stands at alert, staring off behind him.

“There,” she nods her head in the direction of the bridge. Lo and behold, the Jabberwalker is almost limping onto the bridge they themselves had used earlier.

“It was hurt?” Pyrrha whispers the question, not even fully directed at her partner.

“No, look closer, it's… carrying something?” Jaune whispers back. They watch the creature hobble across the bridge, both of them startled and amazed at the unfamiliar behavior.

“Wait, I recognize that. Remember how I told you the old bridge to the sweet’s acre was crumbling, and the tree created some new Afterans to rebuild?” Pyrrha turns her head just enough to look at her partner, but still keeps an eye on the Jabberwalker.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t even turn her way to respond.

“That's a piece of the old bridge,” she finishes the thought, but a million questions spring up between them. ‘Is that what all the weird architecture around the acre is? What does the Jabberwalker want with it? How did he get the pieces without falling? ’ they can’t help but wonder.

The Jabberwalker has just a few feet left to hobble before the end of the bridge when Jaune suddenly springs into action.

“Pyrrha, let's go! If we spring on it, we will finally have the upper hand!” Without even waiting for a response, he's off, moving as fast as he can, dashing behind things to stay hidden.

“Wait!” she calls out after him, just loud enough that he can hear her, but hopefully the Jabberwalker can not. Despite her cry, he continues forward, the Jabberwalker none the wiser.

“Jaune!” She calls for him again, stalking forward after him. He simply turns and waves for her to follow. She does, but much more hesitantly. The very moment she reaches his side, he dashes forward, intent to attack obvious.

“Jaune.” She shouts again, no longer holding her volume back. The Jabberwalker startles violently. Jaune does not stop.

In a huff of annoyance, Pyrrha mounts Juniper gracefully, and urges her forward. In a flash the two are between their partner, and their enemy. As quickly as she mounted she dismounted, standing strong in front of Jaune. Juniper takes the chance to put a little distance between herself and the Jabberwalker. Despite the trust she has in her friends, she can not fight the innate fear of it that lives in all the Afterans.

The other three stand as still as statues.

“Pyrrha, what are you doing?” Jaune asks quietly, urgency dripping from his tone.

“We’ve never attacked them in their home. It’s not threatening or hurting anyone, let's leave it be,” she says calmly, despite having her back completely to the beast.

“What?” he breaks fighting stance just slightly, “It's a nuisance. We could be free of it”. She shakes her head slightly.

“Beyond that, it's a killer! It kills Afterens! Would you stand up for the Grimm like this?” he asks incredulously, his voice starts to rise. She flinches, and ponders his words for a second. The whole while the Jabber walker holds the piece of structure in one arm, tilting its head back and forth curiously.

“The Jabberwalker isn’t a Grimm. It has a soul. We respect its space, it respects ours,” she says firmly after a moment. Jaune stares back at her, processing her words.

“Are you standing up for it because it's a part of your so-called purpose here?” Despite the malicious word choice, his voice is purely curious, “you know you aren’t Afteren, right?”

As soon as the question leaves his mouth, he sees the shift in her eyes. Hurt, sorrow, regret, and anger- all emotions he's seen cross her green eyes before, but only when talking about Cinder, the maiden powers, or anything directly related to her death. The man suddenly feels the need to backtrack.

“I came from the tree,” she states, emotionless.

“But that doesn’t make you Afteren! You’re Pyrrha! My teammate and friend! You're a huntress, and you're just going to let a threat like that go?” he gestures over to the Jabberwalker. The creature itself having started to back away slowly, completely unsure and baffled by the scene in front of him.

“Yelling . Anger . Confusion.” It repeats softly over and over. The two warriors are so distracted they don't even notice.

“A huntress doesn’t kill things with souls,” her tone is hurt but strong, and she finally turns toward the Jabberwalker. It freezes, having been caught in its escape plans. Though the creature doesn’t have eyes, they stare at each other for a moment.

“Go, we will leave you be here,” she says softly, contrasting the look in her eyes and her body language. Seemingly having the permission it needed, the Jabberwalker moves as fast as it can with the structure in its arm, further into its territory.

“Confusion . Thankful . Fix.” they hear echo around them as it hobbles away. After a moment of quiet, the sound of sand shifting under feet reaches Pyrrha’s ears. She hears a soft sigh behind her.

“Pyrrha, I’m sorry, I just don’t understand…” Jaune starts, his voice hesitant.

“Stop.” she says simply.

“But we could’ve-!” he starts, his voice easily inching up in volume once again.

“Just let me follow my own path,” she interjects.

“It has a soul- but still, it takes lives !” He's speaking over her now.

“Stop!” she shouts, turning and putting her hands up for emphasis. The next thing either of them know, Jaune is back about 20 feet with his back on the ground.

All the tension, all the anger and all the yelling disappears in a pin drop. In the silence, the two stare at each other, not moving even a single muscle. A memory flashes through both their consciousness. One back at Beacon, when a similar lash out from her had sent him crashing into a wall. Instead of dwelling on the negative emotions of that moment, and of the one they just experienced prior, both sets of eyes gradually begin to twinkle in realization.

“Your semblance,” Jaune exhales in excitement, “Its back”.

Chapter Text

“How long are you going to keep doing that?” Jaune asks, pure amusement shining through his voice. He and the Paper Pleasers watch from the sidelines as Pyrrha tosses Akouo like a frisbee. She had fetched it from Beacon as soon as they had returned, itching to get a feel for a part of herself once again.

The Pleasers swivel their little star shaped bodies back and forth as they watch the shield fly from her hand, only to be called back moments later, landing effortlessly in her palm. They let out various sounds of amazement and surprise each time.

“As long as it takes for me to get comfortable with it again," she answers finally, “and as long as they get a kick out of it”. She doesn’t need to motion who ‘they’ are. The large gathering of amazed Afterens is enough information for that.

Jaune just smiles and chuckles fondly. Despite their strange argument over the Jabberwalker, and the rough realization of himself being the Rusted Knight from the storybook, Pyrrha seemed to be in a much better mood than earlier in the day. He couldn’t blame her. After he himself discovered his own semblance, he spent some time testing its limits and what it could do. And he wasn’t the one who lost it for half of their lifetime.

“Jaune,” she suddenly stops the rhythmic pattern, holding the slightly disproportionate Akouo close to her chest.

“What’s up?” he perks up slightly at his name.

“The first time I was in the Alloy acre I felt like something was missing. I remember trying to call the metal leaves that cover the acre to me, but not knowing why. Obviously it makes sense now but…” she rushes the last bit, but finding no more words left she flicks her shield out once again.

“You want to go back, now that your semblance is back,” Jaune finishes easily after a second. She simply nods in response.

“Then you should go, I won’t stop you,” he says encouragingly.

“I want you to come with,” her sentence almost overlaps with the end of his. There is a moment of pause, before pained regret dances across the man’s face.

“Pyr, you know I can’t leave the Paper Pleasers very long,” his tone and volume drops slowly. He starts to mosey forward toward her, afraid to upset her again today. ‘I wish I had some chocolate I could appease her with ’- crosses his mind briefly. He wonders where it came from until he connects it to all those times when his sisters would be on their period. ‘It’d be rude of me to ask if she's on her period, but it makes me wonder. Wait… does she even still get them here in the Ever After? ’ All these thoughts happen so lighting fast in the man's mind that he almost forgets the situation at hand.

“Can’t you be gone for a little while? I’m sure they would be fine,” she matches the softness of his apologetic tone. With another flick she tosses Akouo out again, before turning toward him.

“I have to make sure they are safe, I have to,” it's almost pleading. His response gives a small tug of annoyance in Pyrrha’s mind, ‘why though? If they reincarnate they will just come back? Perhaps he’s just more paranoid about the Jabberwalker coming here because we are so close to its acre’. She gives him the benefit of the doubt and tucks the irritation away.

“I’m sure if Juniper takes us we can be there and back in no time, a day and a half trip, tops,” she attempts to convince him.

“Best I can be away for is half a day, you know that,” he stays remarkably stubborn, but the apologetic look on his face grounds the two. He reaches up to hold her cheek lightly in his hand, and she presses into it.

“You can bring back some of the leaves and show me, okay?” he whispers. She responds with a small sad sigh.

“I thought it would be a good little trip for us, like a vacation,”

“I know,”

“I wanted to show you more of the Ever After that I’ve grown to love,”

“I know,”

“I wanted to introduce you to the Armorsmith. He's a dragon,”

“I kn- …that I didn’t know,” he admits. This gets a chuckle out of her. By the time it subsides they are both smiling sadly at once another. It doesn’t take long for a rising commotion to reach both of their ears.

Curious, both of them turn their attention to a gathering of Paper Pleasers, starting to form some kind of pyramid on top of one another in order to get high enough to touch Akouo, whom Pyrrha had still hovering in the air mid frisbee throw. The top one succeeds in grabbing it, but the others below tumble the short distance to the ground. With an affectionate chuckle from the two, they both head off to help the ditzy little stars.

Jaune helps the ones who had fallen over, and Pyrrha brings Akouo down so she could show them up close and personal what she was doing. The Pleasers are amazed, and the two warriors have to explain that their kind almost always had some kind of power- a manifestation of who they were inside- and that it wasn’t a magical sentient shield.

The curious Paper Pleasers seemed content with their odd description, and soon found themselves throwing random objects and attempting to call them back with willpower alone. The fascination and attempts given were enough to elicit warm, fond smiles from the aging warriors. The two watched like tired, but amused, parents.

After a while of their antics, Pyrrha decided it was time to put Akouo away again, and made the short trip back to Beacon.

Jaune met her at the base of the tree as she hopped back out of its branches. He opens his mouth to encourage her to go without him once again, but she beats him to it.

“I wish there was a faster kind of transportation,” she muses sadly, putting her hands on her hips and staring off into the distance. He copies her stance beside her.

“It's definitely a whole different world from our own, huh?”

“I miss those spring car rides where it was just warm enough to drive with the windows down, the long scenic cross country train rides, and the speed of airships,” she sighs.

“I think I’ll pass on the airships, but overall I agree,” he makes a small face of distaste which she misses entirely.

“Still dealing with motion sickness, vomit boy?” Despite the tease, her voice drips adoration for the man beside her.

“Actually, now it’d be vomit man,” he corrects. She lets out a small sigh of amusement, before leaning toward him to put her head on his shoulder. He quickly responds by snaking his arm around her waist.

“If I could get there and back quickly, I would go with you in a heartbeat,” Jaune promises. There is a beat before a familiar voice drifts directly into their heads.

'Perhaps I could be of assistance…' Beacon offers, a passing thought coming to the forefront of the willows mind may be the answer the two were looking for.

Juniper pranced along through the Ever After, happy to be spending time with their second favorite friend of all time. It wasn’t the first time she and Pyrrha went out alone, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. As much as she loved the one called Jaune, she also felt a connection with this one as well. Maybe it was because this one didn’t have the threat of getting sick when she went too fast, or maybe it was because her two friends shared a special bond (that she herself felt some kind of familiarity with). Either way, Juniper didn’t care. She was happy to be of help, and happy to spend time with her friends.

Pyrrha’s mind, on the other hand, was lost in a loop of thought. Beacon had offered a potential solution, and all of them were banking on the idea to work.

‘I am the warrior’s tree’ it had said, ‘I teleport when the warrior needs me. For years it has brought me to you, the one called Pyrrha. But now there are technically two warriors…’

“Are you saying I could summon you? And how would that help us?” Jaune had asked.

‘If one of you was with me, and the other was far away and summoned me, I might be able to teleport the both of us,’ Beacon explained.

It was this conversation that bounced around in her head. It didn’t take long to decide for Jaune to stay back, and Pyrrha would go with Juniper to the Alloy acre. Once there, she would summon Beacon, and if all went well, Jaune would be in its branches. Then afterwards, he would take Juniper back, and Pyrrha would make her own way back on foot, just like she had done all those years previous.

The two take a short break at the edge of the farming acre, and as Juniper lays down for a minute of rest, Pyrrha realizes it's the first time she's been able to be alone with her thoughts since learning of all that befell her friends since she's been gone. The namesakes of both Juniper and Beacon no longer evade her: ‘ We both named our tethers after something that reminded us of home ,’ it dawns on her. She sits down next to Juniper and looks at her thoughtfully. Her friend lets out a soft whirr of curiosity and lays her head on the woman’s legs, looking up at her with big soft eyes.

“Beacon was the first place where I could still be the champion fighter and not be an outcast, and our team were the first people in Jaune’s life who supported him to be the person he wanted to be, without judgment. On the other hand, my team were the ones who didn’t treat me any differently for my fame, and Beacon was the place where Jaune made his irreplaceable friends,” Pyrrha tells Juniper, while giving her a good scratch on the neck.

“I guess it makes sense now why we’ve gotten along as if we’ve known each other our whole life, and why Beacon says that they should respond to Jaune’s summons,” she tells her. Juniper bops her nose against the woman's face, and it seems to Pyrrha as if she's saying ‘ I understand ’.

With a kiss to her nose and a kind smile, she rises and gestures for them to keep moving. Her companion gracefully rights herself, and Pyrrha swiftly mounts.

“Since you are named after our team, would you like to hear about them?” Pyrrha asks. Juniper lets out a happy chirp in response.

“Our other two teammates are Ren and Nora. Ren can be pretty quiet, but Nora is one of the most excitable people I’ve ever met. They’ve been together forever-”

The moment the two crossed over the bridge into the Alloy acre, Pyrrha was already abuzz with excitement and nervousness. She wanted to try and call Beacon right away and she desperately wanted to reach out to the leaves swaying in the wind, but she held back. They had agreed they wanted to be closer to the town when she called, and she didn’t want to try reaching for the leaves without him.

Juniper slowed from a run to a trot, looking and sniffing around curiously.

“You’ve never been out this far,”

Whirr.

“What do you think of it?”

Click, whirr, chitter.

“Don’t worry, Jaune should join us soon enough,” She pats her friend's side. Juniper’s ears pop up, and she bobs her head slightly. Seemingly excited, she spends less time investigating the new acre, and more time heading farther in. With a slight exhale of amusement, Pyrrha gently guides her toward the town.

The smoke casually rising from the forges in the distance guides them, and as soon as the smell of furnaces reaches her nose, she knows its time. With a simple pat, Juniper slows to a stop, and Pyrrha dismounts.

“Beacon,” she murmurs. The wind shifts slightly, and she holds her breath, not daring to turn around.

“Hey, Beacon? Maybe a little warning next time? Please? I… blehh ,” Jaune’s voice as he attempts to hold his motion sickness at bay puts her at ease. It worked.

“How are you holding up there, vomit man?” Pyrrha turns around to the beautiful sight of Beacon in all its glory surrounded by the glistening trees of the Alloy acre.

“Oh, har har,” Jaune retorts, jumping gingerly from the branches, “Hi Juniper, miss me that much?”. The jackalope butts her head against him in greeting.

“I’m so glad that worked,” Pyrrha hums softly as she approaches her friends.

‘I knew I would come to you, the question was would Jaune still be with me when I arrived ,’ Beacon interjects.

“Of course, and it looks like you were right,” Pyrrha answers.

“Would this prove that if I were to call for you, you’d appear, as well?” Jaune asks.

‘That remains to be seen ,’ Beacon responds.

“Of course,” he shrugs lightly, then turns to his partner. They stare at each other for a minute. The plan worked. Now what?

“Have you tried, um,” he gestures to the trees. Pyrrha shakes her head, but stays still. He watches her for a moment, easily picking up on her excitement being overshadowed by nervousness. It’s all right there in her bright green eyes, clear as day.

“Hey, here, start with something small,” he steps away, and picks a single silver colored leaf from a nearby tree. He walks back, and stands an arms width away, holding it out between them.

“Just focus on the one,” he encourages. Pyrrha blinks for a second, locks eyes with him, then nods softly. With a deep breath, she focuses on the leaf between them. The moment she activates her semblance, the leaf stiffens as if it's a thick sheet of metal. Jaune lets go of it as she urges it around them. It moves stiffly, like she's controlling her shield.

Jaune watches the leaf move with excitement, but all the energy dissipates when he sees the look on her face.

“What's wrong?” he asks curiously. She drops the leaf.

“It doesn’t move right. I thought it would still move like a leaf, but as soon as I grabbed it with my semblance, it lost all its natural feel to it,” she stands with her hands on her hips, as if deep in thought, but her eyes betray her disappointment. He takes the moment to think. She was so excited to be here, it would be a waste if she let this disappointment distract her. ‘ Think, think, think… I got it! ’ It may have been years since then, but not all of what he learned in school has been forgotten.

“I got it!” he exclaims out loud. Pyrrha perks up in question to his outburst.

“I bet it moved that way because that’s how you have treated everything else you’ve moved with your semblance. I bet you have to think of it as something different,” Pyrrha blinks and he rushes to explain, “See, remember the magnetic force field, and how it's technically spherical?”

“Of course. As soon as I unlocked my semblance I burned everything I could about magnetism into my brain so I’d never forget it,”

“Right! So instead of thinking of that point of rotation from around you, think of it from multiple points. You are the center, but the leaf has a center too, and so does the ground,” he points at each one in emphasis. Pyrrha’s eyes start to light up in understanding.

“I should pretend that everything has its own magnetic field, even if it doesn't. If I follow that logic and guess how everything would get affected, and in turn affect…” her voice gets stronger as her excitement grows.

“It might flow more naturally!” he finishes for her. Without any hesitation this time she turns back toward the leaf on the ground.

She moves it slowly at first, testing their theory to the best of her ability. It takes her a few minutes, but in seemingly no time at all she has the leaf moving as if dancing in the wind.

Juniper chitters in excitement, and Jaune lets out a cry of victory. Spurred on by their excitement, and her own, she makes a pull toward the other leaves scattered on the ground around them. A fair amount heeds her call, and it takes much of her concentration to keep them moving at once.

Pyrrha never expected to learn anything new about her own semblance. She remembers all those times back home, messing around with what she could or couldn’t do- it was more of what she could and couldn't control, not so much this .

‘Perhaps… Perhaps there’s something more I could do with my semblance? Not just limited to combat but… something… more ’ Pyrrha’s mind was exploding with thoughts of what could be possible. All thanks to such a simple little leaf and the mind of her partner.

Jaune knew she could do it. He’d seen her do so many amazing things before, that this wasn’t all that amazing. And yet, it was. He watched with his mouth slightly agape as the trickle of leaves wove in between and around them. They twisted through Beacon’s branches, cascaded down upon Juniper, and danced around himself. It was almost magical the way they glittered in the light as they seemed to bounce around joyfully. It was as if the clump of leaves was alive, with a personality all their own.

As the leaves seem to take their attention to Juniper, and the two prance and chase one another, Jaune turns his gaze towards his partner. Her face is taut in a way that shows complete concentration, her eyes are alight, and her body relaxed with her arms out, palms forward. She looks beautiful, radiant even, standing there. One second he’s standing there in the Ever After, watching her, the next he’s remembering a moment of a day gone by.

He was back at Beacon. Their team was working together on a project, and Pyrrha stood back for a minute to think something out. It was the same look on her face, but in the memory she had her hand on her chin, her eyes dancing back and forth as she was deep in thought. This was at least a few months before the school dance. Before he finally put together her feelings toward him, and way before he ever pieced together his own.

He had thought she looked pretty then, but it was never more than a passing thought. A simple and obvious fact that never needed addressing. But it seemed he was addressing it now. That his feelings were never what the movies made it seem like. It wasn’t a roaring flame or innate desire, but a constant universal truth: He loved her.

It didn’t matter what she looked like, or how old they got, he was always going to find her beautiful, inside and out. It was such a profound thought to settle over the man, but yet it settled so quickly and so quietly.

Jaune doesn’t realize when he takes the first step, but he’s back in the present by the time he’s wrapping his arms around his partner from behind. She jumps lightly in surprise.

“Everything okay?” she asks as he melts into her, nestling his face in the hair on her shoulder.

“I love you,” he mutters. Pyrrha short circuits; ‘sure, we’ve said those words to each other before but this… this feels… different. ’ She struggles to find any words to say, but instead opts to just wrap her own arms around his in recognition.

“Jaune, meet The Armorsmith. Armorsmith, this is the Rusted Knight, or as I call him, Jaune,” Pyrrha introduces. Jaune can’t hold back his shock even if he tried. Standing in front of him was an honest to goodness dragon.

Most of the Armorsmith couldn't even be seen from the front of his shop. Just his front torso, his arms, and his head. Jaune could almost make out the dragon's wings in the back, but he wasn’t sure. His scales were iridescent black, and his claws were short yet sharp. His teeth that were sticking out from his smile were large, but didn’t have as deadly a look as he expected. The dragon’s green eyes sparkled with laughter. He was laughing. Laughing at him!

“Why so surprised at my appearance, Warrior Knight?” The Armorsmith’s laugh was deep and powerful and warm.

“You… You are a dragon,” Jaune stutters, feeling stupid the second after saying so.

“That is what Warrior called me as well, though I initially did not know what the word meant. She explained that is what my form is called. How she knows so, neither of us are aware. What I do know is this form is apt for keeping the hottest forges running. …Though I must say,” he looks the two humans over scrutinizingly, “your forms on the other hand look rather mobile. Despite your fragile look, it might be easier to make your way around this shop. I have been having some trouble with it of late. Perhaps on my next reincarnation…”.

“Don’t…” Jaune starts, unwilling to be the reason another being goes to the tree- despite the fact that this one is an Afteren tried and true. Pyrrha cuts in as he hesitates.

“Don’t form exactly like us. I’ve seen your work, Armorsmith, and it’s wonderful. If you find yourself back at the tree anytime soon, perhaps just change your size so you aren’t so large?” Pyrrha offers the idea. The Armorsmith seems to think for a moment, then breaths out a stream of smoke from his nose.

“That sounds more reasonable. I met some of the Red King’s- I mean- Red Prince’s guards the other day, and they were spindly little things, despite walking like the two of you. Perhaps this form is best, just sized accordingly. Of course, you didn’t come here to chat with me about my next reincarnated form. What can I do for you?” the dragon grumbles politely.

“Actually I just came by to say hi. I wanted to introduce Jaune to you. I’ve been wanting to show him more of the Ever After, and this is one of the first places I’ve decided to bring him,” Pyrrha explains.

“Ah, well it is a pleasure to meet you, Rusted Warrior,” the Armorsmith closes his eyes, and drops his head low in greeting, “I hope you enjoy your visit to the Alloy acre. Will you visit the shops?”

“We plan on doing that next,” Pyrrha answers.

“It was a pleasure meeting you too, Armorsmith… sir,” Jaune tags the formality at the end awkwardly, and gives the dragon an odd little bow in response. The Armorsmith lets out an amused huff that sends warm air washing over the two of them.

“See you later, Armorsmith,” Pyrrha grabs Jaune’s hand to lead him away, while waving goodbye.

“Until next time, be it this lifetime or the next. Goodbye Warrior, Rusted Knight,” the Armorsmith nods to them again, his deep warm voice reverberating behind them.

“Is that… the normal farewell around here?” Jaune can’t help but ask.

“In this life or the next? I’ve only heard it a few times. It’s usually said to those you’ve felt have left a deep mark on who you are, so much so that you’d carry it with you to your next life. They don’t have families or any kind of deep bond like that here. The saying is indicating the two of you are as close as you can get to it,” Pyrrha explains, as they meander through town, hand in hand.

“Did our human forms really make that big of an impression on him?”

“Maybe, but I know I did. I’ve been his main customer of armor, after all,”

“What?”

“Jaune, I’ve been the only one who has been brave enough to stand against the Jabberwalker. There isn’t any other reason for others to have armor. Even the Red King’s guards don’t wear armor,”

“But how does he make a living if you are his only customer?” Jaune questions incredulously.

“Because Afterens don’t have to make a living… They just live,” Pyrrha motions toward the shops as they enter the marketplace, “Everyone has a purpose, and they trade either to complete that purpose, to help others' purpose, or to exchange a little joy. The Armorsmith appeared shortly before I did, and I am his only customer. However he helps all the other shops keep their forges running hot and strong. I assume when I am no longer in the Ever After, he will pass through the tree, and come out as someone new. Perhaps someone completely new, or perhaps a biped dragon just our size, here to keep the fires of the Alloy acre alive”. They meander slowly as Pyrrha talks.

“It makes sense, but it just seems so different from home that I guess I just… forget. And how do we know that those who go to the tree reincarnate? What if they go in, die, and a new soul comes out?”

“We trust. Sometimes it can be uncanny when one leaves and another comes back looking quite the same. Most of the time no one remembers their past life, but sometimes on occasion, the soul finds it vital to remember, and so it does. Take Beacon for example,” Pyrrha hums.

“What about them?”

“When I first met them, they were called the Tree of Mourning. After a while they wanted to dedicate themselves to me, and returned to the tree, and were reborn as the Warrior’s tree. They looked exactly the same, sounded the same, and remembered everything, but simply had a new purpose,”

“Really?” Jaune stops in his tracks, and Pyrrha quickly follows. The look on his face is conflicted.

“Yes. Quite different from Remnant, hmm?” she lets out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” he mutters. The two of them continue their walk in relative quiet, pausing every once and a while to point out some curious odd or end an Afteren made.

Chapter Text

“Warrior! Warrior!” A familiar voice calls to Pyrrha. The woman in question lifts her head from an interestingly detailed whatsit at the call of her purpose. Looking around, it only takes her a second to see who it was. Waving in the distance is a being twice her height, but still the same shade of green as they were all that time ago.

She waves back, then nudges Jaune to follow. The man does so instinctively, but quickly finds himself in awe when they stop in front of a few impossibly tall beings made purely of gemstone.

“Warrior, it is good to see you again!” the green golem greets.

“Hello again Jade, how are you? You seemed to have grown an inch or two since the last time I visited,” Pyrrha expresses warmly.

“I have!” they chirp.

“Jade has gotten quite skilled at carving as of late,” the Onyx golem standing nearby compliments.

“Congratulations Jade! Hello Onyx, Bismuth,” Pyrrha nods to the two other Earth Exchangers. They both nod back, familiar smiles on both of their faces.

“Everyone, this is Jaune- err, another Warrior like me. He goes by the Rusted Knight,” Pyrrha introduces, “Jaune, this is Onyx, Bismuth, and Jade. They are a few of the Enormous Earth Exchangers from an acre over”. Jaune blinks back the surprise that was still plastered on his face upon seeing not only their size, but the delicate markings on their body, as well as how they are seemingly able to talk and move their facial features despite being… well… gemstones.

“I remember you telling me about the Earth Exchangers. You saved one on your first run in with the Jabberwalker,” Jaune turns to his companion for confirmation.

“That was me!” the green one exclaims, “I still can’t thank you enough for saving me”.

“Of course Jade, it's what I do. I hope the Jabberwalker hasn’t been giving you all trouble lately?” Pyrrha tilts her head.

“No, it's been surprisingly quiet of late. I would assume that would be your doing?” Bismuth finally speaks, nodding to the two warriors in front of them. This Earth Exchanger is more angular than the other two, and has a rainbow iridescence to them- a stark contrast to Onyx on Jade's other side.

“Indeed, but we can’t take all the credit. It’s been preoccupied by the broken bridge in the Cake Acre,” Pyrrha explains humbly. As she continues to talk pleasantries with the Earth Exchangers, the delicately tumbled and carved stones on their table finally catch Jaune’s attention. The level of detail is something he would expect of an old master craftsman back on Remnant, not from exceptionally large talking gemstones themselves. The man is left amazed more than anything. He picks some up to really look them over, before one at the edge of the table catches his eye. It's one of the few uncarved ones, probably set aside for them to work on during down time while at the market. So it isn’t the design that catches his eye, but the color.

It's a deep and brilliant red with flecks of gold. It's a good size, ovaloid, and almost flat enough to remind him of the stones he used to skip with his family across the lake while camping. He holds it up to his partner.

“It's lovely,” she smiles, her attention drawn away from the current conversation.

“It reminds me of you,” he admits. Her smile turns shy for a second, before her eyes seem to gloss over, lost in thought. He puts the gem back on the table, about to ask if she is all right. But before he can even open his mouth, she's reaching into a small pocket on her person. One that he recognizes as a place she will keep small trinkets so she doesn't lose them. She pulls out something, and holds it out for him to see.

It's a piece of amber, bigger than the stone he just held, and more round too. He picks it up gingerly, and studies it for a second, before looking at her questioningly.

“The first time I was passing through the Quarry Acre, I saw many things that tugged at my brain. Now I know them to be things reminiscent of Remnant. This was the only one I picked up and kept… I think because it reminded me of you,” she explains softly, taking the gem back from him. Now safely back in her hands, she looks back up to meet his eyes. They hold the same tenderness they showed earlier in the day after he told her he loved her.

Her chest swells with warmth, and still finding no words to reply with, she opts for a quick kiss, before turning back to some very confused Afterens.

“Jade, how long would it take you to polish this for me?” Pyrrha asks, holding out the amber piece. The green Exchanger snaps out of their stupor and looks the gem over.

“Oh, easy, that would take me an hour at most!” they exclaim.

“Perfect, I’ll leave it to you then. We will be back in an hour,”

About an hour later, Jaune and Pyrrha find themselves staring at a piece of Afteren art, doing their best to figure out what it could be. The statue, made of metal, was warped in such a way that it looked like a stretched out rabbit. Or a warped shoe. Or, as Jaune insisted, the play set from the park from his childhood.

It was an ongoing debate when Pyrrha’s stomach growled, putting in its own input. Apparently, it looked enough like spaghetti that her hunger kicked in.

“I miss carbs,” Pyrrha sighed, looking at the statue longingly.

“Hmm?” Jaune asks, mind processing how the conversation went from the statue to food.

“Spaghetti,” Is all the woman says in response. He looks back and forth between the two before finally putting it together.

“Ah, yes that part does look like pasta... Are we hungry?” Jaune turns his full attention to his redheaded lady.

“Jade did say that the amber would be done in an hour, and it looks to be that time. We should swing by on our way back,” Pyrrha entwines her fingers in his, and takes a step in that direction. Her stomach takes that moment to let out another annoyed yowl, and a slight blush forms on her cheeks.

“I have a better idea,” he pulls lightly at her hand to turn her around to face him, “why don’t you swing by the Earth Exchangers, and I’ll head back to Beacon and Juniper and work on getting the food ready. That way by the time you’ll get back we can eat”. The offer and the knowing smile on his face is almost too much for her.

“That seems like a wonderful plan, no wonder Ozpin made you team leader,” she places her free hand on his cheek, “and I’ve agreed with his assessment every day since”.

“I… I couldn’t have done it without you,” he stutters.

“But you did! You did for so long! Yet all that time, you weren’t alone. The rest of our team supported you, and so did team rwby. No matter how bad you may think you mess up,” her thumb rubs his cheekbone lazily. The man simply blinks, overwhelmed by the sudden support and by such a warm and loving gesture.

“All this because I offered to go straight back and get food started?” he chuckles halfheartedly, but the soft smirk plastered on his face is genuine.

“My mother always used to say that the key to anyone’s heart is through their stomach,” she explains with laughter in her voice. His smile widens, and he turns his head just enough to kiss the inside of her hand. Her palm is filled with soft pinpricks that run steadily up her arm. It's an odd feeling… one that she finds she doesn’t hate. Not in the least.

“So all I have to do is continue to feed you amazing food, hmm?” Jaune’s smile turns mischievous.

“Jaune,” all she says is his name, but the exasperated and playful tone is enough of an indicator of all that she does not say. Instead she gently guides his head down toward her, and they bonk foreheads.

“I’ll meet you back at Beacon,” she says before planting a kiss on his temple, and turning back around to disappear into the market.

He watches her go, hand and cheek both still warm from her touch. He wishes for a second that he could make something, anything that would be reminiscent of food from Remnant. But things here are just too different. It seemed that it would be a miracle that he just couldn’t perform.

As soon as Pyrrha got to the stall where the Earth Exchangers were, she knew she wasn’t just there to pick up the amber. After a quick conversation, and a simple request, she paid for the service with a few trinkets, and was on her way again. It was hard not to stop and talk to many of the Afterens, most of them either wanting to show her their wares or ask her questions. But she kept on track thanks to her unsatiated hunger, and the thought of everyone waiting for her outside of town.

The amber and its friend in her little pocket burned in her mind. When her mother always said ‘ The way to anyone’s heart is through their stomach ’ her father would always follow it up with ‘ and actions speak louder than words ’. Which always seemed to fit perfectly for each of her parents. Her mother would always have some kind of food on hand for anyone, and her father would always go out of his way to do small and thoughtful gestures.

As she gets to the edge of the town, she ponders who she took after more.

“Ah, you’re back! Just in time,” Jaune welcomes from alongside a steady campfire. Juniper sits alongside him, but rises to greet her.

“Hello again Juniper, did you enjoy your rest?” the woman asks, scratching the jackalope's neck. Juniper lets out a few chirps in response, and rubs her face against her.

“Oh, that smells amazing,” Pyrrha sighs, getting distracted by her hunger again. Giving Juniper a few light pats, she turns and approaches the campfire, where a pot of heated meat and mushroom stew resides.

“Better than spaghetti?” Jaune asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“No… oh I miss Remnant food…” she bemoans, collapsing only slightly dramatically down next to him on the ground.

“Sorry, I can’t do much about that either,” he looks at her sadly, “what I wouldn’t do for a solid stack of pancakes”.

“Oh no, pancakes… now I’m going to start craving those too… but at least if we were back home I wouldn’t get many of those anyway,” she sighs.

“Because of Nora?”

“Because of Nora,” there's a short pause of silence before they both begin to laugh. As it dies, there’s a bit of a sour note to the air. Neither of them want to remark on it, but it's there. That achy hollow feeling for their teammates, their friends. Both of them do their best to push the cloud away from their heads, and dig into their meal.

They all sit in silence as they eat, both of them actually very hungry from the few hours of meandering. It's a comfortable silence to be sure, but it's enough to leave Pyrrha reflecting.

How different this silence is in comparison to the silence of the eternal abyss. From the abyss to the blacksmith’s, to the blacksmith's to the  meadow acre during sunset of her first night, and then all that time in between then and now. Some of it was met with literal silence, and others were met with a slow and soft feeling of embracing the simplicity of the moment as it happens. This was one of those moments. It was so plain and everyday; just eating a meal. Yet it was filled with so much warmth.

“I can take care of the food if you want to put the fire out?” Jaune’s voice shakes her out of her thoughts, and as she looks over he’s already holding out his hand for her empty bowl. She nods, and hands it over, before doing their normal fire safety routine and putting out the campfire. She finishes before he does, and pulls the gemstones out of her pocket, looking them over once again.

As Jaune finishes packing the rest of the food and supplies back into Pyrrha’s little hut in Beacon’s branches to be transported home, she debates giving them now or once she returns to the Origami acre. The moment he’s back on the ground, her mind is made up.

“Jaune,”

“What's up?” he asks brightly, already preparing to leave.

“Come here,” he gives her a puzzled look, but does anyway, “now close your eyes”. The puzzlement turns to light suspicion, but after a second of staring off at each other, he does what she asks. She fumbles a second, separating the strings of the two even though she could have sworn they were detangled a second ago. But as soon as the two are free of each other, she carefully slides his necklace over his head. As soon as the gemstone taps against his armor, his eyes fly open and he looks down.

It's the deep red with gold flecked gemstone from earlier in the day, but now with a little hole at the top for the string. As he rubs his finger over it, he feels a little bit of carving into it. It’s hard to see it at first, but looking for it specifically he finds it easily. Its two little hearts, side by side. So small in comparison to their canvas, but so meaningful. After processing the gift, his head shoots up to look at her. She's wearing one too.

It's the piece of amber she picked up all those years ago, now shining and with the same two carved hearts. She looks at her own gently, before matching his gaze. With a soft and playful smile she clinks the two gems against one another. As they look between each other, the tone shifts from playful and light to soft yet hesitant. There are words to be spoken, but have yet to be found between the two. Despite the already short distance between them, it seems to shrink all on its own, and their arms find their own way around one another.

“I promise…” Pyrrha pauses as she tries and finds the right words, “I promise to never give up on you. To always try to be the best partner and friend you could ask for”. She slides her right hand over his armor till it’s over where his heart would be.

“And I promise in any argument, that I will try to remember it's us against the issue, not you against me. We are in this together, and I know a lot of crazy stuff has happened in the past, and being here is beyond realistic, but we are here together. So even if we have to live the rest of our lives here, I’ll take being here with you over any kind of life I could've lived in Remnant that you wouldn’t have been part of,”

“How do- how do you think I felt… after you-” Jaune stutters his words.

“Hey,” she stops him gently “I’m here now. We are here together. I won’t leave you like that again for a long, long time. I swear it”.

“Right,” he takes a shaky breath to get his rising emotions under a little control. The look they share between them is riddled in tenderness. With all the care in the world, he reaches up and tucks some of her stray hair behind her ear, before mirroring her and placing his hand over her heart.

“And I promise that I won’t let you down again. Whatever you are struggling with, or forcing yourself to carry on your own, I promise to carry it too. You will never have to do anything you don’t feel right about doing Ever. Again. I swear it. I want to be the partner that you deserve, not the one you had at Beacon,”

“Jaune-” she wants to berate him for thinking so lowly of himself back then when he really was a great partner all things considered…

“And above all, I promise to always see you as you are; the most beautiful woman with a heart too big to comprehend, who deserves more than even the god brothers themselves could offer,” there is such a softness and honesty to his voice that Pyrrha knows he means every word with every fiber of his heart.

“Jaune, I love you, and will love you from this lifetime to the next, and the next, and the next. Forever,”

“Like something… destined?”

“No,” she shakes her head definitively, “because I will always choose to”.

It was a much longer journey by far to pass by the Meadow acre on the way back than it was to take the route that would have her pass through the Garden acre, and yet Pyrrha found herself contemplating which way to go. It had been a while since she had seen Steadfast and Plum, but it had also been quite some time since she had stopped by Herb, despite now practically living one acre over. Thinking on it for a bit, she decided that the choice didn’t reside so much on how long the journey or whom she hadn’t seen in a while, but more of which two acres she was not in the mood to travel through.

The long way around included the Stinky Cheese acre. A dream for the Hunter Mice to be sure, but in all her years here in the Ever After, Pyrrha had still not gotten a nose for it, and was beginning to think she never would.

If she took the shorter way she would have to go through the Blob acre. An acre quite lovely from a distance, but a hazard to traverse through. It's taken her countless times going through to begin to gauge which colored blobs resulted in which texture. The opalescent phthalo green was her favorite to walk upon; it was solid and wouldn’t cause her to slip. The translucent chartreuse was the worst; it was like walking on sticky slime. After all this time she had learned what each color corresponded to what, and which were the best to traverse over. Perhaps this was the best path back after all? At least the acre didn’t have a smell that offended her senses.

With her mind made up, she gives Beacon a few gentle pats to its trunk before wordlessly following the path that her companion had taken not long before.

It's not far from the Alloy acre's market to the bridge to the Blob acre, and by the time she sees the bridge from the Blob acre to the Farming Flats, she lets out a sigh of relief. Checking the mosaic sections of land ahead of her, she plans which colors to tread and which to avoid. As she gets closer a gaggle of Jiggli surrounds her suddenly.

In a particularly good mood from an uneventful trip though the acre, Pyrrha bends down to spend a moment with them. The bouncing five inch by five inch colorful cubes seem to jump a little higher at her attention. Their purpose in the Ever After has always eluded her, their forms don’t allow them to speak in any way, instead they squish and jump in a manner most pleasant; A way that conveys obvious happiness. But she supposes that they must have a purpose as everything else does, even if it isn’t obvious to her, it's as important as any other.

After letting them use her as a playground for a few minutes, the woman knows she needs to move on before she can summon Beacon for the night. The Blob acre isn’t an easy place for them to settle their roots. She rises gently and says goodbye, before leaving the joyous jumping Jiggli behind her.

Finally out of the Blob acre, the first thing she does is close her eyes and think of Beacon. When she opens them, her tree stands tall on the edge of the Farming Flats.

‘How was the Blob acre? ’ Beacon asks as her warrior approaches.

“Same as always,” Pyrrha replies, not sure what else to say. Beacon doesn’t offer to continue the conversation, so it dies simply. In the silence, Pyrrha climbs up the ladder, and shuffles around her home, settling in for the night. Before long she is curled up in her little nest of a bed, and as she looks up in the sky she can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu, one that’s been haunting her for years now; an inkling that something is missing in the sky. Missing the moon- her moon- Remnants moon, is a sensation that leaves her feeling a little less like an Afteren, and a bit more like her Remnant self.

By the time the suns rise the next morning, Pyrrha is already on her way through the Farming flats. This acre, were it not for the Afterens cultivating the land, would be incredibly boring. More flat than any other, this acre was used to farm most of the food for the Ever After, hence its name. While finding food on every acre is no large task, this one grows the most and then its goods are moved to all the big markets to be traded for. Most of the ingredients that Plum needs for making the dishes for the white seasons ball are from here.

But thankfully this dull and flat land was littered with denizens taking care of it. Plenty of opportunities for Pyrrha to talk to others and lend a needed hand. Which of course the Afterens always take her up on. This time they ask her to help carry multiple bundles of food back with them to their village. In no time at all she’s back on her way. Or so she thinks. Not even having left the border of the village a familiar voice calls for her. One that causes her blood to freeze.

“Warrior!” the voice calls again, and Pyrrha makes a split second decision to forget everything. Stopping, she turns toward the voice. Hopping toward her in two distinct parts is none other than the Cat most Curious.

“Cat,” Pyrrha greets gently, doing her best to imitate how she's acted all those years.

“What a surprise running into you! It's been so long, how are you?” The curious cat reconjoins into one being and climbs upon a nearby lattice to be closer to her height.

“I am doing well, thank you. The Ever After has been kind as always. Have I been keeping the Jabberwalker at bay enough?” she questions lightly.

“Indeed! I have heard of very few attacks. Instead I have been hearing about you and Jaune working together to hunt the beast down. I must commend you two. Tell me, how is he doing?” The cat lays down partially over nothing, crosses his paws, and tilts his head.

“You mean the Rusted Knight?” She tries her best to keep her eyes open and blank.

“That is what others call him, but he told me he was also called Jaune. Surely he told you this as well?” his head tilts the other direction, and his tail twitches. Pushing further into the act, Pyrrha thinks for a briefest of moments before replying.

“I do believe I remember him saying so, but I never understood what that meant. What is a name? Is it a purpose? If so, what kind of purpose is a Jaune?” she crinkles her face up in thought. The cat begins to laugh.

“Ho ho! I do agree. But it appears our dear Jaune is not from the Ever After! Instead he is from a place called Remnant,” as the cat begins to explain, he jumps down from the lattice, and begins to walk along the path out of the village. She follows him.

“Not from the Ever After? How could that be? I thought he was from the Remnant acre, far away?” she knew she was never a good liar, but if she could blur the line between the lie and the truth…

“Hmmm, he really hasn’t told you much, has he? Quite the opposite of the Jaune he was. Perhaps the poison messed with his memories?” the cat mutters, both speaking to her and himself. She opts to not say anything in response to this.

“Tell me, Warrior,” he says her purpose as if he means something different, “have you ever wondered why you and the Rusted Knight look so much alike?” The cat continues to act nonchalant, but his tone holds something that she can’t quite grasp. A hidden emotion she can’t quite place.

“I have. I’ve never seen another in the Ever After like me until he came along. But I have come to understand our build is optimal for fighting the Jabberwalker. It’s why we share the same purpose… no?” the woman feels herself getting more comfortable with acting like she doesn’t know anything at all. Like how she was before she got her memory back.

“Jaune doesn’t have a purpose. Remnant, the other world, doesn’t give its creatures purposes. He is cracked, just like Alyx and Louis were,” he says in such a factual off hand way that Pyrrha snaps back to her full self for a moment. What did he mean by ‘cracked’?

“Who were they?”

“Oh, just some other humans, like you and Jaune. They returned back to Remnant,” once again, he presented the information so off handed. ‘It's like… ’ she thinks, ‘It's like he’s trying to manipulate me into drilling him for answers. Now why would the curious cat want me to be curious? ’

“Humans?” she draws the word out, still trying to answer her own question, “Wait, are you saying that I am a human?” The cat continues his walk in front of her along the trail, never stopping, never getting side tracked. It’s something that he has never done before, unsettling the woman almost as much as how he's talking to her.

“Aren’t you?” he finally turns his head toward her, a glint in his eye.

“No, I’m Afteren,” she answers, but she can tell a bit of her own conviction drops.

“But what if you weren’t? You could go to a world with a whole bunch of others who look and talk like you! Wouldn’t that be interesting? Aren’t you curious? ” The cat stops moving forward, instead turning and wrapping himself in between her feet, brushing up against her legs. The Warrior takes a deep breath and replies:

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious as to where the Rusted Knight comes from. I love fighting alongside him, and if there were more of us? That being said, the Ever After is my home. I came from the tree from its root in the Meadow acre. My purpose is to help my fellow Afterens, and to keep the Jabberwalker at bay. I am the Warrior. If I were to leave them, who would be left?” she answers honestly. Too honestly, she realizes, and the thought shakes her. The cat stares back at her, his eyes blank, head tilted again, and his mouth pursed into a line.

“Hmm, well, I’m sure Jaune wouldn’t mind bringing you with him when he returns. If he returns. Maybe at least he would keep his promise. Toodaloo!” his tone changes completely, and he is back to his old smile once again before jumping off into the field and disappearing from sight.

Pyrrha stops dead still on the road and stares off into space where the cat disappeared. ‘What information did he want from me? Why was he trying to persuade me to go to Remnant? ’ the thoughts swirl in her mind, ‘I’m glad I pretended not to know anything. Jaune was right, the cat does seem to have some kind of ulterior motive… ’

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Pyrrha breaks the silence of the night with a soft voice.

“Yeah?” Jaune matches her tone.

“You ever wonder why we’re here?” she asks. The soft crackle of the nearby fire fills the space before her companion answers.

“It's just one of life's greatest mysteries, isn’t it? Why are we here? Is this all just some cosmic coincidence, or are the gods truly omnipotent and spiteful toward their own creation reflecting their own flaws?” he chuckles dryly. The fire lets out a solid crack, but it does little to phase the two laying back and staring at the stars.

“...well yes, but actually no. I mean… Why are we here ? Why did the Ever After allow time to reverse so much that you are a grown adult by the time Alyx and Louis appeared? You could still have rusted armor waiting on that accursed beach after a month or two. No one knows better than I how fast salt water can mess with your armor,” he can’t see it from his position, but she rolls her eyes, remembering what the Argus air did to her armor and weapons.

“You are still mad about the beach thing aren’t you,” humor dances in his tone. It's been a while since they realised they could have met a long time ago, and the ache has since faded.

“Yes! How could I not! I feel horrible! Years! For years we danced around each other if only I had been more observant!” Pyrrha laughs softly.

“Well… if it makes you feel better, I don’t know why the Ever After wanted me to be older by the time Alyx and Louis showed up. Seems kind of fairy tale like, hum? The older guide filled with warmth and wisdom to lead you through the story both physically and emotionally,” Jaune’s tone drops, almost detached from emotion.

“...yes…” she hesitates with her answer, searching the stars for a better response.

“But that would mean that the Ever After would know that Alyx would return to Remnant and write a story based on her experience. That would seem almost… controlling. Like a predetermined fate,” he scoffs lightly, obviously not buying his own story. There is a long pause, the two lost in the conversation but not having anything to add.

“As if… as if a god was pulling the strings,” Pyrrha sits up suddenly, “Remember the old tales that the god brothers, when they left humanity, decided to sleep in the earth itself? What if the Ever After was like that too?”

“Like a third god brother?” Jaune sits up slightly and blinks.

“It would make sense why the brothers alway bickered. They didn’t have a middle man to calm their quarrels,”

“I would be quite a tale. If it were the case,” he lays back down, his hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow, “But we will never know”.

“We may not, no,” her voice softens even more, “But the future is always uncertain”. The conversation drifts off again, and they are left staring off into the moonless sky.

Pyrrha finds herself fiddling with the gemstone around her neck. It's been months now since that time in the metal acre. Despite never being fond of loose jewelry before, this is a piece that has been remarkably easy to get used to. Everything has been so nice and quiet the last few months, it's been heaven. And with her gentle insight and assurance, Jaune has even started to relax to the idea of reincarnation in the Ever After. His stress over the Paper Pleasers used to itch oddly at her brain, but she ignored it seeing that he needed it more for himself than for them. Plus it really didn’t hurt them, since they still had a job to fulfill after all. But lately he's been more lax with them, less controlling, and her minute irritation is gone.

Pyrrha takes a deep breath then lets it out slowly. Yes they are waiting on their friends, and they have no idea when they will arrive, but for now, this waiting is lovely enough. She has no desire to see it end. Just friends, the explorable Ever After, and her Jaune.

“Great, see now that question is going to keep me up all night,” Jaune says suddenly, sighing. Pyrrha giggles softly.

“I’m sorry,”

“See, now you have it, and if you kick it towards Neptune…” Pyrrha watches off toward the side as Jaune tries to teach the Paper Pleasers how to kick a ball around for fun. He requested that they make a ball for the two of them to play for laughs, but the Paper Pleasers were just so much more invested.

“One more time, yes! You got it! See it just takes some time to get used to how to kick it. Go Yang go! Kick it to someone else now!” he eggs the stars on. It's quite a silly sight to see, all the stars with stubby legs and little balance trying to kick around a paper ball half their size. Despite the fact that they seem to fall over a third of the time, and for another third are able to kick it only about a foot in front of them, the Paper Pleasers are delighted with the game.

Pyrrha lets out a laugh as Jaune soon finds himself running between the stars helping right them more often than actually joining them.

At the sound of her joy, Jaune looks up and huffs dramatically through a smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but then catches the sight of another star falling over after getting in a good kick to the ball. Pyrrha laughs again at the antics, and the bright sound bounces off the paper houses, adding to the merriment.

Just as the Paper Pleasers finally start to get the hang of it, and Jaune gets a moment to pause and the two admire the little stars, a big resounding crack echoes through the air. Everyone goes silent. The two warriors scan everywhere looking for the source, their hands itching and prepared to grab their weapons.

A moment later another crack penetrates the sky, and a plume of dark smoke appears from the distance. The Paper Pleasers all chirp in various forms of calm acknowledgement before returning back to their game. Pyrrha stares out in the direction of the source of the smoke, realization slowly dawning on her face.

“What? What is it?” Jaune is suddenly at her side, watching the same thing she is with a serious look on his face.

“The volcanic acre,” she responds simply, but doesn’t take her eyes off the growing smoke, “it's been a while since the volcano has erupted, so I’m not shocked, but that doesn’t mean I am at ease by it”.

“So it's not odd that it would do this?” His voice is firm.

“No, I’ve seen this twice before,” she answers, copying his tone.

“Only twice?” his hand automatically grasps at his broken sword, old habits dying hard. Pyrrha simply nods at his question. They watch for another minute as smoke continues to release into the air at an astonishing rate. The volcano lets out another, less significant crack.

“Come, we can see more from Beacon’s branches,” Pyrrha announces suddenly, already heading off toward her friend. Without hesitation Jaune follows. Swiftly, with purpose and practice the two effortlessly climb the large willow. Sitting at the top of their friend’s branches they look out over the acre and into the one next, where lava spills out into the abyss and smoke decorates the sky. All of the exploding debris lands either within the acre, or into the empty space between. The two watch carefully, on guard in case anything goes wrong.

“I can’t believe we get to see this,” Jaune says suddenly. Pyrrha glances at him for only a second before turning back.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Terrifying, but amazing,” she muses in awe and terror.

“Yeah. I know we had them back on Remnant, but I always thought if I got to see one erupt, that I would be dead shortly after,” he huffs in amusement.

“There are many things we get to see, that those on Remnant never will. But this? I’d have to agree, it's pretty cool,” she lets out a soft sigh, and her shoulders drop slightly. The volcano’s cracks and plumes of smoke lessen and the two slowly shift from being on edge, to just watching with admiration.

“It’s probably stopped by now,” Pyrrha hums, righting her position in the branch to something more relaxed.

“You’re probably rig-” Another crack, one almost as loud as the first one shakes the sky, interrupting Jaune. A flaming piece of debris shoots through the thick dark clouds over the acre. Both warriors are instantly on edge once again, scanning the sky for where it’ll fall.

There is a tense pause before it’s seen again, then lands with a resounding thud off in the distance. The Lake acre. With silent hope from the both of them that it landed in the giant body of water that the acre is known for, they watch with anticipation…

Their fears come true. Smoke begins to rise from the forest that surrounds the giant lake. With a swift united glance toward each other, the two slide down the tree. Once on the ground, Jaune whistles for Juniper. She arrives in mere seconds, and the two hop on her back, launching forward at top speed.

There isn’t a direct bridge from the Origami acre to the Lake acre, so the three would have to pass through the Jabberwalker’s acre, much to Juniper’s distaste. The other two however, didn’t even blink an eye. In fact, they hardly noticed the Jabberwalker sitting on a large mound of dark sand in the distance, staring off at the very thing that held their attention so fervently.

“Destruction. Creation. Fix,” the creature grumbled over and over again, watching the volcano let out its final outbursts into the sky. It itself hardly noticed the trespassers. But if it did, maybe it wouldn’t have even cared.

Juniper’s hoofs clack on the brick bridge into the Lake acre, a reassuring sound. 

The wind has picked up in the acre, and cacophonous squawking echoes off every tree. The two riders keep their heads down to avoid the incoming tree branches, but Jaune keeps his eyes to the sky, steering his friend in the direction of the smoke.

Finally close enough, the trio dance around the area and get between the fire on the edge of the acre, and the lake. Breaking the treeline they instantly spot the acres inhabitants.

Honking up a storm, the seven swans dart hastily here and there in the water, unsure of what to do. Upon spotting the warriors, they stop their frantic movement and direct their cries toward them.

“It’s okay, we are here to help,” Pyrrha comforts, dismounting Juniper and standing at the edge of the watery marsh.

“Is everyone accounted for?” Jaune follows her lead. The swans all honk and nod affirmatively.

“Good, now we just have to make sure the fire doesn’t spread too far. My first instinct is water-”

“But how? We don’t have any buckets, and there are just two of us,” Pyrrha turns to Jaune, slight panic setting in. They were so focused on trying to help, they didn’t think of how.

“The only thing I can think of is our helmets, but they are way too small,” he puts a hand to his face, scratching at his beard in thought. The Swans start to honk aggressively, and the two’s attention whip to them. They watch as some of the swans start to pick at the reeds around them, and then start to almost weave with the grasses. Despite the shape of their beaks, clearly not meant for such an action, the swans effortlessly warp and weft the reeds. Amazement and understanding dawns on the humans.

“We should make a fire break,” Pyrrha announces, startling her partner. He tears his eyes away from the swans and their crafts.

“How? We don’t have axes, and I don’t think that’s something the swans can make,” the lilt of humor is enough to make her crack a smile.

“The trees here are not like the ones back home. They are softer. We could easily cut through them with little damage to our weapons. Nothing we couldn’t fix with a good sharpening,” she nods toward the swans hard at work, “by the time we finish the fire break, the swans should have finished a bucket or two, and we can work on the fire directly. But for now, we should make sure it doesn’t go too far”. Without further hesitation, she pulls out her spear and waves for him to follow.

With a hand motion for Juniper to stay put, he trails after her, diving into the forest towards the raging fire. The two of them have work to do.

Pyrrha and Jaune rush through the forest, getting as close to the fire as they dare. Even without seeing it, the heat is baffling and ferocious. The glow alerts them to the distance to keep, and after agreeing where to start, get to work on the tree break.

With their backs together, the two warriors begin to hack at the trees. Each one falls remarkably easily to their weapons. The tall and thin birch-like trees offer little in resistance, and despite their initial surprise at the speed they could work at, they both begin to settle into a rhythm.

The farther they get, the more they cut away, the more intense the heat and glow becomes. Pyrrha watches the fire on her left, and Jaune with it on his right. Eventually the two lose sight of each other as they circle around it. Time continues to pass, and the fire grows more and more in intensity, but yet the couple cut further and further into their goal.

Jaune works as fast as he can, but with a broken sword, he finds cutting each tree down to be more annoying than difficult. It's not the first time he’s had to do something under pressure like this, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. For now, despite his irritations and almost wishing his sword was whole again, he pours his focus into his task. More than anything, as the time ticks on, he wishes to be done and take a good swim in the lake to wash off all the ash, soot, and sweat that he’s accumulating.

Pyrrha was having mostly the same thoughts. Despite having a whole and intact weapon, her spear wasn’t much for chopping. It causes a rough and awkward start but she eventually gets the hang of how best to go about felling the trees. And just like her companion, as the time goes on, finds her mind wandering. Variations of ‘ Will they succeed? ’, ‘ what to do after? ’, and ‘ will the Jabberwalker come to clean things up after we leave? Should we stay to protect the swans? ’ fill her head. Before long, the smell of the smoke tickles her lungs, leaving her with an odd feeling. A pit of dread pools in her stomach.

“Relax, it's just a fire. I’m sure we are more than halfway done,” she whispers out loud in an attempt to calm her suddenly spiking anxiety. It does little. She pushes to lose herself into the action of cutting down the trees. It works just slightly, but she can not forget the slow and curdling feeling pushing its way up her chest. In fact, she is so lost in the thought of trying to forget , that she startles when she realises she cut the last tree down.

Facing the edge of the acre she can clearly see the neighboring one, still overrun with lava. The volcano is no longer erupting. The smell of fire is thick here, and ash that continues to pour out of the volcano falls like dirty snow. Something in Pyrrha’s brain screams of deja vu. Without letting herself dwell on why , she turns tail and runs, eager to catch back up with Jaune and the swans to ensure the safety of the acre.

Running at full speed is easy in the successfully large fire break she created, so she lets herself do just that, in hopes to escape the dread clawing at her sanity.

“Pyrrha!” Jaune’s voice causes her to halt in her tracks. She hadn’t quite made it back to the lake, but apparently he had finished at about the same time as her.

“Why were you running so fast? The fire didn’t make it past the break did it?” there is a tremor of panic in his voice. She simply shakes her head in response, not sure if she could explain why she finds herself so on edge at the moment. Especially when they should be focusing on the fire and not herself.

“So everything is okay?” he asks, his eyes filled with confusion and concern. She just nods in response, and looks toward the direction of the lake.

“Right, let’s… let's keep moving,” his thoughts stumble as he evaluates the woman next to him. She seems on edge; skittish even. Her eyes are focused, but her breathing is fast and light, and her fingers keep resetting themselves on her weapons. Something is wrong, but usually she’s very good about telling him… unless… It's an internal problem. ‘ I’ll ask her when we have the fire under control ,’ he promises to himself.

Pyrrha nods once again, then takes off, Jaune following only slightly behind.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the lake. When they do, they notice two of the swans returning from the direction of the fire, carrying two woven buckets in their beaks. They’ve already made at least one trip there and back. The warriors watch as the two fly down low to the lake and scoop up water on the fly, before turning back toward the fire. Two more join them, the last three are still in the water, three baskets drifting near them, as they work on another.

One of the swans still working notices them and begins to honk as best it can with reeds in its beak. Then it begins to flap its wings, creating a water current that moves the already made buckets just floating to drift toward the warriors. The two waste no time, and wade a few steps into the water to retrieve the gifts.

“Ready?” Jaune asks, a bucket already filled with water in his arms. Pyrrha stops mid step and looks at him curiously.

“Of course…?” She does her best to read his face as to why he asked such a question, but comes up short. He just shakes his head slightly, and starts the trek back toward the fire. She hesitates for a moment- ‘ can he see that I’m uneasy? ’.

The swans behind her finish another basket, and one of them leaves the trio to help. Their urgent honking finally propels Pyrrha forward. Walking purposefully but with care not to spill much water, she eventually catches up with Jaune, just past their fire break.

“Looks like they are trying to make the unburned parts too wet to actually catch. If they can keep the fire from jumping from tree top to tree top, maybe we should do the same down below?” he looks to his partner, and for the first time since they split to make the fire break, she seems focused and sure.

“Let's do it,” she announces. A little bit of tension leaves Jaune at the sight of his partner acting herself once again. With that out of the way, the two head just a little farther into the forest.

They don’t have to be right in front of it to see it. Just ten feet away is enough to see the fresh trees awash in flames, the trees behind it burning brightly, and those even farther in are reduced to embers. The two can barely hear the honking above them through the crackling and the hissing of the flames.

The sight makes the two uneasy. Pyrrha sees Jaune shake his head as if erasing his thoughts from the corner of her eye, before he tosses the water from his reed bucket in an arch. She finds the flames uneasy, but follows suit. The two turn tail and race back to the lake for more water.

Jaune wonders how many times they will have to run back and forth today.

Pyrrha wonders why the creeping feeling of dread comes back full force.

They approach the raging fire a second time, and this time Jaune doesn’t hesitate before he dumps his water out. But Pyrrha does.

Things start to come back to her now. Ash raining down, the smell of burning, every sound being muffled, and her terror. Her heart is racing now as she stares into the fire like a deer in the headlights. ‘ Run ’ her thoughts scream. With just a bit too much effort she tosses the water towards the fire. Instead of a gentle arch it looks more like a throw of self defense. Swiveling on her toes, she's already following Jaune’s path back. She pushes down every instinct that is telling her to run. Last time she let herself run she only felt more panicked after. Yet still in no time she's back to the lake, Jaune passing her with a full bucket just as she crosses the tree line. He gives her a grim smile on the way, and she does her best to mirror it.

As she reaches down to scoop up more water, she notices her hands are trembling. She attempts a deep breath to calm herself, but the smell in the air only makes it worse. Her own determination and frustration take over, pushing the rising storm down. ‘ I am a warrior- a huntress. I can do this ,’ she tells herself over and over, taking one step at a time. She doesn’t even notice when Jaune passes her again. ‘ I’ve fought the Jabberwalker many times, I’ve fought countless grimm, won so many bouts in tournaments, and fought against enemy factions, I can do thi- ’ she stops mid thought, face to face again with the fire. Her smothering anxiety flares again. The raining ash. The smell. The muffled sounds. Staring into the fire she’s seeing it again. Vale burning. Her school burning. That horrid night back full force.

The sudden memory collapses upon her, and the breath leaves her so fast, the sharp intake to replace it hurts her lungs. She wants to back away, to run, but she finds she lacks the strength to do so. Her legs feel unsteady beneath her, they bend and twist as she begins to back away, her brain replaying that day in her mind with astonishing detail. Fighting all those grimm and all the malfunctioning Atlas tech, she was tired even before she saw Ozpin…

Her back hits a tree, and she just slides down to the ground, her bucket of water long forgotten, its contents spilling to the side.

Now on the ground, her hands slide into her hair, grasping at it around her circlet, knees pulled up to her chest. The desire to just not exist permeates her very being in that moment. Her breathing is deep but frantic, and she just can’t keep her eyes off the dancing flames. So unlike the one that keeps her and her partner company every single night. No, this one is wild and devastating. This one takes. This one is unforgiving. This one is powerful.

Burning eyes cross her vision, unapologetic ones thirsting for power and destruction. She lets out a shriek and her panting gets worse, her wild eyes searching the forest for her .

The fire lets out a particularly loud crack, and it makes her flinch hard, pushing into the tree at her back, wanting to get away, but unable to. Panic and helplessness strain her eyes, and a tear falls free. Then another and another. She knows she shouldn’t be this close to the growing fire, but fear and helplessness keep her pined.

“Pyrrha!” her name echoes against the sound of the fire, but it's muffled to her ears. She can’t quite make out that it was her name, but just that the sound makes her jump and cover her ears. It just sounds oh so familiar to the last thing she ever remembered hearing that terrible night.

Jaune didn’t question why Pyrrha was falling behind him with the water. At first he thought maybe it was her plan to stagger their efforts, but as he passed her and she hardly noticed him, he knew he must be fooling himself. As he makes it to the lake to refill, he sees the final two swans finish up the last bucket, and join the efforts. With a silent promise to stop Pyrrha and seriously ask her what is wrong, he scoops up more water and starts the trek back. Every step he takes that he doesn’t see her up the path makes him more and more worried. What could have her in a bind like this? If anything, she’s always been more confident and comfortable in the Ever After than he has been, so what could possibly be eating at her?

His fears skyrocket when he sees the fire in the distance and she isn’t on the path to pass him. Despite the roar of the fire, there is a significant crack as a large branch snaps off in the distance, and he swears he hears a scream. On cue he drops his bucket. He races forward only a couple of feet before he sees her on the ground against a tree in the distance, way too close to the raging forest fire.

“Pyrrha!” he shouts, praying that she will yell back that she’s okay, just tripped or something. She doesn’t respond.

“Pyrrha!?” his voice breaks as he shouts her name again. He gets just a bit closer and notices that she's all curled up with her hands over her ears. Despite how tall she is normally, here she looks so small, so defenceless.

Finally next to her, he sees her staring off into the fire, her eyes darting here and there, but they never settle on him. Kneeling down to her level, he places himself between her and the fire, blocking her view. She flinches, and he notices that she's crying.

“Pyrrha,” he repeats her name softly, and ever so gently prying her hands from her head. Her hands begin to tremble, and she pulls her knees even closer into herself.

Jaune curses himself internally. He knew something was off, but he didn’t know what, or what to do about it. He was hoping it could wait, but apparently not. He curses himself again. She was fine earlier in the day, of course if it was related to what they were doing that it would continue to affect her. Her hands still in his, he monevers both of hers into his left hand, and places his right on her cheek lightly.

“Hey, what's going on?” he questions gently, fighting as best he can against the sounds of the fire behind him. He can feel the heat against his back grow. They have to get away from the flames soon. If she can do it herself, great. If not he will have to carry her.

She seems to come back to reality slightly at his question. Her eyes still dart around, both seeing and not, but they start looking back at him as well.

“Deep breath, breathe Pyrrha. Look at me, deep breath,” he guides her, but her hyperventilating doesn’t slow. Yet the more he talks, the more she looks back at him.

“There, I’m here, focus on me,” he feels his hope lift. Suddenly she yanks her hands back and grasps at his shoulders.

“Jaune,” she sounds terrified. It sends chills up his spine. He opens his mouth to try and calm her down again, but she flies back into hysterics.

“Jaune, we have to get out of here, it isn’t safe. She’s… she's here. I can’t have her… I can’t… you…” she looks around the forest frantically, “We need to leave. Now. Jaune, let's go!” She scrambles to her feet, pulling Jaune along as best she can. He readjusts so that she's holding his hand, but only lets her drag him a few feet away before pulling back.

“Pyrrha, you need to calm down first, we will leave the rest of the fire to the swans if we have to, but first I need you to tell me what's wrong,” he explains calmly, his own heart matching the pace of her breathing.

“It's on fire, everything is on fire. The city, the forest, me… everything. It can’t… it can’t take you too. You have to run. Run… run,” her eyes start to zone out again, before she turns, looks at the fire, then finally gives into the voice that’s been screaming inside of her for a long time now. She runs.

Finally . Finally she's able to move; to run. It’s a relief at first, but the urgency doesn’t stop, so she runs faster. The sights and sounds around her are all a blur, all she can sense is that she's farther away from the heat- from the fire. She hears a voice calling out somewhere, but it can’t stop her legs, not now that she’s finally able to run again. Not even the trees that reach out to slow her are able to.

She breaks through the treeline to the lake, a small distance from where they were drawing water. Juniper looks over curiously, but Pyrrha simply redirects her angle and continues back into the trees. She runs and runs, until she sees a pair of glowing fiery eyes, and a glass weapon grazes across her face. Her cheek and eyebrow sting in pain from the cut. She lets out a scream and falls to the ground. In an act of protection she crawls around and scoots her back against a tree. Although in a more logical state she would notice that the tree is less than a quarter her width.

“No, no not again, please,” she begs the air, looking desperately for her attacker. She jumps as a figure bursts past some trees in her direction, but quickly realises that it is just Jaune. Her heart drops.

“No! No you have to run away! She’s here! She can't get you too,” she begs her partner, her friend, her love. He just looks back at her sadly, approaching her slowly.

“Who’s here?” he asks gently, kneeling in front of her. She looks around frantically for a second before turning back to him.

“C-Cinder,” she gets out through a hitched breath. Jaune closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, there is nothing but support, love, and sorrow pouring from his expression.

“You saw her. You saw the fall of Beacon in the fire back there didn’t you?” he asks, already knowing the answer by now.

“She’s… she’s…” she stumbles to answer, her breath finally slowing just a bit, but her tears coming back full force.

“She’s not here. I was the last one to fall off the bridge to the Ever After. She isn’t here,” he tells her confidently, but gently.

“But her weapon-!” she starts to shake again, as she lifts her hand to touch her cheek. Blood has started to drip from the cut, and mingles with her tears.

“You ran into a branch. See, that one back there,” he moves his body a little to point at a lower hanging tree branch, just the height of their heads. She looks at it, then down at her hand, her own blood and tears smeared across it. She stares at it blankly for a minute.

“Pyrrha. Look at me,” she does what she's told, “The fire was just stirring up old memories. You remembered the fall of Beacon, and you started to panic. It's not happening again. You are a beautiful middle aged woman, and the love of my life. You are safe in the Ever After. I am right here.”

It's enough to ground her a little. Staring at each other, she starts to copy his breathing pattern.

“There we go,” he readjusts himself so that he's sitting right in front of her, “now let's take care of those scratches. Can I?” He waits for her to acknowledge, and after a moment, she nods. Tenderly he takes her hands and activates his aura. The feeling of his amping her own sweeps over her, and slowly her muscles start to relax. Scratches and cuts that she hadn’t even noticed disappear before her eyes.

“You really just ran through those trees. It would have been harder to keep up with you if it weren’t for how sporadic your directions were,” he chips lightly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. He shakes his head.

“Don’t be. We’ve both been through a lot. I still have nightmares where… on the bridge…” he shakes his head, “those moments still haunt me, nothing can change that. Having you and Juniper around makes the memories manageable”. There is a moment of silence as the final wounds heal.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha whispers.

“Of course,” Jaune whispers back, “can you stand?”.

“I think,” she replies. They both rise slowly together, Pyrrha the more cautious of the two. On her feet once again, she lets out a shaky smile. He watches her for a second to make sure she is stable, before trapping her in a desprate hug. She returns it with much less force.

“I’m glad you’re okay. Please tell me next time you feel that it starts to happen again. We won’t go by any large fires again, I’ll be sure of it so…” he trails off.

“I didn’t even know what was happening when it started,” she explains, “I just felt so panicked for no reason, and then suddenly there was reason, and I was trapped in my thoughts. I wanted to run, but at the same time I wanted to stay and disappear”. She shivers, and he just pulls her in tighter.

“You will know for next time,” he reassures her. She nods into his shoulder.

After a few minutes, the two finally walk back to the lakeside where Juniper waits for them anxiously. The swans are still flying back and forth, but the smoke rising in the distance has dwindled considerably. A couple even stop to show their concern for the warrior, as while her wounds have disappeared, the blood hasn’t. She apologizes, and they honk their understanding before returning to take care of the last of the forest fire.

They take a minute to let her clean up the drying blood in the lake, before saddling up upon Juniper once again. This time Jaune is insistent that Pyrrha ride front, and she reluctantly agrees. As she hops on and feels her weapons on her back between her and Jaune, she remembers they had been there the whole time. Never once did she pull them, even when in her panic did she think Cinder was there. Every time previously when she thought of the woman who killed her, she mentally put on a defensive stance. Anger or determination would always overtake her. This time it was overwhelmingly fearful. How strange and terrifying the mind can be. Perhaps our strongest enemies aren’t those we can see, but our own minds.