Happy new year!
Not my desired time to drop this chapter.
So, long story short, that minor cold I complained about, uh, sometime back in September, turned out to be pneumonia! So, that's three weeks of my life I'm never getting back, and a persistent cough whenever I laugh too much. It also turns out that three weeks off HNC-level college equals roughly
nine weeks of catching up, which I also had to spend scrambling to get ready for assessments, which have dominated my life since, fucking, basically the middle of October. This is all on top of, thanks to the aforementioned pneumonia taking my immune system for seven rounds in the ring just before flu season, catching every minor bug and flu going around the shop
bar covid, thank God, constantly keeping me just miserable enough to not have the energy for anything without a hard deadline.
So yeah, I've just kind of been doing stuff that
isn't this nonstop, and
this grew about three sizes larger than it was intended to be but it's all (mostly) done, and I can finally breathe a little.
Hopefully, next y-er, this year, will be better, and hopefully, this little rattle in my chest isn't more pneumonia.
It's only after you've made the choices that you realise that you've given the Process its first truly independent tasks. You've told it to do something, without your or the Transistor's direct supervision for the most part. You realise that you just… expect it to perform its tasks to your standards.
Two weeks ago, you found yourself shocked that it learned binary quickly enough to thank you in your hospital bed. Now, you're letting it run off on its own initiative.
A little pride-filled smile forces its way up your face, even as a little flutter of concern grows in your chest.
Do not worry, sysadmin. Will be careful on the internet. Transistor has provided us with a blacklist of IP addresses to avoid, so our search will go more efficiently!
Your eyes flick to the Transistor in the corner, red eye now roughly the same colour as the rest of its shell- you know, you
thought the room looked a little colder than it ought to be- and raise an eyebrow.
Blacklist?
{All the sites you'd think to blacklist, and a few you wouldn't thank me for telling you about. Also just about anything with a comments section, and a restriction on most outgoing traffic.}
Mm. It sounds somewhat excessive, in any other context, but giving a baby artificial intelligence access to the internet is… probably not the best way to let them keep their faith in humanity. What about the other stuff?
{Well, the Process seems to have some other droid designs up its sleeves. The Cell and Creep are the most basic designs possible, and they're kinda weird in that respect.}
What do you mean?
Jaune- you coded the Process from scratch. Why does it have prebuilt unit designs hardcoded into its programming?
… You- huh.
You… don't know?
You ping the Process about that, and they give you the digital equivalent of a
shrug.
Not prebuilt unit designs. Forms that feel comfortable to inhabit.
Hm. Well, you're not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. What's a
Jerk- agh, a Jerk?
{Dove.}
Dove.
Dove!
Yes, yes, now that you've all
dove for the same knife, answer the question.
{It looks… big. Larger than human big.}
A small diagram comes up, showing what looks like a large Cell, with more material floating above it. It gives the impression of a large head and shoulders, followed by two massive arms, made of segmented pieces.
Each arm segment is magnetised- by rapidly alternating the electrical charge, the arms will oscillate at speed!
… It's a jackhammer.
{It's a jackhammer powered like a
railgun.}
Oh, you're not
disparaging it- you can't wait to see it in action.
Now- what about this water purifier?
Each unit is roughly the size of a butane canister, and would weigh about 15 kilograms empty- about three times that full, accounting for both filtered and unfiltered water. It seems it could be scaled up, for household use, or even scaled down to something the size of a water bottle, without losing relative efficiency in either direction.
An exploded diagram appears, and you realise that it's… not, all that beyond the mundane.
Wait. There it is.
"Why's the storage compartment filled with a massive mesh?"
Lumen turns in his sleep, and you wince. You need to be
quiet.
Process-created microfibre! Spun from long-chain polymers!
{You fill it with water, the mesh binds to whatever gunk is in it, then delivers a genuinely quite scary electric pulse to kill off anything still living inside, and then transports the water to the outer compartment to be used.}
"How dir-" people are sleeping,
"-how dirty can it be before the mesh can't keep up?
{I wouldn't want to try it with a sewage line without scaling it up a fair bit, but you could install this in any household and recycle greywater pretty easily. Or just filter water from a river that isn't the Elden through it, and end up with a couple gallons fresh to use for cooking, washing, drinking, or all of the above in that order if you're smart about recollecting it.}
That's kinda gross.
{It would
literally be sterile after every filtering.}
It's… still kinda gross.
Blue makes a scoffing sound you've long since learned is shorthand for 'gods humans are weird,' and stifle a snort of your own.
"So… when will it all be ready? You already have the diagrams, can't you just… make them, right now?"
It's a preliminary idea. Give us a week and it'll be a magnitude more efficient. The Jerk's pretty much ready to go, though.
Hm. Nice.
All this talking actually made you feel a little better. You can almost ignore your friends having nightmares, now.
{... Huh. They're not.}
What?
{They're not in REM sleep. They're not dreaming. If they're not dreaming, then…}
… They're not having nightmares.
You almost burst out laughing, and just about manage to rear it back to a quiet, strangled snort.
Ah… this is all really starting to get to you, isn't it?
{Maybe a bit. Just… try and get some sleep, okay? Coffee isn't gonna stretch you that far today.}
Mm…
Even now, you feel your eyes starting to droop, your head sinking farther back into the pillow than was possible a few moments ago.
Sleep takes you- finally.
|||
Core Skills, you realise almost instantly, is kind of a nothing class. You won't go so far as to say it patronises you, but it certainly covers old ground.
It turns out, if you listen to Professor Peach, that among Huntsmen and Huntresses- especially Huntresses, before the Great War, for reasons not specified- the general skill level in reading, writing, and arithmetic were, in a word, basic at best.
As such, to make sure that you can lead a long, happy life of not embarrassing Beacon Academy by spending ten minutes reading a single bounty poster, or worse, not reading a bounty poster at all and doing something stupid like killing a rescue target, then failing to pay your tithes correctly, they must insist on establishing a baseline skill level in those subjects.
It was fair enough, you suppose, especially when you watched Ada genuinely freeze in horror at a question asking what a small article talking about Dust prices was about.
{Well, that's what the class is there for.}
Mm, true. What's next?
{It's…}
Blue hesitates, and you realise you don't need him to tell you. You spotted it on your timetable earlier today, after all.
Dust Alchemy 101.
"Jaune?" Creme asks, voice full of concern. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"Uh, it-it's nothing, I-I'm fine, really."
You are
visibly not fine. You feel your skin going clammy, the slight tremble in your hands, the way you're taking in less air than you rightly should with each breath. Your heartbeat is suddenly deafening, pounding through your ears, your neck, your chest-
{Jaune. You have a crystal of Æther Dust
in your room. Right now. You use it as a lamp.}
Yes,
contained, not likely to
explode any time soon. You think. You
hope. You think you might just throw it out when you go back, just to be sure.
"Jaune, do you need to get some fresh air?" Lumen asks seriously. "We can cover for you, if you want."
"I-I'm fine, really, I just- haven't… had many good experiences with Dust. I'm just antsy."
Ada snorts.
"Jaune Arc, the man who killed two building-sized Grimm after recovering from an aneurysm, is scared of a little Dust?"
Her voice has the warm kind of teasing tone you expect out of your sisters, but that still stings a little.
"Hey," Creme cuts in. "It'll be fine, okay? We won't be dealing with Dust on the first day, hopefully. And, if we are, we'll, cover for you, okay?"
You force yourself to breathe deep- until you feel your chest expand, shifting against your shirt, then nod with the exhale. Come on. You've got this. What have you been through that's worse than a little Dust mishap that nearly killed you?
{Getting shot at, nearly stabbed, blown up, suffocated, Grimm attacking you, several aneurysms in the past two weeks, your handwriting…}
Maybe you are worrying about nothing. Yeah. Then you reach B-15, which is at least 20 metres away from every other classroom on the basement floor, and your heart gently starts to sink.
Its door is made of
riveted steel. It has a
crank-wheel.
"... Okay, maybe they're just paranoid! Dust
is…" Creme starts, trailing off for a moment.
"Volatile?" suggests Lumen, after a moment's awkward silence.
"
Occasionally disagreeable," Creme grinds out, tone insistent.
"Would you three relax? This is probably just to psych people into paying attention," says Ada, reaching up and twisting the crank wheel.
After a struggle, she shifts her grip and puts some Aura and elbow grease into it. The wheel opens with a rough squeak, and the door swings open.
… Revealing the massive steel bars on the other side and the deep holes on the top and bottom of the doorframe. Some effort they're putting in just to psych people out.
Inside, the classroom is much the same as any other chemistry classroom you've seen- high tables and chairs, with work benches along the perimeter. At the front of the classroom- with, you cynically note, his desk positioned just right to give him a clear sprint to the door- was the professor, with his feet kicked up on a desk, and a magazine in hand.
"Make yourselves at home, sit wherever," he says from behind the magazine, which you've only seen in passing. It's made of plain, unbleached paper, more like a newspaper than a magazine. The front cover consists of a picture of the Chamber of Lords. It's a picture from the latest parliament broadcast, involving Lord Hayfield and the Lords Monday, who were having a
wonderful time laughing at Hayfield, whose face had gone ruddy from shouting so much.
Hm. What was all that about, anyway?
{You'll probably find out in Civics, tomorrow.}
As you take your seat, you finally manage to make out the headline, which reads:
CHAMBER JESTERS ANOINT NEW FOOL
The four of you take seats in a row near the door. People continue to filter in, sitting in their teams or at least in pairs, and once the room is full, the professor puts the magazine down and takes his feet off the desk.
He stands up, revealing the long horse tail hanging just above his jeans, almost matching the long ponytail he's tied his back-length hair into.
"I have always believed in practical demonstrations as the most direct method of learning-" the professor starts.
On the first day?
"-and as such, I would ask you all to go to the cupboards, please, and pull out a tray."
You swallow thickly, throat suddenly too dry. Your legs are numb as you get up and turn to the cupboards, silently wondering whose cruel joke this is- the professor's, Ozpin's, or just fate's in general. You open the cupboard, reach in, and pull out a grey, plastic tray-
…
Full…
Of cocktail equipment. Fear is rapidly replaced with confusion, and you look around the room, seeing the exact same equipment in the hands of your teammates, in Sky's hands, Rashmi's, Ruby's, Yang's- enough to make you realise that this is intentional.
"Yes, those trays. Take them to your table," the professor says.
There's a silent hesitation simmering through the entire class; glances are shared and expressions are made, as everyone's expectations shift in the face of the professor of Dust Alchemy being certifiably insane. You place your tray down, as the professor brings his out from under his desk. Suddenly, it feels far less like you and your classmates are victims of a prank.
The professor begins pulling tools off his tray, such as the cocktail shaker, and a small, metallic hammer, like the kind an old kitchen might have specifically for breaking toffee. Once he's cleared it, he walks over to one side of the room, dominated by a
very large vault, and opens it to reveal labelled boxes, filled with vials of Dust, and, while rarer, still a significant number of Dust crystals.
By your estimate, there is roughly a king's ransom's worth of Dust in that one vault, and this isn't the only Dust Alchemy classroom in Beacon. Silently deliberating to himself, the Professor opens two boxes, pulling out a Water Dust crystal, and an Air Dust crystal.
"Please watch closely, because repeating myself makes me anxious," he says, bringing them to his desk and casually tossing them in the tray.
The clatter makes everyone else wince.
You physically grab the sides of your stool to tamp down on the urge to remove yourself from the class. Even knowing that the worst thing he can do with those crystals is make everything very wet, and then dry them off just as quickly, does nothing to stop your guts from turning to liquid and start dripping into your shoes.
{Jaune. There's no shame in calling it quits in the face of,
this.}
... No. No, Water Dust and Air Dust aren't that dangerous. You can
do this.
Then the professor picks up the toffee hammer and, raising his arm high, brings it down on the Wind Dust like a blacksmith would a piece of iron, and that resolve is tested fiercely. Everyone is yelling at him to stop, you're pretty sure Al has fainted, but then something happens that leaves everyone silent in confusion.
The Dust crystal... cracks.
Without exploding. As if he'd hit a particularly brittle bit of stone, or, well, a semiprecious stone.
He continues smashing it up, grinding it down to a coarse powder, before pouring it into the shaker out of the corner of his tray, and repeating the process with the Water crystal.
Once that's done, just like a bartender, he slams the top on the shaker, picks it up, and with rapid, smooth motions, shakes the tin pull of Dust as if he's emulsifying it. After about 30 seconds, frost has begun to form on the metal as the Dust chills the air inside to arctic temperatures. He pulls the cap off the top with a grunt of effort, revealing a small spout and filter, then pours an eye-searingly teal powder into a glass jar within his tray.
Ice Dust- the powdered mixture of Water and Air, and honestly one of the safer Dusts to work with, compared to Fire, or, Brothers forbid, Lightning.
The glass jar is corked, a small tag is added to it, and it's set to the side. The professor looks out at the class, and gives everyone a cheeky little grin.
"What did we learn from that demonstration?"
Naturally, he's met with complete silence.
"... Come on, take a minute to think about it," he says, and slowly, the atmosphere turns from shocked to contemplative.
What...
did you learn from that?
{That Dust is fragile?}
True. You've never thought about it, for obvious reasons, but you never expected Dust to be the kind of thing you could just, thwack with a little hammer to break up.
Actually.
You pick up your own little hammer and are enlightened. It isn't actually blunt, you realise; the end is actually a rather wide cone, coming down to a single point. It's like those steel chunk hammers that people have for breaking through car windows.
All that force, concentrated in one point- Dust
is fragile, but only with the correct tools.
"See, he's getting it," the professor says, pointing at you. "The hammer is important, but it's not the secret sauce. Any other guesses?"
"... You never had your Aura up," Weiss says after a moment. "Which, if I may be blunt, seems
monumentally stupid."
He points to her next, and you get to enjoy the vaguely amusing sight of Weiss looking like
she's been pinned in place like a butterfly now.
"Weiss Schnee. The
only person I expected to come in here today with half a thought in their head about how Dust Alchemy works, and you came so,
so close, to being completely correct."
Every word out of his mouth sounds like he's complimenting an old rival, lamenting their inability to give him a good fight. His tail swishes back and forth excitedly as he moves around his desk, leaning back on it from the other side.
"You are completely correct in the fact that I never once put my Aura up; however, you are wrong on, two points," he says, holding a pair of fingers up. "Firstly- it was not stupid for me to have my Aura down, but we'll get to that later. Secondly, you didn't go far enough- I was suppressing my Aura entirely, which is a key skill you will learn in this class."
Murmurs break out as the revelation sinks in, and everyone, once again, realises they are being taught by an
utter madman. It's all just white noise in your ears. He
smashed apart two Dust crystals with nothing but a
toffee hammer, with his Aura
suppressed, and he expects
you to do the same.
You feel like your breath is getting away from you. None of the air you're pulling in is fresh, and none of it is going where it should be.
Creme clamps down on your shoulders, bringing you back to reality for just a second.
"Hey, Jaune, c'mon, let's go outside for a moment," she says, pulling you from your seat.
"Can I ask you both to sit down, please?" he asks.
"He's
having a
panic attack," Creme grinds out, sounding distinctly displeased.
To the side that doesn't have Creme on it, you vaguely feel Ada and Lumen start to grow tense as well, just waiting to jump in if they're needed. Somewhere in the back of your mind, Bracket informs you that Ada grabbed Lumen's hand a while ago and hasn't stopped
crushing it since the hammer came down on the Dust.
The professor stares at you and Creme for a moment, eventually coming to a silent decision. He walks forward, keeping his eyes on you.
"Hey. You good?" he asks, his voice low and soft.
You jump back a little as you realise how close he got in just a couple of steps- the man's legs are
long- and try to put on a brave face.
"If you really need to go, I won't stop you, but right now, I'd rather you shake my hand," he says. His voice is quieter, now- firm, yes, serious, even, but above all,
warm. "Trust me, okay?"
You stare at the proffered limb with more than a bit of confusion, but you take his hand in yours, giving it a limp shake, trying your best to still your trembling. The professor's flesh
burns, his hand distinctly rough and warm around yours. A working man's hands- someone who's spent years building calluses.
"Look for my heartbeat. What do you feel?"
People are watching you now, and that only makes you more self-conscious about the whole panic attack thing, but you do as he says. You feel out the professor's heartbeat, fingers brushing down across his wrist, and by instinct, you reach for the second heartbeat of his Aura...
... Which... isn't there.
He has, as far as you can tell... no Aura.
"You have no Aura?"
The professor flares it, a brilliant, almost eye-searing blue, and you feel the second pulse come in hard enough it almost feels like it travels down your arm, making you jump.
"I have Aura. I'm just very good at keeping it down there when I'm working. So, with that in mind, I want you to watch closely, okay?"
With that, he goes back to his desk, pulls the cork off the newly-formed Ice Dust, and pours some into his hand. He starts to rub it all over his hands, vigorously, smacking them together, against the table, the chalkboard, clapping thick clouds of teal powder everywhere.
Every impact, without fail, does more damage to the class's preconceptions of Dust than it does to the Dust itself.
"There are," smack, "three things," whack, "that consistently," thwack, "set Dust off. Can anyone tell me what they are?"
Silence follows. You can't tell if it's because nobody knows the answer, or because everyone's too mortified
to answer.
Weiss raises her hand.
"Anyone
but the Dust heiress? Anybody?"
Weiss rolls her eyes, but keeps her hand up anyway.
"Alright, go on, Ms Schnee."
"Direct heat, via combustion, contact with ionised water, or... Aura... use..."
Weiss trails off, looking at the professor in an entirely new light.
"Exactly!" the professor says, clapping his hands together, this time flaring his Aura.
The Ice Dust reacts as he claps, buffeted out on the air and causing a plume of snow to form, gently raining down on his desk.
"Yes, there are all these stories of Dust being used to build bombs," he starts, shaking snow out of his hair, "or car crashes that go up in Aether Dust flames, or freight trains being derailed and half a kilometre of track being rendered uninhabitable by melting, freezing, electrifying, and mountains forming out of molehills. But those are all,
tonnes of force, being exerted on
tonnes of very finely powdered Dust- far finer than anything we'll ever use, or society really
needs. That's Dust going through bad luck, bad forces, or used by bad people in the most boring ways possible."
The professor dips his fingers in the Ice Dust, and turns to the blackboard behind him, scratching out faint cyan letters with his fingers on the whiteboard in a rapid, scratchy cursive.
"There's an old, Valish saying," the professor starts, the words halting as he focuses on his writing. "'Beneath every ponytail, there is an arsehole.' I can attest to the truth of this twice over because I
am an arsehole. Being an arsehole is the only way you can work safely around Dust- by showing nothing but sheer, blind confidence bordering on arrogance in what you are doing. You cannot- especially
you lot,
cannot show fear around Dust. Because Dust is cruel like that! It wants
nothing more than for you to do what your instincts as Hunters tell you to do, which is to keep your Aura ready at all times, lest the Remnant-shattering kaboom come for you next. I
must impress upon you the severity of that lesson
, by terrifying you
now, or you will
make that mistake
later, and that will affect you far,
far worse than anything I have done today could have possibly done to you."
He finishes writing with a flourish, leaving his finger on the chalkboard for just a moment..
"My name is Professor Edward Teach, you will call me Professor Edward if you have to call me anything, and I am the arsehole that will be teaching you this year. Welcome to Dust Alchemy 101, and here's the first, very most important, rule of this class."
He pulses his Aura, and cloudy ice forms on the board, forming his name, 'Dust Alchemy 101,' and that first rule below.
"No Aura? No Boom!"
|||
The rest of your class, which is damnably a three-period slot with only a 30-minute break, is thankfully nowhere near as exciting as the first ten minutes of the class were.
You mostly learned about the tools you would be using and were told with no uncertain terms that you wouldn't be handling Dust as he did until he could ascertain that the entire class was able to completely suppress their Aura. Once more, for what feels like the millionth time since you came to Beacon, you're asked to stay behind. Once the last person has filtered out, he asks his question.
"So- what happened?" he asks you simply.
You blink, taking a second to think what he could mean and coming up… blank.
"Uh… what happened where?" you ask back.
Teach snorts, moving to clean up the remnants of his experiment. Most of the equipment, the hammer, the tray, and the measuring cups he didn't actually use, go into a normal sink. The shaker full of Dust, however, is taken to a bright red sink at the back, with various buttons above it.
He presses one, which lights up the same shade of teal as the Dust, and very carefully pours it directly down the spout. Teach catches you staring when he turns around and smiles.
"Dust disposal. Since we only ever work with one Dust at a time during class, we convinced Ozpin it would be smarter to store what's made and recycle it."
He throws the shaker into the sink and starts to wash his equipment. The water turns into a half-frozen slush on contact with the residue left in the shaker, not that Teach seems to care much, just shaking the shards of ice off his hands.
"Listen, Jaune- I know someone with a Dust phobia when I see them. When I pulled out two crystals of the safest Dusts we know of, bar Earth Dust, you damn near bolted out the door. You don't have that kinda reaction unless you've been given a
damn good reason to not trust Dust. So- what happened?"
Your brain stalls for a moment, as you realise you're being asked this entirely sincerely; possibly more sincerely than Teach has been this entire time. There's no hidden jab or undertone of snark, he's just, genuinely concerned about you.
As you look into his eyes, searching for something to that effect, you realise that causing you a full-on panic attack may have genuinely affected him more than he'd let on in the moment.
"... I was 11," you start.
"There was a science fair kinda deal, I decided to show how people used to use Dust, melting the raw ore and pouring it into grooves on a spear. It was going fine, I melted the ore, it was Lightning Dust-" you don't miss Teach's involuntary wince,
"-spilt it on the floor, it started to react, I was the only person there who had Aura, so…"
You trail off, not very comfortable admitting the next part at all. Teach doesn't press, just nodding once and moving on.
"... Okay. Lightning Dust isn't something we work with until a few years down the line anyway. We don't actually work with anything other than Air, Water, and Earth Dust until about your third year of doing this course."
You let out a sigh, feeling some previously imperceptible weight lift off your shoulders. The worst of the worst-case scenarios have just gone up in smoke.
Getting blown off your feet, being soaked, having to smash your hands out of a mud cast. You're pretty sure you can deal with those.
"... Okay. Thank you. Sorry. I don't, want to be inconvenient, for the class-"
"Shut up," Teach says bluntly. "Don't you
dare apologise for your traumas. I gave you the chance to leave, and you instead chose to tough it out, and I am
so proud of you for that, Jaune."
Every word out of his mouth is like a punch to the throat- you don't need Blue to tell you he means
every word of it, and that just makes it worse. For a few moments, the only sound in the room is the sound of the ice on the chalkboard slowly crackling, sublimating into the air as Ice Dust is wont to do. The entire time, you're struggling to find anything to say, while your chest just keeps tightening.
"So… how would you feel about remedial classes, on your Sunday afternoons? Just to try and ease your way into using it, becoming comfortable around it, and maybe learning some of the stuff you might've skipped over out of general aversion- that kinda stuff."
… That… doesn't sound like a terrible idea, actually. Especially now that you know you're not just being handed a grenade and told to not set it off by
breathing the way you have your entire teenage life, that sounds entirely doable.
"... I'd appreciate that greatly, Professor Edward."
He exhales, grinning widely. His shoulders drop, finally relaxing a little as some worry rolls off his back.
"Great! We won't actually be doing any mixing with the real stuff until after the first semester, so we have until January to get you comfortable with the idea of working with it. I'll be offering this to everyone else next week, so don't worry about feeling out of place- I always get a handful of people who feel they need the extra experience. So, see you there?"
You exhale, promise the professor he'll see you there, and walk back upstairs, suddenly far more confident in Dust Alchemy as a class.
Class Quest acquired: Playing With Fire (And Water, And Earth, And Air)
Let's go over the facts.
You have a phobia of Dust. A very justified phobia of Dust, stemming from childhood trauma, yes, but still an irrational fear. Normally, that is just an abstract thing, like a fear of rats, or spiders, or thunderstorms- it's something you can ignore by not thinking about it, and not being around your trigger.
That privileged time of your life has come to an end. It is time to face your fears and come out the other end able to make your own home mixes of Dust, rather than being dependent on independents doing custom cuts, which are ruinously expensive, if very effective, or SDC-standard ratio cuts, which are ruinously expensive, and nearly useless.
Requirement: Attend remedial classes every Sunday afternoon. Get over your fear of Dust. The rest of the class is a piece of piss after that.
Reward: The ability to create Custom Cuts of Air, Water, and Earth Dust. Wanna make Ice Dust? Mud Dust? Dust Dust? Wanna make a bomb that launches bricks at people? Learn to cut Dust.
|||
Lunch rolls around, you get tackled by Creme, who had convinced herself you were being yelled at and had to be held back by Yang to not go back there and give Teach a piece of her mind. You tell her what happened, Creme seems, if not happy, then mollified, and you settle down to a plate of good old-fashioned steak pie.
"
Ugh," Creme grumbles, picking at a plate of carbonara. "I still can't
believe he thought any of that would be okay!"
"You can't fault his logic," Lumen says, carefully trying to sound neutral. "Would you have believed him about the whole 'no Aura, no boom' thing if he
hadn't started with such an extreme impression?"
Creme stops, thinking about it for a moment.
"... Won't stop me from being mad at him," she states after a moment. "Admitting you're an arsehole doesn't somehow magically excuse
being one."
Lumen chuckles, conceding the point. The conversation takes a mundane turn after that, thankfully. Ada's found a new artist to keep an eye on, one Kea Nevada- she sends you a link and, even at your usual 20% volume, the song "TRUST NO MOTHERFUCKER FROM THE SKY" just about blasts your eardrums to smithereens.
By the time the auditory flashbang is over and you can hear again, you give it a shaky thumbs up and find the conversation's turned its eyes elsewhere; one eye between Yang and Creme, who are talking about some webnovel you've never heard of and don't feel like splitting your attention to find out about right now, and one eye between Lumen and Blake bickering-
oh no
"Look, I just think The Boy Who Fell From The Sky is overrated. The plot is meandering, the characters are
barely two-dimensional, and the main character may as well be a dildo stuck to a plank for most of the book," he says casually.
"I don't disagree, but I still think it's an important book to read," Blake says. "It challenged the social mores of the time in a way that other authors couldn't- instead of stating an opinion, it just made a point of asking questions and letting the reader answer them."
"... Questions that happened to take the form of a global sex cult."
Do you want to know?
{There
is a library. Take it out sometime.}
Blake rolls her eyes, face slowly warming at your friend's bluntness.
"Yes, questions taking the form of a global sex cult. But no, the idea of human law not applying to outer space is important; Humanity's propensity for colonialism should stop at Remnant if we ever reach the stars. Besides- are you saying the idea of a society ruled by its dead isn't
somewhat narratively interesting?"
Lumen blinks once, staring at the secret catgirl like she's just grown a head.
"... Blake, we live in Vale," he says, with a tone that suggests that should answer all her questions.
"Fair point," Blake concedes with a laugh.
A smile creeps up your face as you quietly sigh in relief.
You didn't even realise that particular anxiety was
on the list.
|||
Eventually, lunch ends, and you part your ways with Lumen and Creme, walking with Ada to the higher halls of Beacon.
"Creepy," Ada says, sticking by you. "how old
is this place?"
By your estimate; roughly as old as Vale itself.
{Honestly, you're not even being that hyperbolic. Before Ozpin moved in and founded Beacon here, this building was a fortress against all the things that lived in the Emerald Forest. Now, they just send in a bunch of bloodthirsty brats every year to cull the population.}
Mm.
Beacon's upper floors make a startling contrast with the sterile, concrete walls of the basement- even the
library isn't this…
academic. You make your way down the hallway, all dark grey marble carved into swooping arches and pillars, noting that there isn't even any electricity up here. The walls are lit by Dust lamps, supplied from brass pipes- Blue informs you that this far up the building, they don't even have
electricity. Along every other wall, stained-glass windows filter the sun through their colours over the stone canvases, old fables and fairy tales the majority of their portfolio.
What do you recognise, here?
The first is mostly dark blue, with black and silvered glass in places to sketch out a silhouette of a woman at night.
{The Warrior In The Woods.}
Oh! You remember that one! Your mother used to tell you it just about every night! You're not entirely sure why.
You don't entirely recognise the next one; many Faunus looking out to sea, at an approaching ship, behind which the sun shines brightly.
{The Shallow Sea. One of the Faunus creation myths. It's… not considered very good taste these days. In recent years, the idea of a magical island to live on separated from all humanity has somewhat soured as a concept.}
Yeesh. You can imagine why.
Before you can investigate every stained glass window, Ada tugs on your arm, getting your attention.
"Jaune, I think we're here."
You turn away from the fable art and look towards your destination- a door of old oak, ancient, but maintained with obvious love, and short enough that you'll need to duck to get through it.
On the wall next to the door is a sign, hanging from the Dust lamp.
Aura Arts 101 students, your first test starts now!
-Professor Peach ♥
"... Well, can't argue with that," you concede, pushing the door open, until it doesn't, and you slam into it shoulder first.
It doesn't even
budge. Testing it, you realise it's stiff enough that you have to brace against it with your shoulder, and even that barely shifts it an inch out of place.
In that moment, in a fit of sheer pique, you decide you are
not being outdone by a
door that makes
Ozpin look like he's in his prime-
The Transistor joins you, pressing the tip of its hilt against the edge nearest the lock and quickly outpacing you in the force department. Not to be outdone, you pull your Aura to the surface, your strength edging into the superhuman. The
instant you do that, you hear a
kchunk somewhere behind the door, and the door flies open.
With you and the Transistor still braced against it.
It recovers with a modicum of grace-
you at least catch yourself against the floor, only just managing to pull your legs up to keep the door from cutting them off as it slams shut at speed behind you.
"Well," you hear a breathy voice say from the other side of the room, "I
am impressed. If you'd actually kept pushing, you might actually have managed to open it through sheer brute force alone."
You push yourself to your feet, and look across the room at who's talking. In the teacher's chair, at the other end of the lecture hall, is the woman you remember seeing earlier this week. Professor Peach is a woman with skin the colour of lightly-roasted coffee, with a dusting of white freckles across the bridge of her nose that reminds you of powdered sugar. She seems to prefer monochrome cable-knit sweaters- today's is seafoam green- and keeps her wavy black hair long and loose, with a few rebellious strands always hanging across her face.
You hear the door click open behind you, and Ada pushes it open as if it weighs nothing at all. She stares at you for a moment, her face blank, before choking back a snort of laughter and taking a seat at the front of the class, rushing away from you before she loses it.
… Oh, you see the trick.
… Do you see the trick?
{Aura locks. Must be why she holds this class up in an old, dusty tower instead of, I dunno, in a sitting circle in the garden, passing a hookah around.}
No professor we've met at Beacon so far has shown a proclivity for smoking.
You go and take a seat next to Ada, trying to ignore the others here- so far, Meri, who seems confused about what just happened, Ren, who doesn't appear to have an opinion on what happened, and fucking
Mel Saff, who just gives you a warm smile and
ugh that is so fucking weird-
{Calm down. Therapy's a helluva drug.}
You know, you know.
Above you, the door gives another
kchunk, revealing Rashmi and Kapila. Your cheeks burn a little hotter as you realise you were probably the only person to try
brute force against a door leading to a class about manipulating
Aura.
{Counterpoint: You're also the only person who
almost won against an Aura lock with pure brute strength.}
... Every cloud has a silver lining.
Once the Vacuoni pair sit down with Meri, Professor Peach stands up.
"Welcome," she says, voice sweet and toasty- like still-warm fudge fresh from the pan. "My name is Moira Peach. You can call me Professor Peach, or Ms Peach, or just Moira- whichever you prefer."
She moves around the desk, standing in front of it as she speaks. Her hands move like a seasoned university lecturer's, knowing exactly where to be and what shape to take to emphasise or contrast her points as she speaks.
"Aura Arts, as you might have guessed by now, does not follow the standard structure of most of Beacon's classes- can I ask, and you absolutely do not have to answer if you're not comfortable with other people knowing- who here is part of the Semblance Counselling program, run by Bartholomew?"
Without a moment of undeserved shame, everyone but Mel and Ren raises their hands. If the sheer number surprises Professor Peach- you know what, no, you're going with
Moira- she doesn't show it. She just smiles, an expression filled with the warmth of an oak fire, and continues.
"Wonderful! Well, most of you will be familiar with the general atmosphere of this class, then; this is, first and foremost, a place for you to explore yourselves as people. You will not be judged on an end-of-year test, or a series of checkboxes to fulfil over the course of a year. So, everyone take a deep breath-"
She stops, waiting for you all to do that.
"-And
relaaaaaax…"
And… out.
… Wow. That
is relaxing.
{We keep telling you to try taking up meditation, man. It works.}
"There…" Moira breathes. "Everyone here knows how to flare their Aura, yes?"
Seven sounds of assent follow, and that same smile comes about.
"I would hope so! For our first lesson, I just want everyone to flare their Aura- as brightly as you can!"
Sounds harmless enough. You breathe out once, the tensing in your abdomen the trigger to bring your Aura out past your skin, a cold white light you have seen and felt and
been every single day for…
… For ten years.
Has it been that long?
"I just want you all to take a moment to look at yourselves and each other."
You look around, seeing what everyone else is working with; Ren's Aura is outright pink, while both Saff and Rashmi's Auras are a shade of yellow, which prompts your former pain in the arse to offer Rashmi a high five. Beside Rashmi, barely visible because of the light show of pink and yellow in front of her, is Kapila; her Aura is a deeper pink than Ren's, almost leaning into magenta.
"Wow," Ada says after a second. "I… didn't expect white, for some reason. It suits you."
You turn and see her staring at you, from behind her own light pinkish-red Aura, and snort.
"Yours is a really nice colour too," you say.
Her eye widens, and even beneath her Aura, you can see her cheeks beginning to flush.
{You'd think she'd been starved of compliments or something.}
You- j- okay
yes but
shut up.
"Look around- do you see that?" Moira asks you all. "That is someone's
soul laid bare. A soul, rendered in light and force, as sword and shield, each and every one as beautiful as the last."
She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. You watch her rub at an eye, warding off tears.
"What is yours like, Professor Peach?" Rashmi asks.
Moira just smiles, a playful little grin letting you in on the joke.
"I suppose it's only fair…" she mumbles, before clapping her hands. "Well, alright. I'll let you experience my Aura."
She raises a finger.
"For one second."
"Only one?" Rashmi asks.
"You'll only
need one," Moira giggles.
… You have no idea what to expect- nor do you have any time to prepare for the unexpected, as Moira Peach takes a deep breath, then exhales.
It is like a
physical force- for a moment, she shines like the sun, her Aura a bright orange that outlines her, before spreading further, washing over you and over the others, pressing your own Aura against your skin. Moira's Aura holds
heat- the kind of heat from the last embers of a woodburning stove, comforting you at the end of a long day, sinking deep into your bones and heating you from the inside out. The
force, you realise, is like hands, gently pressing your shoulders, your arms, your chest- little distinct pockets of force, not like the explosion you expected.
And as quickly as it started, it is over. Her Aura pulls away from yours, hands turning to fingertips turning to nothing, shrinking to just an orange sphere, then… to Moira. She gives a whoop of catharsis, wiping a few hairs led astray by the show out of her face.
"Whew! Haven't done that in a long while!"
Everyone stares at her in dumbfounded silence. For you, at least, that was… an
entirely new experience. You've never seen an Aura that… did more than just
light before.
"... What?" Moira asks, confused by the sudden silence, an awkward smile creeping up her face.
After a long moment of thought, it's Kapila that breaks the silence.
"Why… does your Aura smell of baking pastries?
"
Moira breaks into peals of laughter, only a moment later realising that she can't stop herself. She supports herself against the side of the desk for a good fifteen seconds, before finally getting it under control.
"Ah ha, ha… I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise… it's just… Why did you think that someone's
soul stopped at a
colour?"
It's such a simple question, but it's one that has an immediate effect on the class- none of them
know. It's always been such a
given that Aura is just, 'boop, you have colour-coded superpowers and an appetite like a grizzly bear now, off you trot.' Moira must spot something in your faces, because she gives everyone a sheepish grin, and starts rubbing the back of her head. A few loose strands of hair end up falling in front of her face. You couldn't prove it, you don't think, but you think they might be the
exact same strands of hair as last time.
"Alright, well, I think that's enough demonstrations for today. Let's all take a ten-minute break, and then we'll reconvene and take what we've learned from this into the lesson going forward."
|||
The rest of the lesson after the break passes quickly, and you learn a little more about what's expected of you.
Aura Arts is not a subject, per se- in the sense that, it is not something that is taught, so much as
guided to and then
experienced. It's… an incredibly loose topic, overall, the kind of thing that you wouldn't normally go for, but then…
Well, then Moira flared her Aura for one second, and you saw exactly what learning about this topic will get you.
The bell rings- this far up the building, it's an
actual tower bell that rings to signal the end of class- and everyone gets up to leave.
"Now, no homework for next week, you'll be happy to hear- so just go ahead and enjoy the week, and think a little about what you've learned today!"
It should probably be less of a shock to you that this is the first time in two days you
haven't been held back by a teacher, and you know what, you're leaving before she can change her mind.
Class Quest acquired: Feeling Yourself
It's a simple idea, really; there is more to Aura than its colour. The further you explore that concept, the more control you will gain over your Aura. Every new sensation you add to it is a marker of yet more control- putting more of your soul into it, so to speak.
You're going, to be honest- you're not entirely sure why you're taking this class. Curiosity, you suppose, and to hang out with Ada.
Then again- maybe that's all the reason you need.
Requirement: Complete the class's Downtime Assignments.
Reward: Grant a sense of touch to your Aura.
Downtime:
Beacon's Semesters are broken into Winter and Summer, with Candlemas, the summer holidays, and occasionally a Black Sun Winter to break them up.
Don't worry about it.
Point is, not every week will be so jam-packed full of crap as yours has been. Eventually, you'll find yourself with such a dearth of world-ending shit to worry about that you're actually forced to buckle down and focus on studying, hanging out with friends, or being given a chance to deal with Cloudbank, the Process, and the inevitable political and economical fallout of both of those.
That's what this is for!
There are 19 weeks to worry about between now and Candlemas. Use them wisely.
Or, don't, I'm not your mother.
ALL DOWNTIME VOTES ARE PLAN VOTES
Queued Interludes:
(These occur at some point during the downtime period regardless of your actions.)
- A Curious Case Of The Mondays
- Unique Clock Result: Understanding The Unfathomable
-Music- Gaining An Appreciation For Freeform Jazz
-Civics- A Lesson In Proper Debate Technique, Also Known As: CREME PUT DOWN THE CHAIR CARDIN ISN'T WORTH IT-
Academia:
Every time a class's requirements are met, you will get a short interlude where you will gain information for the end-of-year test. You could go into this test blind, but, why? All class requirements can be fulfilled at any point before the summer holidays for a given year, so don't feel pressured to focus on them just now.
Classes that are marked Mandatory must be completed before the summer holidays.
Classes that are not marked Mandatory may be completed over the summer holidays, but must be completed in order to be taken again next year.
MANDATORY:
[] Combat Instruction (0/3)- Interlude: Watching A Lark Peck A Lord
[] Weapon Upkeep (0/3)- Interlude: The Memories In Metal
[] Grimm Studies (0/3)- Interlude: Professor Peter Port's Problems In Port
[] Dust Alchemy (0/3)- Interlude: Falling Off Your Bike For The First Time
[] History (0/3)- Interlude: A Lesson In Learning From The Past, Also Known As: CREME PUT DOWN THE BENCH DOVE ISN'T WORTH IT-
OPTIONAL:
[] Semblance Counselling (0/1)- Interlude: Explain It Like They're Five
[] Aura Arts (0/3)- Interlude: Feeling Yourself
[] Glyphcraft (0/3)- Interlude: All These Circles Make A Wizard, All These Circles Make A Wizard, All These Circles Make A Wizard-
Friends:
Same deal; fill out the requirement, get an interlude. Different people will be available at different times of the year.
Group options cost 6 weeks, and do not have guaranteed interludes but give the equivalent of 2 weeks of downtime to each person involved. It's a bargain, maybe!
[] Creme Daylaw (0/3)- Interlude: On The Creation Of Halfbreeds
[] Lumen Tessaro (0/3)- Interlude: A Test Drive With The Lads
[] Yang Xiao Long (0/3)- Interlude: Funk Soul Sister
[] Weiss Schnee (0/3)- Interlude: Heiress Of Everest Square
[] Team RWBY (0/6)
[] Team JACL (0/6)- Interlude: Painting The Town Jackal
[] Team PRLN (0/6)
Research:
Books (Must be finished before end of Winter Semester):
[] On The Souls Of Grimm (1/3)- Interlude: The Cost Of A Scientist (Current ???: 3/10)
[] The Golem (1/3)- Interlude: The Cost Of An Outsider (Current ???: 3/10)
Grimm:
(2 Grimm Dossiers Available; unlocks 2 Grimm files with no downtime needed)
[] Nuisance Grimm (0/3)
-[] Rapier Wasps
-[] Gremlins
-[] Black Lilies
[] Common Grimm (0/3)
-[] Alpha Grimm
-[] Boarbatusks
-[] Ursa
[]Uncommon Grimm (0/6)
-[] Beringel
-[] Griffin
-[] The Chill
[] Rare Grimm (0/6)
-[] Hags
-[] The Phoenix
-[] The Shadows
[] Storied Grimm (0/12)
-[] The Tower
-[] Night's Wings, Fury Of A Shattered Moon
-[] The Maiden In The Mirror
[] Visit T̵h̴e̶ ̷L̸i̷b̸r̴a̶r̶i̶a̵n̴
-[] Take Out A Book (Max: 5)
—[] What subject?
-[] Return A Book
—[] Which one?
Miscellaneous:
[Coding Functions, Cloudbank bullshit, Process Order bullshit]
[] Code A Function (1d100 per week of downtime spent):
-[] Write-In
[] Acquire A Contract For Cloudbank Solutions (1d6 base, +1d6 for each sub-option picked: number rolled decides size and difficulty of job)
-[] Build Scale Models (0/3)
-[] Integrate Patents (unavailable until you, you know, patent something)
-[] Research Building Materials (0/3)
Process Orders: CURRENTLY IN PROGRESS
