Oh. Y'know, I have a sneaking suspicion that Lumen's family aren't very good people.
Oh, absolutely fucking not. Bianco is considered a
stable case.
... Her shortbread
is lovely, though.
So, technically Freeze() doesn't specify whether the object has to be inanimate or not, but you made the effort so I'll throw it on to annoy the munchkins, Blam(), no notes, good function, maybe 2 MEM instead of 1, and SweepUp() is basically just canon Transistor's Get() Function, so I'll probably just replace it with that, but they're all officially on the list!
Its terrible for a political debate!
They have to face facts, not preconceptions!
Horrifying
[X] "... My brain's healed. We can, test that thing you talked about?" (Start "Funk Soul Sister" now.)
Once Jaune gets the threshhold between "immediately relevant information" and "trivia that can wait" adjusted - something that this class will likely help happen quickly, his ability to have relevant data on hand like that will probably be fairly helpful in keeping him off the back foot, at least for some topics.
He just. REALLY needs to get that threshhold adjusted ASAP.
No worries, Yang's gonna put sum more social spine into our lad!
But I think yeah, Jaune needs to learn to compartmentalise data points without crashing as he gets em, especially when he'll (by dint of logic+lived experiences) will inevitably disagrees when it comes to things real close to his friends (Faunus rights/White Fang, The Salem Grimm Comspiracy, Being A teen CEO of arguably the fastest growing company since Jacques co-opted the Schnees, etc.)
So many interesting topics to segue-way with just the right words to make it happen.
He'll learn, don't worry. Not every class is going to end in a panic attack, especially once he outs Dove's horseshit Semblance and people start to see through the trick.
In other news, uh... this is getting easier, again. I'm still taking it slow, I'm not going to Icarus myself again, but, it's getting easier.
Yang is good at talking. Not eloquently, exactly, or of anything particularly interesting, but you understand that's not the point of the exercise right now, but what's most interesting to you is
how she talks.
Yang Xiao Long talks like she has a vendetta against silence.
"Ugh, living in Patch was so
boring! Well okay it wasn't boring exactly but it was just one-note, you know? Everything was based around Signal, all the shops were for Huntsmen, all the bars were Huntsmen-themed, there was even a café with a
weapons workshop that always had Huntsmen in it tinkering away on their stuff while they got drinks, it was like seeing script writers in a Schneets! But it wasn't all bad, you could still get up to some fun stuff if you knew where to go and when. I remember some of my friends managing to break into an old bar that had closed down for repairs and we found a couple bottles of this really nice strawberry liqueur-"
And a blood feud with the concept of
breathing.
It helps, though. The white noise of stories she wouldn't share with a cop is relaxing. It's
simple.
You need simple, right now, while she leads you by the wrist back to her room, and you're so glad you can think that without Blue's input right now.
Oh. Right.
You let your friends back into your head.
{... Hey.}
Hey. Sorry.
It's okay. We forgive you.
You give a big, shuddering sigh- sheer relief driving the wind from your lungs like a punch to the gut.
"-Hm? Jaune?"
"I…"
Ah. The words aren't coming. They're
not forming. All those concepts you've been learning since you were a baby, all those noises you should know how to make, and it's like some minor gear is missing- whatever cognitive mechanism there is behind talking, it's gone still.
Huh. You've not become completely nonverbal in a long time. You really must not be okay.
"{He's fine. Still a little frazzled.}"
Yang jumps a little at your friend piping up.
"Gah! Uh, hi… Blue?"
"{Hey, you remembered. So- what happened after the strawberry liqueur?}"
"Oh! Well we figured we should probably leave in case the cop came- yes,
the cop
, singular, that's how tiny Patch is-"
Deep breath. Let the story wash over you.
You're okay. You're going to be. You
will be.
|||
The others are still at Self-Directed Sparring, you suppose, or dinner- because it's just you and Yang, again. She spent a few minutes busying herself, grabbing her Scroll, your Scroll, Weiss's laptop- you recognise it, be assured- and various other electronics before stuffing them into a box, leaving for a short while. When she comes back, she sits herself on the edge of the nearest bunkbed.
"Okay- all the electronics are with Ren, I unplugged the alarm clocks- this is now a technology-free zone."
You nod.
"Thanks. I appreciate the forethought."
Yang gives you that easy grin again, before settling in, elbows on her thighs and head in her hands, staring at you curiously.
"So… your brain heals?"
… Not the first question you were expecting.
"Uh, yeah. Side effect of my Semblance. Much as it wants to kill me if I don't feed it circuit boards, it doesn't want to leave me non-responsive, either, so… my brain heals as long as I'm alive."
"That's so
cool! Like, okay, you got me curious, so I got a book all about the brain from the library, and… that's not normal, right? Brain injuries are supposed to be pretty permanent."
"{It's not, no. Brain injuries are generally permanent- recovery happens by the brain repurposing nearby parts to regain function in that area. But, dead parts stay dead.}"
"Yeah, exactly! So you're one of a kind!"
You shrug, a tired little smile making its way up your face.
"Not quite, it's just a very exclusive club. Me and Nurse Teal back at Signal."
Yang blinks.
"... Nurse Teal can heal brain injuries?"
You nod.
"She only told me about the one time, but yeah- she can. I checked her Semblance over for a Function, and the capability is there."
"Huh. Damn, I'm starting to feel a little inadequate- all I do is punch people really hard," Yang says, rubbing the back of her neck with a grin. "Well- after getting punched really hard."
"{Nonsense- punching people really hard is half of being a Huntress,}" Blue chimes in. "{Getting punched real hard is like another 20%.}"
"What's the last 30?"
"{Saving people, killing Grimm, generally being the shield of humanity against the darkness, you watched those Saturday morning cartoons, didn't you?}"
Yang laughs.
"Not really, no, that was more Ruby's deal, and I hate that I still get the theme song stuck in my head sometimes."
Yes, you're aware that your sword is better at this than you. It's a realisation that actually does force you to lurch into motion once again.
"Hey, uh… thanks. For all of this. It's, been a huge help, but- and please take this kindly- you didn't… strike me as the kind of person who'd know how to help someone through a panic attack. Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Well, my first time was with a really cute girl back in Patch I'm kidding,
I'm kidding," Yang starts then immediately ejects from the bit when your eyebrows attempt to launch themselves at the ceiling. "... But no, seriously. I grew up with- I knew a couple people who had panic attacks a few times a week. Got called in the middle of the night, and… I dunno, just being background noise for them worked, you know?"
"It's… surprisingly effective," you admit.
"So… you ready?"
"For wha- oh, yeah, two seconds-" she walks over to a nightstand and pulls out a pen and notepad- the former too nice and the latter too snowflake-themed for you to believe either were originally hers. Yang sits herself down on the side of the bed again and opens the notebook, pen at the ready. "Okay- do what you have to."
"You ready?" you ask your sword.
"{Ready as you are.}"
So not really but powering through because you're here already, got it.
"Bracket, you're off the leash. Permission to disconnect from the system administrator, full autonomy. Ten minutes."
Understood.
Disconnect in
3
2
1
Semblance::disconnect();
It's gentler than the last few times you've done this. Now that there's no urgency to the disconnection, it takes it slow, more like
letting go than the Transistor ripping itself from the grasp of your soul- and none of that makes it better. What's normally a blackout-inducing
desiccation of your nervous system now feels more like slow, desert sun dehydration- the difference between ripping off a bandaid on your leg and slowly peeling it off, feeling every single hair pulled one after the other.
But it keeps you conscious- you just feel
horrific tingles all over your body, like trying a cigarette for the first time with Lumen and somehow managing to power through the initial coughing. You don't know why he does it, genuinely, and then you kinda wanted a second one and decided you probably shouldn't try nicotine again.
Eventually, finally, you let go of the Transistor. Complete disconnect.
Silence in the halls of your mind.
"Jaune? You okay?" Yang asks as you lean back in your chair, giving a long, drawn out exhale.
"I'm fine. It's just- not a pleasant feeling. It's like- pins and needles, everywhere. It's fine- it passes after a few seconds."
Yang stops to write something down, then looks at the Transistor, no longer connected to you- and you can see it, even now. There's no gentle bob and sway to its movements, no more illusion of holding itself up with thrust. It floats there, stock-still, like it's frozen in place. Yang stares at it for a long moment, frowning deeply.
"... I don't… feel
you off the Transistor, anymore. And it doesn't… Blue?"
"{Still here.}"
She stops and notes something down.
"... Yeah- the
second you disconnected, it stopped feeling…
alive, but it doesn't feel… broken? Like- this is a different kind of feeling from the Initiation. Way different."
"{How so?}"
Yang stops and thinks about that for 5.44 seconds, the exact timing just placed in your stream of consciousness. You start to feel a slow pulse in your temples- not pain, just yet, but pressure.
Already?
Oh. Of course. You're still stressed. None of your recent problems have
gone away since you disconnected from the Transistor. Right now, this is like chumming the waters for your Semblance, even though it feels-
sluggish, you think. Like a dog waking from deep sleep because you waved a sausage in front of its face.
"... Okay-" Yang points at you, "alive, not broken," she points at herself, "alive, not broken. Not alive, not broken," she points at the dresser beside her bed, "not alive, not broken," she points at the Transistor. Then she takes a second pencil from the drawer, and easily snaps it in half with one hand. "Not alive-
broken."
"{You differentiate inanimate objects by whether or not they're broken?}"
"For this specific thing, yeah," Yang says. "I dunno, I can't- I don't have the words to explain this, okay? You feel,
whole, now. I don't feel like I'm looking at something that's not working at 100%, you know? But you do feel different when you're not connected to Jaune. I mean, you're not, moving anymore, for one thing."
"{We don't need to.}"
Yang frowns, then looks at you for a second, confused.
"{It's- sorry- a lot of the things we do, like the bobbing, are because they make people more comfortable around Jaune. They make
us look a little less… threatening. When we're given autonomy, we're not usually around Jaune, so those things stop.}"
"...
They stop, or
you stop them?" Yang asks.
"{Both. It's inefficient to keep them running when their purpose isn't necessary to fulfil.}"
"... Jaune, your sword's kind of a jerk when he's not connected to you.
Way less laid-back," Yang says.
"{Gee, thanks. We'll take it under consideration.}"
You turn to look at the Transistor, frowning a little at its caustic tone. Then Yang laughs, and you give a silent breath of relief that Blue hasn't just pissed off someone else close to you.
"No, I mean you've changed not a minute after disconnecting. It's interesting. Makes me… wonder how much of it is you when you're connected, I guess?"
The Transistor, already stock still, somehow gives the impression of freezing in place.
"{... You think our personalities are influenced by Jaune?}"
"Sure- you're literally never apart," Yang says. "Ever. You think that
hasn't changed you a little, or Jaune?"
"I mean- all I get out of being disconnected is a headache. But it's true- don't be an ass, Blue. She's just trying to help."
Your sword is silent for a long moment. 3.57 seconds.
"{... Huh. You're right.}"
"It's cool, I'm used to a bit of cattiness-" Yang starts.
"{No, I mean, you're
right. We just checked the log of running processes- it's small, by our standards, but something shut off when we disconnected. Looks like it… basically uses your Semblance to simulate the mirror neurons of a human brain.}"
"What're those?"
"Uh- scientists aren't entirely sure what they're for, but they're special cells in your brain that are activated when you perform an action, and also when you see other people perform an action, or register an emotional state. You register them as if you yourself were doing it, or feeling it."
"{Monkey see, monkey empathise.}"
Yang stops writing for a second, thinking that over.
"... Can you run it without being connected to Jaune?"
The dull pain gets worse as your Semblance registers the question, and for once, actually spits out a coherent answer- no. Your Semblance is baked into too much of the Transistor's close-to-metal code. Or, close-to-physical-equation code.
"No. Hardcoded limitation."
"{Just checked, what he said. Throws up errors we've never encountered before.}"
Yang writes something else down. You spot the reflection of her notebook in the dark screen of a nearby alarm clock, and feel someone slowly drive an icepick into the back of your head as you process her notes out of a warped, limited reflection- you can't stop the gentle hiss of pain.
"Jaune? Are you
sure you're okay?"
Breathe. Push it down. It's not even been 10 minutes. You're
fine.
"{He's fine. No damage detected.}"
"Just… tired. Not doing everything I can to keep my Semblance at bay, I guess."
Wait. No. Not someone pushing an icepick into the back of your head. It's going in the wrong direction, you realise after a moment.
The pain starts from the inside. The pain is
extruding from your skull, not
entering.
Then the pain goes past your physical being. What's…?
"{Jaune? Talk to us.}"
"I- I don't… know. It's, pain, in the back of my head, almost at the base of my skull, where- where the connection to the Transistor starts. But it's… going the wrong way. It's… leaving me."
"Where is it now?" Yang asks.
A foot behind you. Gaining a
shape. You relay as much.
Yang stares at you for a moment— no.
Behind you. You feel the pain begin to slowly sway, and her eyes
follow it, and the normal headache only gets worse by using her eyes to confirm its movement.
"... Flare your Aura."
"What?"
"Flare your Aura! I can-
feel it, in the room, let's see if we can see it!" she says, so excited by the prospect that you can't bring yourself to say no.
You flare your Aura- and feel your gorge rise when the warmth of your soul extends out
past the confines of your body, shading the aberrant sensation in light as well. Yang's eyes, now a shade paler, go wide.
"Oh my God. It's…"
"{It's a
hand?}"
Wait, what? You try and look behind yourself-
"Woah! Okay, don't move your head!" Yang says, throwing herself flat against the bed to dodge the apparent hand. You feel it tingle as it flails and
prangs its wrist against the ladder, the movement of your head turning it by the root. It doesn't hurt, but you register that it happened, which is a
weird feeling. Impact without pain.
Then you realise your neck doesn't hurt, anymore- like the sharp scratch of a needle fading after it stops moving. Or like stretching a muscle until it releases.
"... What does it look like?" you ask, turning
slowly, so you don't knock smack your soul into something else.
Yang doesn't respond, taking a really quick sketch in her notebook, then turning it around to face you.
It… she gets an A for effort, but it does just look like
a hand. Not a very good one, either.
Blue projects an image of yourself sitting there, and you see it- a too-large hand on a too-long arm, clearly not human, but also not the other possibility, thankfully. Wreathed in white, and clearly made of segmented parts, with little sharp nubs coming off in places. It has no elbow- not really. It connects
around an empty circle, a pattern repeated in the deep divot in its palm- so deep that your Aura slowly darkens and fades into nothing around it.
All of that, sprouted from the back of your neck.
"{What the hell…? This has-
never happened before.}"
"I've never heard of anything like this. But- look at the way it's moving. It's like it's… searching."
The hand sways into view, and you see the gesture- ring and pinky curled, middle half curled, thumb and index pointed out, ready to pinch at something. You'd know that gesture anywhere- it's the same one you make every time you lose your black wallet on your black desk, before you eventually give up and the Transistor tells you it's actually in your hoodie pocket.
So, if you were going to guess- an activity that causes another stab of pain through your temple- it
is searching. Slowly, methodically, and, this is important, with little success.
Wait. Is- it
can't be.
"It's... I think it's my Semblance. Or- some part of it, anyway."
"... And there are no electronics for it to latch onto. Oh God, uh- maybe it's time to reconnect?"
The hand suddenly stops, finger pointing at Yang- she stares at it, then points at herself in confusion, the way you do when you're not sure someone is talking to you.
"... Wait, why am I trying to communicate with it-" she asks herself after a moment, before the hand rushes in, holding its palm up to her. "Uh… Jaune?"
You try and think of pulling it back, but you can't really
feel it- it's not…
your hand. Your
physical hand, that you can control with your
brain. You have to- there's-
1d6 = 1
Nothing you can do. It's entirely beyond you, and not just because it seems to be almost
autonomous. It's a new limb that you don't know how to control, and seems to have a mind of its own. Whatever happens next is out of your hands.
Yang stares at the palm for a long moment, before, hesitantly, raising her own hand, and flaring her own Aura. Bright yellow light surrounds her, and she presses her hand against… yours?
"{Wait, I don't think this is a good idea,}" Blue interjects, though you note he doesn't actually put any effort into
stopping it from occurring. Curious bastard.
Yours, your Semblance whispers in the back of your head, and the headache pulses a little harder for the answer.
From your perspective, you see yellow and white press against each other, resisting for just a moment, before you feel a ripple start at the back of your neck and travel up this phantom limb- your Aura changes, and you watch them
mix.
But- Auras don't
mix like- there's a flash of light, and then little else. All of the pain in your head is washed away by the sensation of something else.
You remember scales. Fire. Anger. Soft, shiny hair. A red wagon. The face of a severe woman. A deep,
deep heat, rumbling away in the core of something like an
engine.
It all comes at once, and it passes over you leaving nothing behind- nothing but one memory, clasped tight in your third hand.
Behold- one of the three parts of the soul. One only a few people will ever see so clearly, and even fewer will ever truly understand. Only the sheer strength of this metaphysical organ has allowed Jaune to achieve something so unlikely, in a life full of unlikely things.
Before you worry; Yang's soul is too strong to let this be done without her wishing for it. This moment is mutual in every aspect. She allowed her hand to be taken- and as you have taken her hand, she has taken yours.
You have pulled everything from the depths of Yang Xiao Long- a flash of her in totality. You have experienced everything she was and is, and none of it will stay, bar one memory.
Pick the memory you know- to remember as well as Yang does. You may not choose to know nothing- nor may she. The choice was never yours to pull away from this, and now that it has happened, neither can she. She faces this same question, in this same instant. This is no intrusion, and whatever happens next is not something you will go through alone.
What's been done here is neither good, nor bad- merely rare beyond rare.
Which memory do you keep, remembered in such perfect, terrible clarity that it will feel like you're choking on your own heartbeat?
[] A red wagon.
[] A yearning ache- so cavernous and hollow that its pain echoes over you, again, again, again...
[] Love and light. Something so precious that it drives the breath from you.
[] A sacred rage- her motive force. Fuel for the great engine.
