*Shrug* Fair enough. In the end the QM's word is Law... as long as they aren't dicks about it anyway. :/
Which you haven't been obviously.
Also it's a better line than most of the world today has.
I'll take that. I've been told I need to get better at putting my foot down when I need to, and this... is somehow simultaneously important enough to be worth saying something on, and also
unimportant enough to the story that people aren't gonna raise a fuss about it, hopefully. Baby steps.
Oh, come on, there's no need to redact that information. It's pretty dang obvious that you're talking about Processing the city, which actually answers a question that I had; whether or not we could Process things/people, or only generate instances of the Process.
Speaking of which, does Jaune know that he can create the Process? And how would we create, say... the
Spine of the World?
I tried to keep up some semblance of secrecy, and that's what matters. And the answer is no, he isn't aware of the Process yet, and how he
becomes aware is simply a matter of circumstance- he awoke his Semblance from being beaten up and having to protect his sister- he built the Transistor because he needed something to stop his Semblance from hurting him.
So why would he need the Process?
And for your second question, by the sounds of it, some great bass work, some snares, and Pyrrha. More seriously, you'll find out when you find out.
Unfortunately, due to technical issues, I wasn't able to write the update last night- that'll be up in the next update slot, so, Wednesday. Updates will probably be slowing down as a whole while I get used to a membrane keyboard again, but I did just write 2000 words with it, so that's a good sign. Instead, however, you're getting that interlude I promised to make up for it!
... Hopefully.
|||
"What are you, brain-dead? Dust!"
Hoh? You look around for the conversation succeeding the clattering of luggage and preceding the telltale sound of Dust leaking through a loose cap- a useful sound, your master said, for knowing when to leave an area promptly. Or, at the very least, to look around and see where the fireworks are going to happen.
'One must learn to take pleasure in the stupidity of others, for it is an endless source of hilarity if cultivated properly.'
... Ah! The girls, one in red and black, the other in white and icy blue, the snow queen lecturing the other on the various types of Dust while shaking a bottle of the substance around, spreading a thin miasma of... fire Dust, you believe? It's red, and you can see smatterings of blue and yellow among the cloud...?
... Oh, sod it, you might as well introduce yourself, no? Readying your legs, you focus on your destination, between the two girls, and...
Go.
Your feet crack the ground beneath them as you reach up, plucking the phial from the pale girl's hands as you come to a stop, shifting the cobbles beneath your feet ever so slightly, unknowingly ruining what was the result of years of aesthetic design.
"Wh- what are
you doing?!" The girl asks, seeming more annoyed that you decided to intervene at all than at the act of theft you just committed. "Why are you-" She looks at her hand for the bottle, only to see her hand. The girl stares at it with the kind of intensity you would only truly stare at your hand with if on the fungi you've seen green devils partaking in while on errands for your master, or indeed, when looking for something that should be there and isn't. She looks towards you as you push the cork down, and, after an experimental shake, consider it 'safe enough.'
You look up at her. She stares at you with a mild sneer on her face as you hand her the bottle back.
"Carelessness is cause for misery." You say as she takes it back, half-quoting your master as you do. "Were these all bottled in the same facility?"
"I- yes, but-"
"You should check them all, then- the corks are loose. You've been spreading Dust around for at least as long as you've been shaking this bottle."
You watch their faces, and how they change slightly as the revelation hits them that
oh gods something very bad could have happened there. More than that, unknown to you, they find your voice- dissonant with your actions, calm, quiet, almost tranquil with every word- mildly unsettling for reasons they cannot quite place.
"... I... well, at least
someone understands how to handle Dust properly." The girl in white says, aiming the jab at the girl in red in some attempt to regain some of her composure.
You hold your tongue, very deliberately
not saying 'and it's not you.'
"I'm really sorry!" The girl in red apologises, her embarrassment clear to you. You're... not sure what
for, honestly. Did something happen before you came along? Probably, but, eh, you don't care. The girl in white pounces on her apology like a predator, launching into a tirade on the young girl's intelligence, age, asking her if she should really
be here, the works.
You won't say you weren't enjoying it
immensely, because you would be lying.
"Hey, I said I was sorry, princess!" Red Girl says, finally fed up with being snapped at. Good, show some fang! You're meant to be a Huntress, not one of Mottom's serving girls!
"Heiress, actually." A girl in black says, walking towards your little party. "Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, one of the largest..."
You stop listening as you stare at the girl, this one in black because apparently monochrome is
in nowadays, and more specifically at the bow atop her head. The bow that seems to twitch by millimetres every now and then at random, regardless of the wind that isn't blowing- not even a slight breeze.
... Curiouser and curiouser.
"Finally! Some recognition!" The girl in white, now dubbed Weiss, gives a smug smile, and you can almost
feel her ego growing.
You could probably cut it with your sword.
"The same company infamous for its controversial labour forces and questionable business partners." Bow girl continues almost impassively, drawing a sputter from the heiress preem, and drawing a needle across her inflated sense of self-importance.
"Wh- how
dare you-
ugh!" She stammers, stomping off without so much as a goodbye.
You step forward, bowing deeply.
"Goodbye, Preem Schnee!" You cry, not...
wholly sincerely. When the stomping intensifies, you find yourself smirking just a little.
"I promise I'll make this up to you!" Red Girl calls after her. She turns to you, looking somewhat grateful. "... Thanks. For the save, with the Dust, and all."
Despite yourself, you find yourself smiling at the gratitude she shows you.
'Help those who seem capable of helping you,' your mind says in lieu of Meti.
"No problem." Your mouth says, choosing not to go down the 'you owe me' route.
"I-I'm Ruby, by the way." Red Girl says after a moment, making two out of three girls whose names you know.
"Jaune Arc Ten Meti." You say, turning to her for the first time since you opened this conversation. "It's nice to meet you, Ruby."
For once, you mean that.
|||
"So... 'Arc' is your last name, and 'Ten Meti' is... what, a title?"
"Of sorts. 'Ten' roughly translates to 'student of.' Meti is my master."
Ruby makes a quiet noise of realisation. "So, since my uncle taught me how to fight, I would be... Ruby Rose Ten Qrow?"
"You were taught by ten crows?" You ask, genuine confusion in your voice.
"What? No! I was taught by my unc...le..." She fixes you with a glare, and you barely hold back laughter, resorting to biting your lip to keep it contained.
You're almost expecting your master's hand to appear out of nowhere and slap the back of your head for making such a stupid joke, even if by accident, and honestly, for once you wouldn't blame her.
"Well, you wouldn't be the first person I've heard of who was trained by animals of some sort."
As you remember that Meti has in fact happily abused her ability to Cut space and time for that exact purpose on more than one occasion, you do grow a touch more paranoid.
"...
Anyway, I was taught by my uncle to use this-" She says, pulling a large red metal case from her waist, which immediately shifts and expands, becoming a giant, mechanical scythe in a matter of seconds.
A... peasant's weapon.
"A scythe." You say to be more diplomatic than your thoughts.
"It's also a customizable high-impact sniper rifle!"
Ah, now
that, is... ha
h. You were almost happy for a second there. Such ignorance would be perfect for learning the art of Cutting, and learning is best done by teaching. She would have made a great student.
"... A gun."
She fixes you with a tiny smirk. "A gun. How about you? What do you have?"
... Well, since she's shown hers, it's only polite, you suppose. You grab the hilt of your sword, drawing its chipped, rusted blade from the scabbard of tightly but haphazardly bound straps of leather and watch the girl's face change from excitement to confusion to abject horror in a frankly impressive timeframe.
Once fully extracted, you bring its rusted tip to your palm, unafraid of injury. Even if you weren't a neonate in the principal art of Cutting, and thus more than capable of touching your own blade with no ill effect, it's so dulled that you doubt you could cut steamed carrots with it. Judging by the cracks along the bottom third, it would probably shatter if you tried.
The perfect tool for your dreams.
"Wh... wha..." Ruby seems to be at a complete loss for words, something about your blade horrifying her on a base level.
"A straight sword, five and a half
kret long, the proper length, owned by my master, fought over by the two of us." You begin telling her about it. "I have cut every hair from my head with this sword- I still bear the scars from the experience. It is my sword, nobody else's, and it is all I will need to practice my arts."
"But... it-it's barely a weapon!" She cries, obviously distressed by the sight of a sword in such a state. "How could your master possibly give you something like that and, and say that's fine!? Something like that would get you killed in a fight!"
"'A blade, sharpened and shined lovingly by a blacksmith who adores his craft and his crafts, is the worst possible tool with which to learn the principle art of Cutting.'" You say, quoting your master as you are wont to.
This confuses the girl.
"... I... I don't get it."
You smile, not entirely expecting her to.
"What I mean, Ruby, is that this is a terrible weapon, as all swords are, and because of that, it is perfect for my purposes." You continue with that dissonantly tranquil voice of yours, setting off all kinds of unconscious warning signals in the girl.
"... What... what purposes?" She asks, switching between confused and unsettled as she waits. Oscillating between them, really, it's almost impressive.
You smile, unknowingly tilting your head to the side as your eyes crinkle shut, and Ruby's anxiety hits a peak. What other reason could there be for learning to strike without thought, without a blade? What better blade to learn Sword Law with than one that cannot cut?
What is a better reason to learn the principal art of Cutting?
"To reach Heaven through violence."
