Hold It In (RWBY/Transistor)
- Thread starter Prok
- Start date
- Crossover
For multiple reasons. Both the "horrible mindset" and the "amazing healer" bit lol
NexysDhyArchen
Throne Breaker
I would, in this brief moment on my phone, like to remind people that Weiss sought out Jaune for security and comfort during the initiation sleepover.
[X] Talk: surely there's someone around here who's playing not-technically-hooky. It'll help you get out of your own head, at least.
-[X] 75% of Team RWBY: you've become... friendly, with most of the girls on RWBY. Basically anyone except Blake could make for decent conversation right now.
--[X] Weiss
I'm not sure if the Weiss votes would just lumped with the general RWBY votes, but I feel like I should specify.
[X] Deal With The Catgirl Currently Stalking You
Also important.
-[X] 75% of Team RWBY: you've become... friendly, with most of the girls on RWBY. Basically anyone except Blake could make for decent conversation right now.
--[X] Weiss
I'm not sure if the Weiss votes would just lumped with the general RWBY votes, but I feel like I should specify.
[X] Deal With The Catgirl Currently Stalking You
Also important.
Protodermis
Hope is an ugly feeling
- Location
- Dirac Sea
I feel dealing with that power cable plot hook sooner rather than later is kinda important given how the Transistor randomly pointed it out with no warning. Might be a big deal.
- Location
- Belfast
So… Catch the Kitty, explain that Jaune is not a mouse, bring her to the library for a spot of reading, then get ambushed by the rest of her team (who may or may not completely misunderstand what happened)?
- Location
- Madness realms
So when are we launching our process seed to the moon to fix it for Weiss?
- Location
- Hyperborea
Out of character, we know what's in one of the Beacon basements already.
No guarantee that the power cables will lead there rather than some other basement, only way to find out is to actually investigate it, which depends on how much of a priority the voters want to make it.
PsyFarrow
Verified Necrodancer
- Location
- Space
Following the cables would almost certainly lead us to Amber's comatose body, yes. But honestly, I'd really like to leave that discovery for later. In the last couple days Jaune's been through a wringer of revelations, and I'd like him to experience at least a little bit of ordinary school life before we toss him another problem to solve.
Prok
Go play Star Fetchers
- Location
- Scotland
Shucks, thanks. If TvTropes didn't look down on authors editing their own pages and such, I'd do it myself (no I wouldn't).
Hey, nice! I found Jukebox The Ghost at a really good time in my life to find a band like Jukebox The Ghost, so I'm glad I've convinced some more people to find out about it.
Fun fact: another idea for this quest didn't make it past the initial draft, but it would have been named Static, from the same album, with much the same tone. I chose not to, because, I wanted to write something that made me feel better, and let me escape all the anger I had at the time.
Maybe, one day, I'll write that interlude when I'm feeling particularly vitriolic at the world outside my window.
... So by next Thursday, then.
Nah- out of character, as far as Ozpin's aware, Amber's still 100% of the person she was when she left Vale. However, I will neither confirm nor deny that the cable leads to a certain high-tech casket.
Either way, voting's now closed, and nothing has changed- dealing with the weird catgirl, reading a dry book, and talking to someone from Team RWBY wins!
Someone roll me a d3.
Kanata.EXE
Programmer
- Location
- Indonesia
The introduction paragraphs need to be reworked, though. When I started it, I was in a hurry, so it looks like that.
I want to rewrite it, but things happen IRL.
NexysDhyArchen
Throne Breaker
Anyone from RW-Y would be interesting, but I declare Weiss as my hope for MAXIMUM SCHNEENANIGANS.
- Location
- Philippines
Reread Ozpin's interlude and I just remembered, has Ozpin showed the recording of his meeting with Jaune to Ironwood yet?
infinityDivided
Prince Of Doom
- Location
- USA
Probably not, he got wasted soon after the meeting and started working on something with an unknown collaborator. And this is the day after, so he's probably trying to recover from his hangover.
[X] Read: you have two books in your bag waiting for you to form an opinion on something. They're not going anywhere, and it's a nice day out, so neither are you.
-[X] Read On The Souls Of Grimm: Ozpin did say to read this first, if only to get it out of the way with. [???: +1] (Current ???: 0)
[X] Deal With The Catgirl Currently Stalking You
ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
If there's not a hangover be gone spell what's even the point of being an immortal archwizard?
Don't forget the part where they helped wreck Junior's club along with Yang and made the Vale news for being a public disturbance.
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CaesriusPolybius
Worldgate Mechanic
- Location
- United States. Ish.
IIRC, the Process' expansion simulations when showed to the Transistor had its growth eventually plateau, with that plateau being the point where there's no more matter on the planet for it to process. The following conversation hinted that neither the transistor nor the process thought that getting a vessel up to the moon was currently feasible. However the transistor and process' antigrav work, they don't think they're suitable for extraplanetary operation.
Which is probably a good thing for balance purposes, too; if we could just yeet a process catalyst at the moon right away, it would be literally all upsides. Assimilation of the moon could proceed uninterrupted at full bore, would allow for easy monitoring of the planet and deployment of process catalysts to any point on the planet as well as process matter for general use, and it would provide a safe bastion for the process to sit on, likely beyond the reach of Salem or any other threats barring the return of the Brothers.
We already have a sword that breaks reality via Math and a baby god, Prok doesn't need even more bullshit to deal with right now.
Eventually, processing the moon is an inevitability if only because of our promise to Weiss, but I really doubt it's something we'd be allowed to be able to do right now.
Edit: although, thinking on it, the fact that it's still shattered after untold aeons means that Brother Dark's bullshit probably still has some effect on it, so. That could prove a significant issue even when we get to it, I do suppose...
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infinityDivided
Prince Of Doom
- Location
- USA
Was rereading and boy, did this not last long.
This is the last (and only other) time it comes up.
This sentence cuts off abruptly.
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Well, I don't want to delete what I wrote, but I really should have fully caught up before posting lol.
Enjoyed the chapter, glad I read the discussion and analysis, especially what Prok confirmed about Oobleck coming on too strong and that being why he's not a practicing psychiatrist. Still really interested in learning more about the blind totally-not-a-prince who definitely-can't-see-the-future and the rest of his team, though seem really cool.
Enjoyed the chapter, glad I read the discussion and analysis, especially what Prok confirmed about Oobleck coming on too strong and that being why he's not a practicing psychiatrist. Still really interested in learning more about the blind totally-not-a-prince who definitely-can't-see-the-future and the rest of his team, though seem really cool.
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BlackRed-Black-Yellow()
Prok
Go play Star Fetchers
- Location
- Scotland
No real excuse this time. It's just getting harder to write. Probably not helped by having the flu. Rest on Sunday or whenever I'm not drowning in snot. Whichever comes first.
… You know, you do have two books to read. Either that or go and find, Bracket, spin a wheel?
The wheel spins and lands on Yang Xiao Long.
A weird choice, but you'll take it. You really could do with some context about your and Weiss's night out, you suppose.
{Read first, let self-directed sparring end, get dinner then see if you can find her there?}
Sounds like a plan to you.
|||
The library is exactly as you remember it, though the lighting has changed. It's not quite dusk yet, but the sun is just low enough to shine in through the windows, warming the building's palette.
You take a deep breath. The air smells like book dust, old parchment, and wood polish. You listen, as the shelves creak gently, the floorboards under your feet as you slip up the stairs to one of the quiet study areas. The whir of library droids putting books back buzzes about below you, like an oversized beehive.
A few days ago, all of that noise was almost unbearable. Now, with time, distance, and the scabs on your brain fully healed, you realise that your sensory overload was probably the result of, well, yeah.
For the first time in days- weeks, if you want to be honest with yourself- you feel yourself begin to relax.
This is a quiet place. This is, and you feel this on some bone-deep level, a safe place. You consider one of the sunlit tables for four, but then Blue shows off one of the library's hidden nooks- between a shelf of reference books of Lord genealogy, and the kind of philosophical works you could substitute for a dry cracker and nobody would notice.
{'Elements on the Philosophy of Wrong.' I dread to think what that could be about.}
And people thought Piranesi was worth destroying.
You snort and enter the stacks once more. The noise up here is muffled- even your footsteps no longer echo, now absorbed by hundreds of pounds of paper and wood. This corridor twists and twirls for what feels like an abnormal distance, no longer resembling the neat, ordered shelves of the library. Something about it, about the cosy lack of space, the smell of old ink and paper, the almost haphazard way it's built, even if it's still all in order…
It's like a second-hand bookstore. The thought of comparing the two where the Librarian can hear you almost makes you snort in laughter.
Eventually, you come across the nook, carved between the shelves and the wall. It's as if someone scooped a dome out of the space there, then replaced it with warm lamps and the kind of plush leather chairs you would need to fish Ada out of. As you sink into the seat, you can't help but let out a quiet sigh of contentment.
It feels… glorious.
01 hops up onto the arm of the chair and nuzzles into the crook of your elbow as you pull the book in question out of your bag.
These chairs are deceptively supportive of your lumbar region!
Yeah, they're good chairs- surprisingly ergonomic for their look. They're exactly the kind of thing you'd expect the librarian to stock her cosy little nooks with.
On The Souls Of Grimm, by Piranesi, is a deceptively thin book- it can't be more than 300 pages, and even that's an optimistic count. Its cover is a simple blue faux leather, with gold lettering on the front and spine. Based on the style alone, you suspect this book is older than you are.
Still, you turn a lamp on and thumb it open. The foreword, written by some historian you've never heard of before, notes that On The Souls Of Grimm was not written as a book; like most works attributed to him, it was a section of one of Piranesi's journals, and collected, related writings that he sent to other people. Efforts have been made to ensure that as much of the material is on-topic as possible, but as with all of Piranesi's collected writings, this is more art than science.
|||
On The Souls Of Grimm, by Piranesi
The Age of Bright Arts, Year 52, Month Of Falling Water, Week 2, Day 8 *
My studies on the subject of Grimm began with my usual method of research: delving into ancient tomes and scrolls in the library. Unfortunately, most of what I found was either too vague or conflicting to be of any actual use, or solely focused on their weaknesses.
Humanity is obsessed with trying to destroy the Grimm; it does not desire to understand them. Even talking to the soul-blessed knights yielded no greater understanding. They did not care to learn about Grimm, beyond their strategies and weaknesses. This, alongside the rising price of shellfish, has vexed me greatly...
[Two full pages are devoted to Piranesi's frankly impressive ire at the cost of fresh mussels from the market, and devising what is vaguely recognisable as a method of rope farming.]
I wandered through the forest, pondering how to best approach this quandary when I was accosted by a Grimm of some size and some advanced age. Even using the glyphs of Padfoot I had sewn into my socks to attempt to escape it, it still would not cease chasing me. Eventually, I stumbled into a cave and chose to trap it there instead. Using the following glyphs, I bound it in place, unable to escape, and strengthened the rock so it could not merely destroy the physical moorings:
[DIAGRAM CENSORED BY ORDER OF THE JADE BUREAU]
The Grimm ceased fighting, once it realised it was trapped. Intelligence notable, if not otherwise lack of determination- wild foxes will chew their limbs off to escape a trap. This Grimm has shown no such attempts.
Subject 1 has been acquired. Testing will begin tomorrow.
|||
[The next section appears to be a letter, dated about a month after the initial entry. It is addressed to a correspondent of Piranesi's; no surname is provided, but is presumed to be Maram al-Amin, one of Piranesi's contemporary philosophers, and suspected occasional lover, though no concrete evidence has been found of such a relationship. It details the results of his various experiments on Subject 1; now named 'Penseur.']
Maram, my Sagithol-lit Caprist knight,
Should this letter find you, I hope it finds you well. It seems that these days, I am only either asleep or missing you. Every step I take away from you hurts as much as the first.
I understand that you reacted to my last correspondence with concern. I hope you'll forgive this part of me, too; I wish to assuage those concerns by informing you of my progress in recent months.
Penseur is, as of now, the only Grimm I have ever had the pleasure of studying, but even this singular opportunity is fascinating in what it has taught me. After the first few days of escape attempts, which I dissuaded it from via positive punishment. Once it had given up on that, I rewarded its behaviour by removing the negative stimulus.
Were you aware that Grimm could learn like dogs? Via the use of reinforcement and punishment?
One of the soul-blessed knights told me that some Grimm do not enjoy sunlight- that is why the lush plains of southern Sanus are almost Grimm-free. As such, I set up a simple mirror system to diffuse sunlight into the cavern as a punishment when it attempts to escape.
I would come in every day, and reset the mirrors manually, plunging the cave into mere torchlight. Within a week, I no longer had to do so.
It understands pain. It understands the cessation of pain.
When I brought it a bale of hay, it tore it apart. The next day, it had fashioned itself a nest to sleep in. Does it enjoy sleeping out of boredom, perhaps? Is it conserving its energy?
Penseur, at least, appears more like an animal than any mere Beowolf. I believed, then, that Penseur has some understanding of the qualities of the world. That hay is comfier than stone, and that sunlight is repulsive compared to torchlight.
Now- I know that it is capable of understanding the world around it.
I began to feed it- partially out of curiosity, and partially because I felt somewhat bad eating my lunch in front of it while it sat there with nothing.
This proved to be a very useful reward scheme, to use in later tests. I have tested many meals; carnivorous, of course. Penseur prefers cooked meat to raw, and stone dove* to both beef and pork. I was unable (and before you say anything, my dear, unwilling) to procure a human corpse for testing purposes.
Still, Penseur's preference for roast stone dove is helpful for both transport, and my coin purse.
My second experiment was whether or not it could learn. I set up some bowls, two empty, one filled with stone dove, all covered with small plates. I showed them the bowl with a stone dove in it, then shuffled them around with some basic glyphcraft. I am not enough of a fool to put myself in arm's reach of a Grimm, even one that has so far been quite amenable to my tomfoolery. At first, it appeared to not understand that the bowl had moved- or, perhaps, it was just curious about what was in each bowl, before going back to the stone dove. It required further testing.
For my second test, the next day, I drew something in the dirt of the cave floor- a symbol of the stone dove that Penseur enjoyed so much, matched with the pot that contained such. They looked into the pot, took their reward, and then I switched it with a pot full of stones. They learned quickly what the symbol for a stone dove was, and below that, I wrote the word.
Next, I sealed the pot with a glyph and gave Penseur a set of wooden blocks with letters, the same toy we bought your son. It would not open unless it used the blocks to spell the word 'DOVE.'
It learned this within minutes. Then, "ROCKS."
"POT."
"ME."
"ME. PENSEUR. YOU. PIRANESI."
Let me change your world in a few words, my darling; I am now the first person on Remnant to open a line of communication with the Grimm.
Your Geminian-lit Aquarian prince,
Piranesi
[Through advanced imaging techniques, a further statement was found in the margins of the letter- most of it is fragments of poetry, and only one full sentence has been successfully recovered.
"Missing you is the tide."]
|||
{Hey. Sparring's over. Wanna go find Yang?}
You jar into awareness, so engrossed in the book that you feel like you're coming out of a trance.
"Uh, y-yeah, yeah, let's do that."
You feel the digital equivalent of a raised eyebrow from the Transistor as you extricate yourself from the seat.
{Lien for your thoughts?}
You shake your head, trying to digest what you've read and form an opinion on it already.
"... Honestly? I'll be shocked if this book doesn't end with 'and then Penseur escapes and kills Piranesi.'"
Blue snorts.
{Come on, you know what I mean.}
You sigh, because you do know what he means.
"... I kinda hope it ends in nothing. Is it wrong for the idea of a Grimm learning to feel like a human… to scare me?"
You know the old stories, of course- Grimm, now extinct, that took the form of humans, or at least close enough for government work, to lure people into the woods, or infiltrate villages…
Well, they're extinct for a reason, now. For some reason… people know Grimm when they see them. They can act as human as they like, but people always knew.
Of course it's not wrong. The idea of a Grimm that could infiltrate human society would be horrifying. Even ignoring the most basic utility of a perfect infiltrator as just a serial killer or a sower of discord, imagine one running for office. Well, in a democratic Kingdom.
A shiver goes up your spine, and you don't even feel up to the boilerplate joke of 'well they couldn't be any worse than who's in power now.'
Still- it's an interesting book. You've already seen a Grimm act as animalistic as, a wounded deer. Perhaps…
Perhaps becoming humanlike isn't as huge a step. Humanlike doesn't trigger that same shiver of fear, you can still- approach the subject, somewhat objectively.
So… yeah. You're curious. Curious enough to keep reading another time, at least.
On The Souls of Grimm: Part 1 of 3 Complete.
??? +1.
Current ???: 1/10
|||
You start to wander through the halls of Beacon, not really taking any particular route- just enjoying the act of travelling without a destination in mind. The time is around 6:30, and the sun is starting to settle into dusk. Your shadow is long, and the stained glass windows paint the hallway in a playful light. Yang wasn't in the food hall, that or you missed her by a few minutes, so instead, you're just… wandering around. Maybe you'll find her, maybe you won't.
However, for the first time in a while… you don't mind. Turns out sitting down and just relaxing by yourself for the first time in months, if you're honest with yourself, was pretty darn good for your mental health.
{You're an introvert by nature, Jaune- and you've surrounded yourself with people who take up your time and energy. Not unfairly so, but… you've been running that well dry recently. There's nothing wrong with taking some time out for yourself.}
You sigh.
Something's wrong.
You don't phrase it as a question anymore; it's just a statement.
Blake's about twenty metres behind you and trying to stalk us.
OH COME ON YOU WERE BEING HYPERBOLIC-
{Technically nothing is wrong! She's just following us! Not armed!}
… But she is following you.
She is following us.
{Do you wanna confront her?}
No, no. She'd just run if you turned around and confronted her. You need to be a little smarter about this. By smarter, you of course mean pettier.
{There's a turn coming up, slip around it when we say and she won't see you take it.}
Your lips quirk up into a little smirk, the idea just the right amount of messing Blake about for…
You stop for a moment. Rack your brain for this one. Blake… has done… Blake has done… n… nothing, to you?
{Correct. What's your point?}
… Why are you messing with someone who's never done anything to deserve it?
{Jaune, she is… actively stalking you. Like, at this exact moment.}
Well, yeah, you've moved on to thinking about whether or not you've done anything that might warrant being stalked.
You did make a vague allusion to possibly knowing about her ears yesterday.
What wh-
A recording appears in the corner of your eye of you saying that Blake was still listening when Yang and Ruby were about to faint.
You- that's- but- that's nothing! That's barely anything at all! You certainly didn't mean it that way!
{Jaune, she's a Faunus doing her best to pass as human and a former active White Fang member at that. Paranoia is kind of her wheelhouse. Anyway, turning off or not?}
You're turning off, she's stalking you for a reason, and you want to know what it is because if it's that, you're going to have a very long talk with her about priorities. You walk forward for a few more seconds, slipping down the corridor when Blue says to.
The sound of rapid footfall soon follows and Blake turns the corner to find you leaning against the wall, waiting for her. She stalls just before she slams into you headfirst, leaving her standing there, eyes wide in slight confusion.
"You know, I did that with the sincere hope that you weren't following me. So how about we start with why you were following me, and see where we go from there?"
Blake stares at you, wide-eyed, everything in her stance screaming she's considering bolting without a word. So, you don't move, you don't make any threatening motions, you just stand there, quietly waiting for an answer. When she seems to realise that you're not going to rip her head off or something, she swallows, her eyes hardening after a moment of uncertainty.
"... I overheard a conversation you had, and I wanted to make sure you were telling the truth."
How delightfully vague.
"And what conversation did you overhear that warrants stalking me?"
"'I don't research people unless I have a very good reason.'"
You blink, and Blue helpfully pulls up the conversation you had with Lumen right outside the ruins that held the chess pieces.
… Okay that's a way better justification than what you thought she was running on, you have to give her that.
"And what do you have to hide that could possibly be a good reas-"
She scoffs, cutting you off, and it stuns you enough that it works.
"Don't patronise me. People who can spy on other people always find a good reason to do it."
… See, the worst part is that, yeah. She's entirely right. You, genuinely can't argue with that logic, especially when you remember that she does have things to hide.
"... Alright, I'll take that. But whatever it is you're trying to hide- it's none of my business."
"Is that why you went to talk to Ozpin last night?" she snaps back at you.
Now it's your turn to scoff.
"Now who's spying on who?"
Blake freezes, wincing a little as she realises what she just admitted to.
{This isn't going anywhere productive.}
He's right. You take a deep breath and try your best to focus on moving this conversation along.
"Look- I'll be upfront. Yes, I probably know things about you that you don't want me to-"
Blake's head whips up, an angry snarl on her face, but you put your hands up to stop her before she goes any further.
"But, it was… pretty much entirely accidental."
"... How can it be accident-" her eyes flick to the Transistor, and she goes silent for a moment.
It surprises you when Blue speaks up for a change; you've been under the impression that he thinks of speaking to people other than you and your team as something akin to eating an entire, living frog.
"{Hi. Yeah, I kinda, uh… told him. Like, the two big things you don't want anyone to know about. Before you get mad, I wasn't exactly in full control of my faculties at the time. I was just cleaning house, and… found your file. That's all.}"
Blake sputters at the interruption, at Blue's explanation, and at the admission that you do know what's up with her.
"That's all? You-you rifled through my life, exposed my secrets, threw it all in a,- in a file, and all you have to say for yourself is that's all?"
The Transistor stills, its red eye dimming for a moment. You can feel the twinned irritation in the back of your head; a thrumming, buzzing thing, almost like a hornet's nest, or the sound of a circular saw through wood.
"{Remember how you said people who can spy on other people will always find a good excuse for it?}" Blue asks almost placidly.
Blake just stares at him silently, too angry to speak.
"{My reason for doing anything is to protect Jaune. That is the only reason I will ever need. You want to begrudge me what I did, that's between you and me. But Jaune is, bar the burden of knowledge, entirely undeserving of your attitude.}"
The sharp tone in Blue's voice cuts through Blake's anger like a set of tailor's scissors through silk. She seems to deflate, and you're left stewing in awkward silence for a few moments. She seems… genuinely unsure about how to proceed.
"... Do… you wanna talk about it?" you venture, trying to break the atmosphere before it settles permanently.
"Why? You know everything that happened, don't you?"
She doesn't quite snap at you, per se, but Blake is very obviously quite frustrated with this entire situation, and you'll admit to being quite tempted into just rolling your eyes and walking away with a similarly not-quite-snappy parting remark. That's not fair, though.
It doesn't take a genius to realise she's waiting for you to twist this to your advantage. Blake isn't envisioning nice things happening as a result of this conversation. She's just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
You won't lie, after all of this, you're kinda tempted to prove her right. Nothing much, just something stupid, like teaching you how to improve your handwriti- that's, not a half-bad idea, actually, you've seen Blake's handwriting, it's almost as good as Weiss's.
… Later, and not as blackmail.
"I know two things about you, Blake- that you are a F-"
She shushes you very quickly, eyes wide with fear.
"Relax. This entire part of the school is dead, right now. You are, an F-word, the better one of the two, and you are… a former WF member. I have no context for anything beyond those two facts. So… sell yourself to me."
She blinks, eyes crinkling in confusion.
"What?"
"I have tried my best not to judge you based on those alone because Gods know that's gotten me into trouble before, and I want to go away from here today with at least a decent impression of you, so… give me something else to work with?"
Blake gives you a blank look, blinking slowly as she comes to some realisation about you.
"... Sorry, I just… want to be clear here. You, knew I was, what I am, and you…?"
"Functionally don't care, yes. You wanna know one of the things you learn real quick when you always have good reason to spy on people?"
She narrows her eyes.
"What?" she asks, suspicion plain in her voice.
"It's pretty easy to find a good reason to do anything. Come on, you hungry?"
|||
Turns out Blake could eat. That burger you had for lunch is still sitting like a rock in your stomach, so you opt for a lighter option- well, relatively. A salade Niçoise, with roasted salmon instead of tuna; green beans; butter lettuce; and a dash of thick red wine vinegar and mustard emulsion for dressing. Blake opted for the same, though she is blushing just a touch as she looks at it, and you can't think why-
{Jaune. Cats? Fish?}
Well Creme isn't a vegetarian, is she?
Neither are deer.
… Wait, what?
Deer are opportunistic carnivores. They may not seek meat out specifically, but they won't turn their nose up at it, either, when they're hungry.
In the corner of your eye, an incredibly distressing video plays, involving a deer and an injured bird that had fallen out of its nest.
Truly, the Brothers were a kind and empathetic force.
{Do you want a palette cleanser?}
Yes, please.
In the same corner of your eye, a video involving a bunch of ferrets and a box full of packing peanuts begins to play.
Ah. Perfection.
You've taken your dinner outside, to, funnily enough, the same cloistered garden you had your last deep conversation in. What is it about this place that draws you to it?
{You know it's here, and you know it's private. Now break the ice, she's obviously not in the mood to do it.}
I don't think she's ever in the mood to do it.
"So," you start, shutting your digital friends up, "What led you to join the White Fang?"
Blake flinches as if expecting something bad to happen just from uttering the organisation's name. When the sky doesn't fall on your heads, she takes a deep breath, steeling herself for a very long conversation.
"... It wasn't… always so bad, you know," she says hesitantly.
You do know, actually- part of the research you'd inevitably done the night after Creme poured her worries out for you involved looking up the White Fang. In retrospect, the fact that they were a peaceful organisation, one, makes 'White Fang' make a lot more sense, and two, really just kinda… makes you a little sad.
They wanted peaceful change, and people drove them to terrorism. Brothers. It was only about five years ago when Ghira Belladyou have got to be fucking kidding.
OKAY. FILING THAT ONE AWAY. DON'T BRING IT UP SHE'S ALREADY PISSED AT YOU.
But, it does help you make a little more sense of the situation as it stands.
"I know they used to be peaceful, until about five years ago, when the former leader stepped down and a less moderate one took his place. Sienna Khan militarised the organisation, and it's been a downward spiral since."
Blake stares at you with surprise, blinking it away after a moment.
"Um. Yeah. Did you look all this up?" she asks hesitantly.
"You're not, my first run-in with the organisation, so, I've looked into it before."
She narrows her eyes a fraction, sitting deep in thought. Now that you've sat down with her, you realise that she's way more expressive than you expected. For someone who doesn't go out of their way to socialise outside of their team- yes, yes, pot, meet kettle- she's nowhere near as guarded about what she's feeling as you imagined.
That or she's unaware that she's all but holding up a sign declaring what she's feeling. Very possible.
"Well… yeah. You know they used to not be violent, and… that's what I grew up with; protests and boycotts. I was holding up placards as a little girl, not, firebombing stores."
You take a bite, mulling that over as you chew. The salmon is lovely, gently pulling apart at the lightest touch, which is very nice with the snap and crunch of the green beans and lettuce. The acid of the red wine vinegar dressing helps to cut through the richness, and the end result is a very light and refreshing meal.
"... I joined because I wanted to make a difference. I left, because… things changed. W-we never- I, never, wanted to hurt innocent people, Human or otherwise. Other people… didn't care so much. Soon, people… left Faunus alone, but not out of respect. Just… out of fear of reprisal."
That 'didn't care so much' is doing the work of the giant that holds Remnant out of the sea. You've heard the stories, of course, but you've also seen firsthand the White Fang's new approach to civilian casualties.
"... So you left because of a difference in opinion," you say, succinctly summarising what she's saying.
She laughs through her nose, an actual smile gracing her face before she finally eats some of her salad. You watch with more than a touch of amusement as she closes her eyes, exhaling in pure pleasure. When she finishes that bite, she continues.
"Yes, I suppose I left because of a difference in opinion," she repeats lightly. "So… what now?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know I'm a F-" she cuts herself off, before lowering her voice a touch, "an, f-word, and… what I did, and why I left. I can't exactly stop you from telling anyone without getting into a fight that I'd rather not get into, so…"
You shrug, revelling a little in the confusion on her face.
"Blue, has she lied once during this entire conversation?"
"{Lies of omission, maybe. She certainly left out a lot of details, but she's been truthful for the most part; especially about leaving due to a difference in opinion. I wouldn't rank her an active danger.}"
Blake stares at your sword for a moment, apparently having forgotten that it could speak.
"S-so, that's it? You just, decide that I'm not a danger to people, and that's the end of it?"
"Blake, there was never a start to it. Unless you were going to harm people, I never really intended to chase this up beyond having a conversation like this with you. And, you're not, so I don't… care about what you were. I-" you laugh a little, running your fingers through your hair. "Look, I want you to know that I'm saying this as politely as I can, but… I have enough on my plate without adding you to it. If you need me to like, come with you for like half a day to go and punch someone in the face, sure, if you wanna talk, fine, but… I don't think you can count on me for long-term emotional support."
She blinks, entirely unsure how to take what you've just said. For a moment, she appears to have no idea what to say at all.
"... Th…ank you, I suppose," she says hesitantly. Her yellow eyes flick to the Transistor for a moment. "... I suppose you'd rather I didn't tell anyone about… Blue?"
"{Blue, yes. He named me when he was 11, cut him some slack.}"
Blake snorts out a little giggle, and you have to fight down a hot flush of embarrassment.
"Well, Blue, I'm… I, apologise, for being so angry at you earlier. You were, just trying to protect a friend-"
"{People are touchy about their privacy. I don't expect to be forgiven for what I do, so I'm not sorry about it.}"
You wince a little at that, and almost expect Blake to, quite rightfully, explode again.
"{But,}" Blue continues, "{I did give Jaune the raw data I found, without finding everything necessary to… well, make it more than data. I took it out of its true context, and that, I apologise for.}"
Blake's eyes glitter with amusement for a moment, quietly accepting your friend's apology.
"To answer your question- yes, very much so. AI, especially ones as generalised as the Transistor, are… a touchy, unexplored topic. I'd rather it stay under wraps until I'm ready to deal with the reveal myself."
You're still not entirely sure what'd happen if you made the announcement, and told people that hey you just made an AGI, a thing that thinks and acts as a human does without any of the physical limitations or metaphysical markers that generally mark a normal, healthy human.
You imagine it involves either the digital equivalent of vivisection or a very large, smoking hole in the ground where the research facility was, with the Transistor in the centre of it. At least the Process is a little beyond that, by this point. Her lips quirk into a little smile as she slowly finishes her salmon.
"Looks like we both know something the other would rather keep under wraps. Shall we just call it… ships passing in the night, and leave it at that?"
You can't stop yourself from smiling back.
"Sounds like a deal."
|||
With your dinner finished, you find yourself wandering the halls again, though this time with an actual- if floating- destination in mind. Yang. Even though she was chosen, essentially at random, you're quite taken with the idea of hanging out with her for a couple of hours.
{Do you want me to order the wedding rings now?}
You silently roll your eyes at the Transistor, not rising to the bait. No, you just want to find out about what happened, uh… last week. God, it still messes with you that that was less- just over a week ago, now.
Time is an odious concept. Anyway- why do you want to talk to her about that, anyway? We have a perfect record of the events that occurred anyway.
They have a perfect record of you and Weiss acting like a pair of drunken fools. No, you want her version of events.
{Well, yeah, we have that too. But, fair enough, it's 7:00. She's probably back in the dorms if she's anywhere.}
Fair enough. You wander back and eventually find Yang making her way back too, with Ruby in tow.
"Yang, do you have notes for Grimm Studies? I, er, wanna compare," Ruby asks her sister.
"You want to copy, you mean," Yang replies.
"I have notes," you call out. "I don't mind you copying them."
You still need to get around to collating your notes and sending a cloud link to everyone, actually. That way, nobody's falling behind.
{Including Dove and Cardin?}
Yes, them too. Well, maybe vet their contributions, before merging them.
Ruby snaps to look at you, giving a wide grin.
"Jaune! Thank you!" she says, sounding genuinely relieved. "I was, uh…"
"Distracted," Yang finishes flatly. "Too busy doodling."
Ruby winces, but the ghost of a smile on Yang's face makes it obvious she's not actually all that mad about it. You try to remember what it was she'd drawn-
Ah. Yes.
"Yes, I saw Professor Poop," you tell her, trying to keep your voice warm.
Damn near broke you, honestly. A lack of sleep makes anything funnier, it turns out.
Ruby just gives an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Yeah, well, I mean, I didn't dislike Professor Port, it's just… I know how to kill Grimm! I don't need someone to give me instructions on how to do it! Or, well… that's what I thought."
"And now?"
"Well… I dunno. I guess I haven't really been taking this whole team leader thing too seriously, and now I'm just… trying to catch up to where I should be, I guess. Does that make sense?"
You smile. You remember Weiss throwing something of a tantrum in the halls at being juked out of team leader like that, then lunch happened, and they both came back seeming significantly less angry. Not with each other, per se, but, in general.
Gods, you love it when problems resolve without your input.
"No, I get it."
With a few flicks of your eyes, your notes, sources, and helpful AI-generated diagrams are collated into a neat little rich text document and sent to Ruby's Scroll, which pings out a jaunty little tune. Ruby pulls it from her skirt pocket and clicks the link. You get a notification for a connection to the Transistor's public-facing server to your Grimm Studies notes file, and you watch in amusement as her eyes flick through the entire thing in seconds. Her grin widens the entire time, and when she's done, she slaps her Scroll closed and looks at you with genuine relief in her eyes.
"I-is the library still open? I wanna print this off!"
"It's open until curfew, last I checked."
Ruby gives a happy little squeal and thanks you profusely, then there is only a vague outline of rose petals, quickly dragged into the young girl's slipstream.
Yang stumbles a little, her hair suddenly way more windswept than it was a moment ago. She struggles to pull it away from her eyes for a moment, chuckling a little to herself when a single purple-
{Lilac.}
-shut up, eye peers at you through her hair.
"Dang, must have been some pretty good notes. I think that's the second time I've ever seen her get excited at schoolwork."
"What was the first?" you ask, curiosity demanding an answer.
"Uh... I guess, technically, when Uncle Qrow started teaching her how to fight with a scythe."
… Uncle Qrow? He had nieces and never told you? Oh, you are absolutely giving him shit for that next time you see him. But for now, you actually did come here with something in mind, so you'll shove that to the side for later.
"Hey, so, um… do you mind if we talk? I, uh, have some questions that I'm hoping you might have the answers to."
"No, as far as I know, you and Weiss didn't do anything past first base, she asked me the same thing," Yang says as casually as she would answer a question about the weather.
Lacking a glass of water, you instead manage to spit take air. That's impressive in and of itself, and, guessing by how loudly Yang is laughing, downright hilarious. Once you're finished coughing up a lung and Yang's finished laughing herself into a cracked rib, she takes a breath and sighs.
"Alright, alright, what did you wanna know?" she asks.
"Well, er, it is about me and Weiss, actually. I wanted to know… what you remember of, uh, the first time you met us."
Yang just raises an eyebrow in silent curiosity, before comprehension dawns.
"Riiiiiight, you two were absolutely blasted, I remember. Uh… we should probably sit down for this. Come on," she says, leading you down the hall to team RWBY's room.
|||
You walk in, take one look at the 'bunk beds,' and quietly thank the Brothers that you don't actually keep any of your aneurysms after they happen because otherwise, you would have dropped the moment you saw them. It's mainly the idea of those books being forced to take the entire weight of a bed compressed into two points that stress you; they're going to be pressed back into an unreadable block of wood by the end of the week. But don't even get you started on the bed that's been turned into a hammock, hanging from four hooks on the ceiling along with a curtain futzed into the covers on a four-poster bed.
However, it doesn't stress you out anywhere near as much as it stresses out 01. The digital squeal leaves your ears ringing a little as 01 tumbles down your shoulder, eventually landing on the floor with a sound you can only describe as tink.
"No! No no no no no! Very unstable! Very unsafe!"
"Uh, I mean, we've slept in it alright, we just put Weiss and Ruby in the top bunks, and they're lighter than me put together-"
But it's too late; 01 is on the warpath against… badly constructed, impromptu bunk beds?
… You know it's a stupid hill to die on and yet here you are, dying on it with the little guy-
01 floats off at speed, before climbing the bedframe with surprising dexterity, wrapping its petals around the pole and clacking its way up. You watch curiously, genuinely unsure what its plan is just yet. Of all the methods you expected your Cell to take, just yanking the books free and Processing a rod in their place like some kind of magic trick wasn't on the list. You watch as it does this again before it materialises six, doing it all at once and also taking the place of the books, morphing into more poles. You sense the same thing happening under the four-poster's curtain, giving it actual structure to drape over.
Within 30 seconds, Team RWBY's health and safety-noncompliant setups are replaced with what you honestly would not have guessed wasn't a set of bunk beds beforehand.
"There! Much safer now! Chance of collapse reduced to negligible risk."
Yang snorts, gently shaking her head as a little smile creeps up her face.
"Well, that's good to know," she says, amusement clear in her eyes. She launches herself onto a bottom bunk and lands her head on the pillow, hands behind her head. "Ah… it's great to finally get into bed after a long day."
She creaks an eye open, staring at you with a sly little smile full of enough implications to fill a small novella, and you suddenly understand why she and Creme get along so well.
"I'll sit, if you don't mind," you say, forming a Process equivalent to that chair from the library and happily sinking into it.
Yang pouts, says you're no fun, and you sigh in relief that stonewalling still works. You don't, really have a plan B for that.
"So- what do you wanna know?"
"Well… a general overview of events would be nice. Why the fight started, how we got involved, maybe if I should be worried about any property damage suits coming my way…?"
Yang snorts, before launching into a little giggle fit as if you'd said something funny instead of asking perfectly reasonable questions.
"Oh, man, you really have no idea where you and Weiss got absolutely smashed, do you? That was Junior's."
You blink, and Yang elaborates with an eye roll.
"Junior? Hei 'Junior' Xiong?"
Known associate of Roman Torchwick, and leader of the Xiong family. Half the police work for him.
The other half?
Torchwick, probably.
{Club… looks clean, actually- probably a business front, but the actual bricks and mortar were bought with clean, traceable money, regular income reports- Brothers, he even pays tax on it.}
What a dedicated gangster.
"Look, all you gotta know is, Junior ain't going to the police for that. That would require him to talk to the police."
{The police that he owns.}
Mm. The curse of knowledge descends upon you once more.
"But yeah, it went a little something like this…"
… You know, you do have two books to read. Either that or go and find, Bracket, spin a wheel?
The wheel spins and lands on Yang Xiao Long.
A weird choice, but you'll take it. You really could do with some context about your and Weiss's night out, you suppose.
{Read first, let self-directed sparring end, get dinner then see if you can find her there?}
Sounds like a plan to you.
|||
The library is exactly as you remember it, though the lighting has changed. It's not quite dusk yet, but the sun is just low enough to shine in through the windows, warming the building's palette.
You take a deep breath. The air smells like book dust, old parchment, and wood polish. You listen, as the shelves creak gently, the floorboards under your feet as you slip up the stairs to one of the quiet study areas. The whir of library droids putting books back buzzes about below you, like an oversized beehive.
A few days ago, all of that noise was almost unbearable. Now, with time, distance, and the scabs on your brain fully healed, you realise that your sensory overload was probably the result of, well, yeah.
For the first time in days- weeks, if you want to be honest with yourself- you feel yourself begin to relax.
This is a quiet place. This is, and you feel this on some bone-deep level, a safe place. You consider one of the sunlit tables for four, but then Blue shows off one of the library's hidden nooks- between a shelf of reference books of Lord genealogy, and the kind of philosophical works you could substitute for a dry cracker and nobody would notice.
{'Elements on the Philosophy of Wrong.' I dread to think what that could be about.}
And people thought Piranesi was worth destroying.
You snort and enter the stacks once more. The noise up here is muffled- even your footsteps no longer echo, now absorbed by hundreds of pounds of paper and wood. This corridor twists and twirls for what feels like an abnormal distance, no longer resembling the neat, ordered shelves of the library. Something about it, about the cosy lack of space, the smell of old ink and paper, the almost haphazard way it's built, even if it's still all in order…
It's like a second-hand bookstore. The thought of comparing the two where the Librarian can hear you almost makes you snort in laughter.
Eventually, you come across the nook, carved between the shelves and the wall. It's as if someone scooped a dome out of the space there, then replaced it with warm lamps and the kind of plush leather chairs you would need to fish Ada out of. As you sink into the seat, you can't help but let out a quiet sigh of contentment.
It feels… glorious.
01 hops up onto the arm of the chair and nuzzles into the crook of your elbow as you pull the book in question out of your bag.
These chairs are deceptively supportive of your lumbar region!
Yeah, they're good chairs- surprisingly ergonomic for their look. They're exactly the kind of thing you'd expect the librarian to stock her cosy little nooks with.
On The Souls Of Grimm, by Piranesi, is a deceptively thin book- it can't be more than 300 pages, and even that's an optimistic count. Its cover is a simple blue faux leather, with gold lettering on the front and spine. Based on the style alone, you suspect this book is older than you are.
Still, you turn a lamp on and thumb it open. The foreword, written by some historian you've never heard of before, notes that On The Souls Of Grimm was not written as a book; like most works attributed to him, it was a section of one of Piranesi's journals, and collected, related writings that he sent to other people. Efforts have been made to ensure that as much of the material is on-topic as possible, but as with all of Piranesi's collected writings, this is more art than science.
|||
On The Souls Of Grimm, by Piranesi
The Age of Bright Arts, Year 52, Month Of Falling Water, Week 2, Day 8 *
My studies on the subject of Grimm began with my usual method of research: delving into ancient tomes and scrolls in the library. Unfortunately, most of what I found was either too vague or conflicting to be of any actual use, or solely focused on their weaknesses.
Humanity is obsessed with trying to destroy the Grimm; it does not desire to understand them. Even talking to the soul-blessed knights yielded no greater understanding. They did not care to learn about Grimm, beyond their strategies and weaknesses. This, alongside the rising price of shellfish, has vexed me greatly...
[Two full pages are devoted to Piranesi's frankly impressive ire at the cost of fresh mussels from the market, and devising what is vaguely recognisable as a method of rope farming.]
I wandered through the forest, pondering how to best approach this quandary when I was accosted by a Grimm of some size and some advanced age. Even using the glyphs of Padfoot I had sewn into my socks to attempt to escape it, it still would not cease chasing me. Eventually, I stumbled into a cave and chose to trap it there instead. Using the following glyphs, I bound it in place, unable to escape, and strengthened the rock so it could not merely destroy the physical moorings:
[DIAGRAM CENSORED BY ORDER OF THE JADE BUREAU]
The Grimm ceased fighting, once it realised it was trapped. Intelligence notable, if not otherwise lack of determination- wild foxes will chew their limbs off to escape a trap. This Grimm has shown no such attempts.
Subject 1 has been acquired. Testing will begin tomorrow.
|||
[The next section appears to be a letter, dated about a month after the initial entry. It is addressed to a correspondent of Piranesi's; no surname is provided, but is presumed to be Maram al-Amin, one of Piranesi's contemporary philosophers, and suspected occasional lover, though no concrete evidence has been found of such a relationship. It details the results of his various experiments on Subject 1; now named 'Penseur.']
Maram, my Sagithol-lit Caprist knight,
Should this letter find you, I hope it finds you well. It seems that these days, I am only either asleep or missing you. Every step I take away from you hurts as much as the first.
I understand that you reacted to my last correspondence with concern. I hope you'll forgive this part of me, too; I wish to assuage those concerns by informing you of my progress in recent months.
Penseur is, as of now, the only Grimm I have ever had the pleasure of studying, but even this singular opportunity is fascinating in what it has taught me. After the first few days of escape attempts, which I dissuaded it from via positive punishment. Once it had given up on that, I rewarded its behaviour by removing the negative stimulus.
Were you aware that Grimm could learn like dogs? Via the use of reinforcement and punishment?
One of the soul-blessed knights told me that some Grimm do not enjoy sunlight- that is why the lush plains of southern Sanus are almost Grimm-free. As such, I set up a simple mirror system to diffuse sunlight into the cavern as a punishment when it attempts to escape.
I would come in every day, and reset the mirrors manually, plunging the cave into mere torchlight. Within a week, I no longer had to do so.
It understands pain. It understands the cessation of pain.
When I brought it a bale of hay, it tore it apart. The next day, it had fashioned itself a nest to sleep in. Does it enjoy sleeping out of boredom, perhaps? Is it conserving its energy?
Penseur, at least, appears more like an animal than any mere Beowolf. I believed, then, that Penseur has some understanding of the qualities of the world. That hay is comfier than stone, and that sunlight is repulsive compared to torchlight.
Now- I know that it is capable of understanding the world around it.
I began to feed it- partially out of curiosity, and partially because I felt somewhat bad eating my lunch in front of it while it sat there with nothing.
This proved to be a very useful reward scheme, to use in later tests. I have tested many meals; carnivorous, of course. Penseur prefers cooked meat to raw, and stone dove* to both beef and pork. I was unable (and before you say anything, my dear, unwilling) to procure a human corpse for testing purposes.
Still, Penseur's preference for roast stone dove is helpful for both transport, and my coin purse.
My second experiment was whether or not it could learn. I set up some bowls, two empty, one filled with stone dove, all covered with small plates. I showed them the bowl with a stone dove in it, then shuffled them around with some basic glyphcraft. I am not enough of a fool to put myself in arm's reach of a Grimm, even one that has so far been quite amenable to my tomfoolery. At first, it appeared to not understand that the bowl had moved- or, perhaps, it was just curious about what was in each bowl, before going back to the stone dove. It required further testing.
For my second test, the next day, I drew something in the dirt of the cave floor- a symbol of the stone dove that Penseur enjoyed so much, matched with the pot that contained such. They looked into the pot, took their reward, and then I switched it with a pot full of stones. They learned quickly what the symbol for a stone dove was, and below that, I wrote the word.
Next, I sealed the pot with a glyph and gave Penseur a set of wooden blocks with letters, the same toy we bought your son. It would not open unless it used the blocks to spell the word 'DOVE.'
It learned this within minutes. Then, "ROCKS."
"POT."
"ME."
"ME. PENSEUR. YOU. PIRANESI."
Let me change your world in a few words, my darling; I am now the first person on Remnant to open a line of communication with the Grimm.
Your Geminian-lit Aquarian prince,
Piranesi
[Through advanced imaging techniques, a further statement was found in the margins of the letter- most of it is fragments of poetry, and only one full sentence has been successfully recovered.
"Missing you is the tide."]
|||
{Hey. Sparring's over. Wanna go find Yang?}
You jar into awareness, so engrossed in the book that you feel like you're coming out of a trance.
"Uh, y-yeah, yeah, let's do that."
You feel the digital equivalent of a raised eyebrow from the Transistor as you extricate yourself from the seat.
{Lien for your thoughts?}
You shake your head, trying to digest what you've read and form an opinion on it already.
"... Honestly? I'll be shocked if this book doesn't end with 'and then Penseur escapes and kills Piranesi.'"
Blue snorts.
{Come on, you know what I mean.}
You sigh, because you do know what he means.
"... I kinda hope it ends in nothing. Is it wrong for the idea of a Grimm learning to feel like a human… to scare me?"
You know the old stories, of course- Grimm, now extinct, that took the form of humans, or at least close enough for government work, to lure people into the woods, or infiltrate villages…
Well, they're extinct for a reason, now. For some reason… people know Grimm when they see them. They can act as human as they like, but people always knew.
Of course it's not wrong. The idea of a Grimm that could infiltrate human society would be horrifying. Even ignoring the most basic utility of a perfect infiltrator as just a serial killer or a sower of discord, imagine one running for office. Well, in a democratic Kingdom.
A shiver goes up your spine, and you don't even feel up to the boilerplate joke of 'well they couldn't be any worse than who's in power now.'
Still- it's an interesting book. You've already seen a Grimm act as animalistic as, a wounded deer. Perhaps…
Perhaps becoming humanlike isn't as huge a step. Humanlike doesn't trigger that same shiver of fear, you can still- approach the subject, somewhat objectively.
So… yeah. You're curious. Curious enough to keep reading another time, at least.
On The Souls of Grimm: Part 1 of 3 Complete.
??? +1.
Current ???: 1/10
|||
You start to wander through the halls of Beacon, not really taking any particular route- just enjoying the act of travelling without a destination in mind. The time is around 6:30, and the sun is starting to settle into dusk. Your shadow is long, and the stained glass windows paint the hallway in a playful light. Yang wasn't in the food hall, that or you missed her by a few minutes, so instead, you're just… wandering around. Maybe you'll find her, maybe you won't.
However, for the first time in a while… you don't mind. Turns out sitting down and just relaxing by yourself for the first time in months, if you're honest with yourself, was pretty darn good for your mental health.
{You're an introvert by nature, Jaune- and you've surrounded yourself with people who take up your time and energy. Not unfairly so, but… you've been running that well dry recently. There's nothing wrong with taking some time out for yourself.}
You sigh.
Something's wrong.
You don't phrase it as a question anymore; it's just a statement.
Blake's about twenty metres behind you and trying to stalk us.
OH COME ON YOU WERE BEING HYPERBOLIC-
{Technically nothing is wrong! She's just following us! Not armed!}
… But she is following you.
She is following us.
{Do you wanna confront her?}
No, no. She'd just run if you turned around and confronted her. You need to be a little smarter about this. By smarter, you of course mean pettier.
{There's a turn coming up, slip around it when we say and she won't see you take it.}
Your lips quirk up into a little smirk, the idea just the right amount of messing Blake about for…
You stop for a moment. Rack your brain for this one. Blake… has done… Blake has done… n… nothing, to you?
{Correct. What's your point?}
… Why are you messing with someone who's never done anything to deserve it?
{Jaune, she is… actively stalking you. Like, at this exact moment.}
Well, yeah, you've moved on to thinking about whether or not you've done anything that might warrant being stalked.
You did make a vague allusion to possibly knowing about her ears yesterday.
What wh-
A recording appears in the corner of your eye of you saying that Blake was still listening when Yang and Ruby were about to faint.
You- that's- but- that's nothing! That's barely anything at all! You certainly didn't mean it that way!
{Jaune, she's a Faunus doing her best to pass as human and a former active White Fang member at that. Paranoia is kind of her wheelhouse. Anyway, turning off or not?}
You're turning off, she's stalking you for a reason, and you want to know what it is because if it's that, you're going to have a very long talk with her about priorities. You walk forward for a few more seconds, slipping down the corridor when Blue says to.
The sound of rapid footfall soon follows and Blake turns the corner to find you leaning against the wall, waiting for her. She stalls just before she slams into you headfirst, leaving her standing there, eyes wide in slight confusion.
"You know, I did that with the sincere hope that you weren't following me. So how about we start with why you were following me, and see where we go from there?"
Blake stares at you, wide-eyed, everything in her stance screaming she's considering bolting without a word. So, you don't move, you don't make any threatening motions, you just stand there, quietly waiting for an answer. When she seems to realise that you're not going to rip her head off or something, she swallows, her eyes hardening after a moment of uncertainty.
"... I overheard a conversation you had, and I wanted to make sure you were telling the truth."
How delightfully vague.
"And what conversation did you overhear that warrants stalking me?"
"'I don't research people unless I have a very good reason.'"
You blink, and Blue helpfully pulls up the conversation you had with Lumen right outside the ruins that held the chess pieces.
… Okay that's a way better justification than what you thought she was running on, you have to give her that.
"And what do you have to hide that could possibly be a good reas-"
She scoffs, cutting you off, and it stuns you enough that it works.
"Don't patronise me. People who can spy on other people always find a good reason to do it."
… See, the worst part is that, yeah. She's entirely right. You, genuinely can't argue with that logic, especially when you remember that she does have things to hide.
"... Alright, I'll take that. But whatever it is you're trying to hide- it's none of my business."
"Is that why you went to talk to Ozpin last night?" she snaps back at you.
Now it's your turn to scoff.
"Now who's spying on who?"
Blake freezes, wincing a little as she realises what she just admitted to.
{This isn't going anywhere productive.}
He's right. You take a deep breath and try your best to focus on moving this conversation along.
"Look- I'll be upfront. Yes, I probably know things about you that you don't want me to-"
Blake's head whips up, an angry snarl on her face, but you put your hands up to stop her before she goes any further.
"But, it was… pretty much entirely accidental."
"... How can it be accident-" her eyes flick to the Transistor, and she goes silent for a moment.
It surprises you when Blue speaks up for a change; you've been under the impression that he thinks of speaking to people other than you and your team as something akin to eating an entire, living frog.
"{Hi. Yeah, I kinda, uh… told him. Like, the two big things you don't want anyone to know about. Before you get mad, I wasn't exactly in full control of my faculties at the time. I was just cleaning house, and… found your file. That's all.}"
Blake sputters at the interruption, at Blue's explanation, and at the admission that you do know what's up with her.
"That's all? You-you rifled through my life, exposed my secrets, threw it all in a,- in a file, and all you have to say for yourself is that's all?"
The Transistor stills, its red eye dimming for a moment. You can feel the twinned irritation in the back of your head; a thrumming, buzzing thing, almost like a hornet's nest, or the sound of a circular saw through wood.
"{Remember how you said people who can spy on other people will always find a good excuse for it?}" Blue asks almost placidly.
Blake just stares at him silently, too angry to speak.
"{My reason for doing anything is to protect Jaune. That is the only reason I will ever need. You want to begrudge me what I did, that's between you and me. But Jaune is, bar the burden of knowledge, entirely undeserving of your attitude.}"
The sharp tone in Blue's voice cuts through Blake's anger like a set of tailor's scissors through silk. She seems to deflate, and you're left stewing in awkward silence for a few moments. She seems… genuinely unsure about how to proceed.
"... Do… you wanna talk about it?" you venture, trying to break the atmosphere before it settles permanently.
"Why? You know everything that happened, don't you?"
She doesn't quite snap at you, per se, but Blake is very obviously quite frustrated with this entire situation, and you'll admit to being quite tempted into just rolling your eyes and walking away with a similarly not-quite-snappy parting remark. That's not fair, though.
It doesn't take a genius to realise she's waiting for you to twist this to your advantage. Blake isn't envisioning nice things happening as a result of this conversation. She's just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
You won't lie, after all of this, you're kinda tempted to prove her right. Nothing much, just something stupid, like teaching you how to improve your handwriti- that's, not a half-bad idea, actually, you've seen Blake's handwriting, it's almost as good as Weiss's.
… Later, and not as blackmail.
"I know two things about you, Blake- that you are a F-"
She shushes you very quickly, eyes wide with fear.
"Relax. This entire part of the school is dead, right now. You are, an F-word, the better one of the two, and you are… a former WF member. I have no context for anything beyond those two facts. So… sell yourself to me."
She blinks, eyes crinkling in confusion.
"What?"
"I have tried my best not to judge you based on those alone because Gods know that's gotten me into trouble before, and I want to go away from here today with at least a decent impression of you, so… give me something else to work with?"
Blake gives you a blank look, blinking slowly as she comes to some realisation about you.
"... Sorry, I just… want to be clear here. You, knew I was, what I am, and you…?"
"Functionally don't care, yes. You wanna know one of the things you learn real quick when you always have good reason to spy on people?"
She narrows her eyes.
"What?" she asks, suspicion plain in her voice.
"It's pretty easy to find a good reason to do anything. Come on, you hungry?"
|||
Turns out Blake could eat. That burger you had for lunch is still sitting like a rock in your stomach, so you opt for a lighter option- well, relatively. A salade Niçoise, with roasted salmon instead of tuna; green beans; butter lettuce; and a dash of thick red wine vinegar and mustard emulsion for dressing. Blake opted for the same, though she is blushing just a touch as she looks at it, and you can't think why-
{Jaune. Cats? Fish?}
Well Creme isn't a vegetarian, is she?
Neither are deer.
… Wait, what?
Deer are opportunistic carnivores. They may not seek meat out specifically, but they won't turn their nose up at it, either, when they're hungry.
In the corner of your eye, an incredibly distressing video plays, involving a deer and an injured bird that had fallen out of its nest.
Truly, the Brothers were a kind and empathetic force.
{Do you want a palette cleanser?}
Yes, please.
In the same corner of your eye, a video involving a bunch of ferrets and a box full of packing peanuts begins to play.
Ah. Perfection.
You've taken your dinner outside, to, funnily enough, the same cloistered garden you had your last deep conversation in. What is it about this place that draws you to it?
{You know it's here, and you know it's private. Now break the ice, she's obviously not in the mood to do it.}
I don't think she's ever in the mood to do it.
"So," you start, shutting your digital friends up, "What led you to join the White Fang?"
Blake flinches as if expecting something bad to happen just from uttering the organisation's name. When the sky doesn't fall on your heads, she takes a deep breath, steeling herself for a very long conversation.
"... It wasn't… always so bad, you know," she says hesitantly.
You do know, actually- part of the research you'd inevitably done the night after Creme poured her worries out for you involved looking up the White Fang. In retrospect, the fact that they were a peaceful organisation, one, makes 'White Fang' make a lot more sense, and two, really just kinda… makes you a little sad.
They wanted peaceful change, and people drove them to terrorism. Brothers. It was only about five years ago when Ghira Belladyou have got to be fucking kidding.
OKAY. FILING THAT ONE AWAY. DON'T BRING IT UP SHE'S ALREADY PISSED AT YOU.
But, it does help you make a little more sense of the situation as it stands.
"I know they used to be peaceful, until about five years ago, when the former leader stepped down and a less moderate one took his place. Sienna Khan militarised the organisation, and it's been a downward spiral since."
Blake stares at you with surprise, blinking it away after a moment.
"Um. Yeah. Did you look all this up?" she asks hesitantly.
"You're not, my first run-in with the organisation, so, I've looked into it before."
She narrows her eyes a fraction, sitting deep in thought. Now that you've sat down with her, you realise that she's way more expressive than you expected. For someone who doesn't go out of their way to socialise outside of their team- yes, yes, pot, meet kettle- she's nowhere near as guarded about what she's feeling as you imagined.
That or she's unaware that she's all but holding up a sign declaring what she's feeling. Very possible.
"Well… yeah. You know they used to not be violent, and… that's what I grew up with; protests and boycotts. I was holding up placards as a little girl, not, firebombing stores."
You take a bite, mulling that over as you chew. The salmon is lovely, gently pulling apart at the lightest touch, which is very nice with the snap and crunch of the green beans and lettuce. The acid of the red wine vinegar dressing helps to cut through the richness, and the end result is a very light and refreshing meal.
"... I joined because I wanted to make a difference. I left, because… things changed. W-we never- I, never, wanted to hurt innocent people, Human or otherwise. Other people… didn't care so much. Soon, people… left Faunus alone, but not out of respect. Just… out of fear of reprisal."
That 'didn't care so much' is doing the work of the giant that holds Remnant out of the sea. You've heard the stories, of course, but you've also seen firsthand the White Fang's new approach to civilian casualties.
"... So you left because of a difference in opinion," you say, succinctly summarising what she's saying.
She laughs through her nose, an actual smile gracing her face before she finally eats some of her salad. You watch with more than a touch of amusement as she closes her eyes, exhaling in pure pleasure. When she finishes that bite, she continues.
"Yes, I suppose I left because of a difference in opinion," she repeats lightly. "So… what now?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know I'm a F-" she cuts herself off, before lowering her voice a touch, "an, f-word, and… what I did, and why I left. I can't exactly stop you from telling anyone without getting into a fight that I'd rather not get into, so…"
You shrug, revelling a little in the confusion on her face.
"Blue, has she lied once during this entire conversation?"
"{Lies of omission, maybe. She certainly left out a lot of details, but she's been truthful for the most part; especially about leaving due to a difference in opinion. I wouldn't rank her an active danger.}"
Blake stares at your sword for a moment, apparently having forgotten that it could speak.
"S-so, that's it? You just, decide that I'm not a danger to people, and that's the end of it?"
"Blake, there was never a start to it. Unless you were going to harm people, I never really intended to chase this up beyond having a conversation like this with you. And, you're not, so I don't… care about what you were. I-" you laugh a little, running your fingers through your hair. "Look, I want you to know that I'm saying this as politely as I can, but… I have enough on my plate without adding you to it. If you need me to like, come with you for like half a day to go and punch someone in the face, sure, if you wanna talk, fine, but… I don't think you can count on me for long-term emotional support."
She blinks, entirely unsure how to take what you've just said. For a moment, she appears to have no idea what to say at all.
"... Th…ank you, I suppose," she says hesitantly. Her yellow eyes flick to the Transistor for a moment. "... I suppose you'd rather I didn't tell anyone about… Blue?"
"{Blue, yes. He named me when he was 11, cut him some slack.}"
Blake snorts out a little giggle, and you have to fight down a hot flush of embarrassment.
"Well, Blue, I'm… I, apologise, for being so angry at you earlier. You were, just trying to protect a friend-"
"{People are touchy about their privacy. I don't expect to be forgiven for what I do, so I'm not sorry about it.}"
You wince a little at that, and almost expect Blake to, quite rightfully, explode again.
"{But,}" Blue continues, "{I did give Jaune the raw data I found, without finding everything necessary to… well, make it more than data. I took it out of its true context, and that, I apologise for.}"
Blake's eyes glitter with amusement for a moment, quietly accepting your friend's apology.
"To answer your question- yes, very much so. AI, especially ones as generalised as the Transistor, are… a touchy, unexplored topic. I'd rather it stay under wraps until I'm ready to deal with the reveal myself."
You're still not entirely sure what'd happen if you made the announcement, and told people that hey you just made an AGI, a thing that thinks and acts as a human does without any of the physical limitations or metaphysical markers that generally mark a normal, healthy human.
You imagine it involves either the digital equivalent of vivisection or a very large, smoking hole in the ground where the research facility was, with the Transistor in the centre of it. At least the Process is a little beyond that, by this point. Her lips quirk into a little smile as she slowly finishes her salmon.
"Looks like we both know something the other would rather keep under wraps. Shall we just call it… ships passing in the night, and leave it at that?"
You can't stop yourself from smiling back.
"Sounds like a deal."
|||
With your dinner finished, you find yourself wandering the halls again, though this time with an actual- if floating- destination in mind. Yang. Even though she was chosen, essentially at random, you're quite taken with the idea of hanging out with her for a couple of hours.
{Do you want me to order the wedding rings now?}
You silently roll your eyes at the Transistor, not rising to the bait. No, you just want to find out about what happened, uh… last week. God, it still messes with you that that was less- just over a week ago, now.
Time is an odious concept. Anyway- why do you want to talk to her about that, anyway? We have a perfect record of the events that occurred anyway.
They have a perfect record of you and Weiss acting like a pair of drunken fools. No, you want her version of events.
{Well, yeah, we have that too. But, fair enough, it's 7:00. She's probably back in the dorms if she's anywhere.}
Fair enough. You wander back and eventually find Yang making her way back too, with Ruby in tow.
"Yang, do you have notes for Grimm Studies? I, er, wanna compare," Ruby asks her sister.
"You want to copy, you mean," Yang replies.
"I have notes," you call out. "I don't mind you copying them."
You still need to get around to collating your notes and sending a cloud link to everyone, actually. That way, nobody's falling behind.
{Including Dove and Cardin?}
Yes, them too. Well, maybe vet their contributions, before merging them.
Ruby snaps to look at you, giving a wide grin.
"Jaune! Thank you!" she says, sounding genuinely relieved. "I was, uh…"
"Distracted," Yang finishes flatly. "Too busy doodling."
Ruby winces, but the ghost of a smile on Yang's face makes it obvious she's not actually all that mad about it. You try to remember what it was she'd drawn-
Ah. Yes.
"Yes, I saw Professor Poop," you tell her, trying to keep your voice warm.
Damn near broke you, honestly. A lack of sleep makes anything funnier, it turns out.
Ruby just gives an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Yeah, well, I mean, I didn't dislike Professor Port, it's just… I know how to kill Grimm! I don't need someone to give me instructions on how to do it! Or, well… that's what I thought."
"And now?"
"Well… I dunno. I guess I haven't really been taking this whole team leader thing too seriously, and now I'm just… trying to catch up to where I should be, I guess. Does that make sense?"
You smile. You remember Weiss throwing something of a tantrum in the halls at being juked out of team leader like that, then lunch happened, and they both came back seeming significantly less angry. Not with each other, per se, but, in general.
Gods, you love it when problems resolve without your input.
"No, I get it."
With a few flicks of your eyes, your notes, sources, and helpful AI-generated diagrams are collated into a neat little rich text document and sent to Ruby's Scroll, which pings out a jaunty little tune. Ruby pulls it from her skirt pocket and clicks the link. You get a notification for a connection to the Transistor's public-facing server to your Grimm Studies notes file, and you watch in amusement as her eyes flick through the entire thing in seconds. Her grin widens the entire time, and when she's done, she slaps her Scroll closed and looks at you with genuine relief in her eyes.
"I-is the library still open? I wanna print this off!"
"It's open until curfew, last I checked."
Ruby gives a happy little squeal and thanks you profusely, then there is only a vague outline of rose petals, quickly dragged into the young girl's slipstream.
Yang stumbles a little, her hair suddenly way more windswept than it was a moment ago. She struggles to pull it away from her eyes for a moment, chuckling a little to herself when a single purple-
{Lilac.}
-shut up, eye peers at you through her hair.
"Dang, must have been some pretty good notes. I think that's the second time I've ever seen her get excited at schoolwork."
"What was the first?" you ask, curiosity demanding an answer.
"Uh... I guess, technically, when Uncle Qrow started teaching her how to fight with a scythe."
… Uncle Qrow? He had nieces and never told you? Oh, you are absolutely giving him shit for that next time you see him. But for now, you actually did come here with something in mind, so you'll shove that to the side for later.
"Hey, so, um… do you mind if we talk? I, uh, have some questions that I'm hoping you might have the answers to."
"No, as far as I know, you and Weiss didn't do anything past first base, she asked me the same thing," Yang says as casually as she would answer a question about the weather.
Lacking a glass of water, you instead manage to spit take air. That's impressive in and of itself, and, guessing by how loudly Yang is laughing, downright hilarious. Once you're finished coughing up a lung and Yang's finished laughing herself into a cracked rib, she takes a breath and sighs.
"Alright, alright, what did you wanna know?" she asks.
"Well, er, it is about me and Weiss, actually. I wanted to know… what you remember of, uh, the first time you met us."
Yang just raises an eyebrow in silent curiosity, before comprehension dawns.
"Riiiiiight, you two were absolutely blasted, I remember. Uh… we should probably sit down for this. Come on," she says, leading you down the hall to team RWBY's room.
|||
You walk in, take one look at the 'bunk beds,' and quietly thank the Brothers that you don't actually keep any of your aneurysms after they happen because otherwise, you would have dropped the moment you saw them. It's mainly the idea of those books being forced to take the entire weight of a bed compressed into two points that stress you; they're going to be pressed back into an unreadable block of wood by the end of the week. But don't even get you started on the bed that's been turned into a hammock, hanging from four hooks on the ceiling along with a curtain futzed into the covers on a four-poster bed.
However, it doesn't stress you out anywhere near as much as it stresses out 01. The digital squeal leaves your ears ringing a little as 01 tumbles down your shoulder, eventually landing on the floor with a sound you can only describe as tink.
"No! No no no no no! Very unstable! Very unsafe!"
"Uh, I mean, we've slept in it alright, we just put Weiss and Ruby in the top bunks, and they're lighter than me put together-"
But it's too late; 01 is on the warpath against… badly constructed, impromptu bunk beds?
… You know it's a stupid hill to die on and yet here you are, dying on it with the little guy-
01 floats off at speed, before climbing the bedframe with surprising dexterity, wrapping its petals around the pole and clacking its way up. You watch curiously, genuinely unsure what its plan is just yet. Of all the methods you expected your Cell to take, just yanking the books free and Processing a rod in their place like some kind of magic trick wasn't on the list. You watch as it does this again before it materialises six, doing it all at once and also taking the place of the books, morphing into more poles. You sense the same thing happening under the four-poster's curtain, giving it actual structure to drape over.
Within 30 seconds, Team RWBY's health and safety-noncompliant setups are replaced with what you honestly would not have guessed wasn't a set of bunk beds beforehand.
"There! Much safer now! Chance of collapse reduced to negligible risk."
Yang snorts, gently shaking her head as a little smile creeps up her face.
"Well, that's good to know," she says, amusement clear in her eyes. She launches herself onto a bottom bunk and lands her head on the pillow, hands behind her head. "Ah… it's great to finally get into bed after a long day."
She creaks an eye open, staring at you with a sly little smile full of enough implications to fill a small novella, and you suddenly understand why she and Creme get along so well.
"I'll sit, if you don't mind," you say, forming a Process equivalent to that chair from the library and happily sinking into it.
Yang pouts, says you're no fun, and you sigh in relief that stonewalling still works. You don't, really have a plan B for that.
"So- what do you wanna know?"
"Well… a general overview of events would be nice. Why the fight started, how we got involved, maybe if I should be worried about any property damage suits coming my way…?"
Yang snorts, before launching into a little giggle fit as if you'd said something funny instead of asking perfectly reasonable questions.
"Oh, man, you really have no idea where you and Weiss got absolutely smashed, do you? That was Junior's."
You blink, and Yang elaborates with an eye roll.
"Junior? Hei 'Junior' Xiong?"
Known associate of Roman Torchwick, and leader of the Xiong family. Half the police work for him.
The other half?
Torchwick, probably.
{Club… looks clean, actually- probably a business front, but the actual bricks and mortar were bought with clean, traceable money, regular income reports- Brothers, he even pays tax on it.}
What a dedicated gangster.
"Look, all you gotta know is, Junior ain't going to the police for that. That would require him to talk to the police."
{The police that he owns.}
Mm. The curse of knowledge descends upon you once more.
"But yeah, it went a little something like this…"
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That was some Prime Blake interaction right there. Loved it!
Eisenhelm
gran dutch of douchery
- Location
- Colombia
"suspected ocasional lover, no evidence has been found"
oh dear brothers, this is going to take forever
what is jaune's policy on blackmailing/killing people for his own safety?
do grim reproduce? if they do and if they go by traditional genetics maybe they can be domesticated eventually, delaying their meal of human sufering by coexisting whit them instead of outright killing them; if they took a niche as a war animal it would be easy to take the suffering of people in confrontations, and if they could become a household animal then it just be like cats, creating suffering in small ways to make their owners lives misserable.
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