In an effort to salvage my schedule, I'm going to put up an interlude today. It's quick, it's dirty, and I'll probably get flak about characterisation, but it's something.
|||
To call your landing in the Emerald Forest anything but a mixed blessing would be a lie. And lying really is beneath you.
What isn't beneath you, however, is the ground. No, the ground is mostly above you now. You're not sure how, but after slamming through trees, some psycho throwing their spear at you and piercing your heart, breaking your sternum and you're pretty sure taking out at least one lung, you're not sure what they were trying to do there, you dug a trench through the dirt and now you're in a shallow grave, with a spear in your chest, you think your legs are so much pulp, and you've lost your hat.
Overall, not the best start to your initiation.
You lay there for a moment before your ears pick up the vibrations of someone- female, 200 pounds, weight at least 30% her armour- running towards you.
"Are you alright!?" You hear her say, concern and fear apparent in equal measure in her voice. As is, you're not exactly in a position to say anything. You know, on account of the dirt in your way. You shift, trying to figure out exactly how far below the ground you are and are happy to find that, not only are you about a metre below the surface, her spear's still embedded in your chest.
Just… dandy.
You sit up, shifting the dirt about and away as you begin your trek up to the surface. Just before you break free, however, you stop, thinking for a moment about the sun.
If you remember correctly, the Emerald Forest generally has enough foliage that the sun is more of a weekend visitor than a constant companion for the ground life, but you did take down quite a few trees on your way to say hello to the mole people.
… Meh. You can just take the hit and eat a Beowolf later.
You rise from your impromptu grave to the sight of, firstly, thankfully, shade, and secondly, a redheaded girl wearing bronze armour and a miniskirt with some sort of red cloth drapery to cover her thighs, wielding a round shield with chunks missing from it- you want to say it's a Dipylon but you're not entirely sure- that you can see the razor edge on from here.
As soon as she notices you, and the spear through your heart, and the mess of meat and bone that is your bottom half, she yelps, but quickly claps a hand over her mouth before it evolves into a full-blown scream. She stares at you, forest green eyes wide with fear as she takes everything in. After a moment of that, you watch her begin to quiver, stomach jerking as she turns to retch.
You wince a little as you hear… well, everything she's feeling right now. The overproduction of saliva, her jaw forcing itself as wide as it can go, her stomach cramping in an attempt to bring up whatever's in it up her gullet, driving her to double over, arms wrapped around her stomach for support. First, there is only a dry heave, followed by drool.
"Would you believe me if I said this honestly isn't as bad as it looks?" You ask her between retches. You feel and hear a slight gurgle to your voice that may be something to do with one of your lungs filling with blood. You should probably get that spear out at some point.
She responds with her breakfast finally splattering on the forest floor.
You sigh, leaving the girl to void her last meal, and instead begin extracting the weapon from your chest, grabbing the shaft of the spear and jerking it the other way. It leaves your chest at high speed, the only thing keeping it from embedding itself blunt end first in a tree being your hand catching it by the blade. You lay it to the side, and let your hand heal. You look over the spear, eyeing the seams where the blade and shaft collapse and extend, the scent of gunpowder and oil leaking from the lowest seam of the hilt… Where the bullets are kept, you suppose. If you remember correctly, you saw this girl with a sword in the same colour pattern…
You pick it up again, weighing it in your hands, find the centre of gravity, the tiny marks of use where she holds it in both forms, no oil degradation, odd, either she needs to moisturise more often or she only uses it with gloves on, but you can still see the friction marks, so if you hold it like this then push there-
The blade begins to expand as the shaft shrinks and widens ever so slightly, leaving you with a Xiphos in your hand, not quite weighted properly, but you're not used to weaponry anyway.
Heh. Still got it.
Granted, you've not, really had a chance to lose it, so this was really just to entertain yourself while your legs upgrade status from spilt corn beef to bag of marbles. And, to let the girl- you swear you've seen her somewhere before…
… Oh! She's the Pumpkin Pete girl!
What is her name?
Well, either way, she's finished voiding her stomach, and now she's looking over at you with… not fear, anymore, just, confusion. She almost wipes her mouth with the back of her glove, before deciding against it, and looking distinctly distressed by her quandary.
"Uh-um, ok, ok, this is, um -" She begins, floundering for words to happen and starting to panic when they don't.
"Relax. I'm fine." You call, grabbing her attention, raising the sword in your hand. "Is this yours?"
The Pumpkin Pete promoter stares at it and seems to regain her composure a little.
"Um, yes, it is- are, are you sure you're alright? I mean, your legs..." She looks down at them, and her mouth just hangs open a little as she processes the frankly insane healing process you have going on.
"Were corned beef, yes. And now, they're like bags of gravel. Already, improvement!"
She gags again, fingers coming up to hold in a burp that probably doesn't taste great. You watch her wince a little as the taste hits, sharp and caustic on her tongue if your nose isn't leading you wrong.
"Sorry, too far?"
"Just... just a tad. I'm really sorry about..." She trails off, unsure how to phrase 'impaling you with a spear like I was a primitive hunter and you were a mighty mammoth' politely.
"No, no, really, it was an impressive shot, even if you missed your target. I assume you were aiming for my hoodie?" It made sense if you assume she was, in fact, aiming for you in the first place- unless she's a psychopath looking to remove the competition, which makes no sense, you can only imagine that her intention was to pin you to a tree for... safety? Safekeeping? What?
She blinks, latching onto the question before she focuses on any of the several much less palatable things she could focus on.
"I, I was, yes. You didn't seem to be doing too well in the air, and I thought you might have needed some... assistance. I'm really sorry, I was aiming for your hoodie, then you hit that tree and it threw you off a little..." An arm goes behind her head, rubbing the back of her neck underneath her ponytail as she looks away from you.
Aw. She's getting all flustered. Adorable.
You test your legs out, wriggling your toes, bending your knees, and find they've healed for the most part- you can still feel a couple of fractures around the tibia, but otherwise, you're able to get up. You do so and walk towards her. As you do, you reach into one of your pockets and pull out a tissue, offering it to her.
"Well, no harm done. Here, wipe your mouth off." You tell her bluntly.
She does so quickly, thanking you as she cleans herself up. You almost consider offering her a swig from the flask on the inside of your armour to wash her mouth out with, but somehow you doubt she's an AB negative kind of girl.
"Thank you. I'm, Pyrrha, by the way. Pyrrha Nikos."
Introductions? Well, fair enough. You roll out your joints, letting the muscles relax a little as you limber up.
If you were a better Otopan you might introduce yourself by the name you were given when you discovered that particular heritage. If you were a good Otopan, you might introduce yourself as 「Sahu.」and explain your greatness before taking her as your next meal.
You are not a good Otopan.
"I'm Jaune. Now, tell me, Pyrrha, you haven't seen a floppy hat around here, have you?"
|||
"So how did you manage to hit me with a javelin from that far?" You ask Pyrhha as you begin walking through the forest, hat happily back on your head, taking quick swigs from your flask when you're sure she isn't looking. The fractures in your legs have fixed up nicely, and at this point, you're just drinking it because you're thirsty.
You don't need to look to see her grimace, but she pushes it down and answers you anyway.
"Practice. Normally, I can pin a fly to a wall from a hundred metres, that was just... bad luck." She finishes lamely.
"Good luck." You argue.
She looks at you, a confused look on her face.
"... How on earth was it good luck?"
"If it was anyone else, it would have killed them before they hit the ground. You broke my sternum, pierced my left lung, and pretty much destroyed my heart, and that was just on impact-"
Pyrrha quickly raises a hand, motioning for you to stop as she begins looking sick again.
"Please! I... I get the point." She says meekly.
"My point is, while the shot itself was unlucky, the target you were aiming for wasn't, so it balances out, no?"
She considers the point and begins to nod in an attempt to clear her conscience. You're not sure it works if the still troubled look on her face is anything to go by.
"... How... did you survive all of that? Is it your Semblance?"
Ah. You... wondered when this question would come up. Damn your distaste for lying.
"You know, if I told you the truth, I don't think you'd believe me." You say bluntly.
... It's not lying, you don't think she would believe you. Therefore, not a lie. Simple.
She smiles, giggling a little at the answer.
"I've seen enough today to say I can handle whatever you have to throw at me."
... Well, if she's so sure-
Your ears twitch, you hear the rapid heartbeat of an animal, no, larger, the acrid, smoky stench of Grimm sweat, tromping towards you without even the slightest bit of subtlety. Your mouth begins to water. You... haven't had a good meal in a while. And fresh Beowolf sounds wonderful right about now. You kind of... forget about Pyrrha for the moment.
Timing, the root of all comedy and getting out of awkward conversations. The white-plated canid monster leaps from the trees to your right, and before Pyrrha can react, you're on it, your right hand bending unnaturally against its tendons, tightening wire-tense, before they snap at the elbow, ripping themselves free of your arm and extending to wrap around its neck. You spin at the hips, dragging the Beowolf by the throat and slamming it into a tree, before dragging it in like it's on a lasso. Which, you suppose it kind of is.
Before anything else, you slam a palm into the Grimm's back, breaking its spine and leaving its hind legs limp. If it gives any indication of feeling pain, you don't see it. Unwrapping your tendons from its neck, it wheezes a breath out, and you strip off your hoodie and shirt while it recovers.
"Uh, Jaune, what are you doing? She asks, dragging your attention back to her for just a moment, a mistake that almost costs you fingers. You clamp down on its snout and hold it against the ground.
"Pyrrha, if you're still feeling a little squeamish, you might want to look away." You call back to her out of courtesy, and when she doesn't look away, you decide it's ultimately no skin off your nose.
Now.
Breakfast.
With a thought, your jaw works its way open, the skin on your lips tearing, your cheeks stretching to breaking point as your teeth suddenly take on a much sharper look. You hear Pyrrha screaming, but you don't care, because you are beyond ravenous right now, and lookie!
Food!
You hold the Beowolf down, your body already beginning to dissolve parts of it as you take a chunk out of the back of its neck, killing it almost instantly. You heft its corpse up to your chest and force the cell digestion to quicken, absorbing it as fast as you can before it begins to disintegrate. As it disappears, you begin to feel...
Better. Certainly less hungry.
A sigh of satisfaction on your breath, you don your clothes again, and turn back to Pyrrha- and she's fainted.
Just... dandy.
