This may pose a problem. Pyrrha has surmised, very correctly you might add, that Jaune is a weak-willed sort. Her tactics are working and were he the one standing here instead of you you're certain he'd be exactly the loyal toadie she wants.
There are some principles of nature that even the likes of you know. Even apex predators like Pyrrha are not always looking for a fight. Sometimes they only snarl and bare their teeth because they know their inferiors would never dare fight back. Sometimes baring your fangs right back works. You don't know how to do that in human terms - but the detective does. You drag him to the surface as if by a chain, letting him press against the skin that is 'Jaune Arc' without breaching completely. Balancing them.
There's a thing worth considering, which becomes more obvious when we look at the detective's analysis of Pyrrah ahead of a verbal stealth kill animation (the quick one, up through the lower jaw, not the laboriously repeated stabs to the chest).
I don't think Torchwick quite knew what he was doing when he fed us his law-enforcing rival. He knows we can take his form, and he understands we have some of his memories, but I very much doubt he realized just how intact - or accessible, at least - the good detective's personality would remain. I absolutely don't believe he knew he was offering a free Insight and Investigation proficiency to a Grimm contact whose prior human experience was drawn entirely from the well of Jaune "It'll Be Fine" Arc. If he did, he'd have just fed us a tramp or something. He values competent assistants, not ones who can see right through him, and gullible Grimm muscle would have been far more malleable.
...actually, on that note, did eating the people-kebab give us another form? Or no, since they were already dead, we never knew what they looked like, and we only got processed pieces anyway?
It's quite strange, really. You were so terrified of Schnee. Jaune was so cowed by Pyrrha. The detective just thinks they're both adorable. Maybe because he's dealt with far worse.
"What do you think this is?" you ask, and you don't even raise your voice. "Is it just a game to you? Just another competition? D'you think there'll be anyone watching you show off, or is this just so you can have something to brag about once you do get to Beacon?"
I'm left wondering what this Pyrrah's backstory is. She's not the bizarrely shrinking violet of canon, who just wants to hide from her celebrity, sit back and Be Normal (christ, how many characters had that as a motivation at a school for monster hunters). She's taking charge and making names, putting herself forward and first. So if she was an athlete/fight club celebrity/whatever, as our analysis of her Psyche-Locks suggests, then what's she doing at Beacon?
She pauses. Thinking. Taking her eyes off you to scan the other potentials behind you. You don't have to turn, the detective's got them pretty much pegged in the back of your mind already. Pyrrha's got four options; the other three girls, the other four guys, you or nothing. Schnee'll be fighting her for command every step of the way, the cat-eared one'll just make it worse needling them both, and Yang won't take any of her shit - the detective predicts it'll become a 'rolling bitch tornado'.
"Maybe you're not willing to take this seriously but I am. So you'll learn my name right now, or we're gonna waste a lot more time than we already have arguing about this."
Silence falls. Pyrrha blinks at you. You blink right back. That was not... entirely what you had planned when you started talking. Some Jaune came back at the end there. A veritable wellspring of bitterness and anger that would've otherwise been diluted by Jaune's cowardice came spraying out like venom. It makes you feel strange. Drained somehow, as if you only just managed to stem a gushing wound.
"... where the hell'd that come from?" Yang wonders aloud.
A- all part of our cunning plan. If we establish that we're bipolar early on, we have a convenient excuse for inconsistent behaviour!
More seriously, it makes me wonder how much control we really have here. Right now we're letting Jaune and the Detective each rest a hand on the wheel as we roll along in cruise control, because this is a Human Situation with a Human Solution - and it seems like Jaune took that opportunity to nudge the wheel to the left. I don't think he's a conscious entity that can deliberately "fight" us in the obvious sense, but it's still troubling. Makes me wonder what the counter is - develop our own Human Solutions?
It starts small. Possessed wildlife lurking in the shadows of the eaves, tainted veins of shadow pulsing sickly on their hides, peering at the two of you with gleaming vermillion-tinted eyes. Pyrrha drives them away with just the same principle you used on her - charging them head-on, shouting and screaming, smashing her sword on her shield again and again until they flee the crashing metal. There's only one that tactic doesn't work on. One wolf, bigger and broader and older than the rest, so corrupted that it towers over Pyrrha on its hind legs. One eye gleaming yellow. The other, the one staring through the half-formed bone mask forcing its way through the fur and hide, a blank scarlet orb.
Interesting that these Grimm are so... corruption-based. They're things that have been warped or possessed, like animals, people, or corpses - and presumably even inanimate objects. Maybe Penny could be an attempt to create a synthetic "possession" of a robot body? If she's even around, that is.
The banner's power is like... 'exercise', you see from another peek into Jaune's mind. It leeches at the power stored by your past meals, the cells of 'fat', of story and identity. Your closest facsimile to what you're missing, something intrinsically human. Whether it's directly worsening your hunger or just torturing you by complete coincidence, it forces you to consider a very dire possibility - starving. Beacon is a school, a closed environment full of watchful Hunters and Hunters-to-be, ruled by that Ozpin man the Snow Queen wishes you to spy on. A very small pool of prey indeed, tough prey that will make life incredibly difficult for you should you be so foolish as to actually eat any of them.
Is there any way to preserve Grimm kills for later consumption? Do Hunter families have walls of stuffed Bosenwulf heads, so we can take up a sudden interest in taxidermy and trophy collecting on our occasional field trips? Stock up on lots of Ursa jerky after collecting sap, or whatever?
How long can we go without eating, assuming regular exercise, sparring, etc?
Are there any other ways for us to feed, other than straight-up chowing down on people, animals, and Grimm? We're going to be learning about Grimm at Beacon, so that might be a good chance to see if there are any Grimm that feed in subtler ways, such as on Aura or breath or good vibrations or even just blood, Dracula-style.
Is there any way to preserve Grimm kills for later consumption? Do Hunter families have walls of stuffed Bosenwulf heads, so we can take up a sudden interest in taxidermy and trophy collecting on our occasional field trips? Stock up on lots of Ursa jerky after collecting sap, or whatever?
In canon, the White Fang wore Grimm masks to show off how badass they were. Free meals for Jaune? Though if Zerban keeps that, I expect the masks would give the White Fang Grimm powers at the cost of their sanity and an increased desire to murder things...
In canon, the White Fang wore Grimm masks to show off how badass they were. Free meals for Jaune? Though if Zerban keeps that, I expect the masks would give the White Fang Grimm powers at the cost of their sanity and an increased desire to murder things...
I feel as though Zerban's got a better way of handling the fantasy racism than making the people who want to be treated better wear masks of the actual factual shadow monsters.
In canon, the White Fang wore Grimm masks to show off how badass they were. Free meals for Jaune? Though if Zerban keeps that, I expect the masks would give the White Fang Grimm powers at the cost of their sanity and an increased desire to murder things...
I feel as though Zerban's got a better way of handling the fantasy racism than just making the people who want to be treated better wear masks of the actual factual shadow monsters.
In canon, the White Fang wore Grimm masks to show off how badass they were. Free meals for Jaune? Though if Zerban keeps that, I expect the masks would give the White Fang Grimm powers at the cost of their sanity and an increased desire to murder things...
To be honest that's one of the things I'm gleefully looking forward to here. Zerban's a damn good writer, and he knows how to make things actually threatening. The Grimm were always one of the things that drew me to RWBY and I already love how they're being presented as a corruption rather than just "animals but sp00ky", I can't wait to see what happens when we get a chance to see how more of how terrifying these monsters that pushed humanity to the brink are.
[X] Send a pack of wolves. Middle-of-the-road and dependable, capable of using cooperation to bring down something on the bigger side if need be. But there are a lot of them, and they'll be harder to hide.
[X] Do it yourself. Let Pyrrha get distracted fighting her way through the next pack of Grimm you encounter and scarf up as much as you can while her back is turned.
There are some things in life you've got to do yourself. That seems to be more of a general statement of humanity than uniquely either Jaune's or the detective's perspective but it makes sense. You need something big, something filling, and your familiars won't get you that without drawing a lot of undue attention. And most of all you need to get it subtly, where the prying eyes of other hunters-to-be or whoever else might be lurking in the forest can't reach you so easily. Pyrrha could be a problem, but you've broken ground as far as she's concerned. It's a risk you have to take.
You wave her ahead. "Let's keep going."
Through the trackless woods, over hill and dale, splashing through a cold stream. The canopy provides enough shadow for your liking, but you're still not quite at ease. It's strange to have to skid down eroding dirt slopes and fumble your way through thick roots like grasping claws with Jaune's ungainly body. You both belong and don't belong here, so far from the path that even the midday light can't quite reach, the trees looming all around you like ancient barkskinned obelisks. You just focus on keeping pace with Pyrrha's ever-retreating back, banner furled and held chest-height like a spear.
You get into trouble again, of course. This forest is thick enough with Grimm that even if the breeds weren't from wildly different climates you have no idea how they haven't turned on each other or dispersed long ago. The only difference is in how quickly the trouble arrives. You don't actually perceive it, certainly not with any of Jaune's senses. You're passing through rocky clearing when all of a sudden something just twinges. It's an older instinct, a primal instinct. Something that can feel the shifting currents of light and shadow like water. You shout a warning to Pyrrha practically the second that the latest Grimm leaps out at her, a blur of white and black, burning eyes leaving scarlet afterimages with the sheer speed of its lunge.
The swipe misses, but only barely. There's a furrow in the earth behind it, a deeper furrow before it where the near-miss practically split the earth. Pyrrha completes her roll away and comes up in a crouch, hiding as much of herself as possible behind her shield. A few tattered scraps of cloth from her half-cloak and strands of hair, just as red, flutter to the ground. For a moment the two of you simply stare at it, and for that moment it's distracted enough to let you.
It's another towering humanoid shape; an adolescent on the cusp of adulthood by the state of its mask, not yet grown to cover its jaw. It's armoured in horny protrusions and bone-white scales, only scattered patches across its broad chest and trunk-like legs yet its arms are almost completely sheathed. It scrabbles at its snout as you watch, coal-black claws skittering uselessly over its own mask, failing again and again to catch and slice through the silver cord binding its jaw shut. Thick steam huffs from its nostrils, violet light shining through its tightly shut fangs. It lets out a muffled yet no less enraged roar as it whirls to take its frustrations out on Pyrrha.
She's already dashing forward, dropping into a roll and vanishing between its legs. Her short sword flickers out like a bronze streak as she rises, striking tendons, joints, arteries, anything even close to a more conventional opponent's weak points. But this beast is no conventional opponent - her blade slides off even its unarmoured hide as if it were completely blunt. It spins on a dime with terrifying speed, raising its own personal dust devil as it throws a punishing swipe at Pyrrha's head. She rolls with the blow, deflecting it off her shield and rising in a half-crouch.
"Know this one?" she barks.
"Not native!" you reply. What a powerful strain it must be to be so hard to kill already! You're already salivating at the prospect of consuming it. Which is very inappropriate right now so you conceal that fact by hiding your mouth behind your sleeve and raise your banner. "Take the mask?"
"The mask?"
"Pry it off, trust me!" you shout, spiking your banner securely in the earth and letting it unfurl.
The Grimm brings its claw down with enough force to split stone. Pyrrha raises her shield and pirouettes with the blow, ebony claws sparking as they skate across the surface and land uselessly in the dirt. Only a half-second's chance, but she takes it. She slings her shield on her back with the motion, snatching at the beast's lowered arm with her now-free hand as she scarpers up its limb like a cat. For just a moment it seems stunned by her sheer gall. But then it's moving again, practically flickering as it darts sideways and aims to dash her against a nearby boulder. She leaps, catching hold of its armoured spine and holding on for dear life as the Grimm's arm shatters the stone to rubble instead.
Up she swarms, teeth gritted in a savage snarl, gripping its broad neck with her knees to steady herself. K-think goes her blade as she drives it into the seam between mask and shadow. Thump thump thump goes her palm as she drives it into the pommel, hammering the sword in like a nail. The beast spins wildly, swiping madly this way and that, tossing its head in a desperate attempt to dislodge her. Thick clouds of choking dust rise, more stone debris flies sky-high and rains down, even solid tree trucks splinter and fall around it as it lashes out in pain and confusion. Pyrrha weathers it all, grunting with pain as wild blows skate off her shield.
Its claws finally curl around her in earnest, trapping her in its bone-crushing grip. Pyrrha throws her head back in a shout of pain and anger, lashing out with one last kick.
With a wet, sucking crack, the bone plate comes free. The mask falls, trailing wisps of shadow like woodsmoke, bouncing once before coming to a stop at your feet. The Grimm itself seems to just... switch off. Frozen mid-movement, eyes wide and staring and sightless. Letting out nothing but a monotonous, choking gurgle as Pyrrha squirms free of its unresisting claws.
You're not sure if it was going to recover, then or ever. Pyrrha calls her blade back and cleaves open the nape of its neck with a reverse-grip slash and a shout of effort. The light leaves the Grimm's naked face as its head simply... flops forward on half a neck and none of a spine. Followed shortly by the rest of its massive, dead frame.
You see your chance and you go for it.
You drop flat on the ground and tear open your maw, practically throwing the unfamiliar Grimm's cracked mask down your gullet like a coin in a slot a moment before its corpse comes down like a hammer on an anvil. You let out an all-too-real cry of pain, minds rattling around in your empty skull like dice in a cup. For a moment you fear you'll vomit up your prize, but after a heartstopping second you find it. Safe and sound right where it belongs, dissolving in the well of shadow. Making off with another predator's just reward - oh it's almost nostalgic.
More grunts of effort, dull impacts as what feels like a battering ram kicks the Grimm's carcass off you bit by bit. At last it slumps on its side and you're free, daylight streaming down once more. You wince and cough into your fist, still aching from the impact. Pyrrha stands over you, peering down at you.
"You alright?" she asks.
"-khh- yeah. Just stunned me I think." She doesn't offer you her hand and you don't ask for it. You just plant your banner for a stable perch and make your way back up to your feet a bit at a time. Ow. That was... bracing. But on the other hand, you can't deny that you feel nourished!
"What was that all about?"
"Hm? Oh, I just didn't move-"
"No, not getting flattened." She lets go of her sword as she speaks, but it doesn't fall. It just spins a quick dozen or so revolutions, turning to a bronze blur as the Grimm blood caking the blade doesn't so much fly off as reverse off. When she grasps the hilt again it's as clean as the day it was forged. "The mask trick, how'd you know it'd work?"
You take a deep breath. And you let a few of Jaune's mannerisms back to the surface, because those are quite good at stalling for time. "Oh, I uh, Hunter family and all so we have a lot of, y'know, documentation. Grimm masks are where they keep their-" identities? egoes? No, too much detail, only a Grimm would know that specifically "-powers, or something like that."
You pause. It just occurred to you that you have no idea what your mask must have looked like before you devoured Jaune. Or... indeed if you even had one. You must have, mustn't you? But you were- are a formless Shadow, a mask is calcified self, something solid and permanent and Real, or as much as any Grimm can be Real. In any case you suppose that Jaune himself is the closest thing to your mask now, him and the de- you have been spending far too long on this mental tangent and now Pyrrha is looking at you strangely.
"(... sorry spaced out for a second there,)" you say sheepishly. "Point is that masks are a weak point on younger Grimm. Hit 'em there and it hurts more, pry it off and- well, you just saw. The older ones have bigger, thicker ones so that tactic has a bit of an expiration date."
"Hm," she says. Bright emerald eyes flicking around the disturbed dirt underfoot. "Where'd it go anyway?"
"Mm?"
"The mask."
"O-oh!" Your eyes dart around rapidly, only to freeze when she looks back up again. "I think it -we- fell on it. Shattered it to smithereens. They can be pretty brittle at that age."
She narrows her eyes slightly, jaw canted as she considers your lie. And then she shrugs, the strangeness forgotten. "Whatever. Would've liked it for my wall, but there'll be others."
She shrugs her shield back down onto her arm, turning and walking away. The detective thinks you should say something meaningful under your breath, like 'ain't no other like me' or something. You think he should shush because he's had his turn. You give your stomach a comforting pat for the road and set off after her, banner politely furling itself again for the trip.
***
You realise, cruelly, that hunger and fatigue are not the same thing to humans. Alleviating one does not protect you against the other. As the sun dips down towards Vale in the west and you draw ever-closer to the feet of Beacon itself, you find that everything aches and your chest hurts and sweat is pouring down your face and you want to die again. The alcoholic abuse you put the faux-Jaune body through the previous night likely isn't helping either. Your strides are sloppy and you keep leaning on your banner to stop yourself falling. But the end is in sight! A small town comes into view, nestled in the shadow of Beacon high above like a sandcastle hiding behind a rock from the oncoming tide. It reminds you of the town you saw in Jaune's memories, rural but upscale, well-cared-for.
Pyrrha comes to a stop on a hill overlooking the town and takes a moment to triumphantly appreciate the view. Her shadow stretches out before her, longer and longer by the moment, and you hastily adjust the length of yours to match as you draw up beside her.
"Hah, just as I thought," she says, turning to look at you. "Here we are, not a scratch on us, and..."
She trails off, her eyes narrowing as she almost audibly locks her gaze on something behind you. You whirl around and see it too.
The pair that vanished while everyone was arguing after Ruby left. The slender man with a coloured streak in his hair and the ginger woman that was talking at him. He holding a bow with bladed limbs, she holding a warhammer with some kind of mechanism behind the head. Too far away to smell the specific kinds of Dust in their construction. Just close enough to notice you notice them. Close enough to lock eyes with you and Pyrrha for a long, tense moment. The four of you turn as one to look at the sheer cliff the town is nestled against, rising up and up and up until Beacon seems to be riding atop the crest of a stone wave poised to come crashing down. Accessible, as far as you can tell, by nothing but a staircase cut into the side. And there, up at the very top, so far it's difficult to really see clearly, is a pair of flags. You don't quite get the significance.
"... I don't-" you start to say out loud break the silence.
The ginger woman leaps on the man's back and thrusts her hammer forward. "ONWARD!"
You're not quite sure what happens next because Pyrrha scoops you up under her arm like a suitcase.
"Wah!" you cry.
"I am not coming in second to them!" she growls, and sprints. The world turns to a jerking, juddering, smeared mess of shapes and colours as she rockets down the hill and through the town, no sound but her pounding feet and puffing lungs and your own startled cries. It's all you can do to keep hold of your banner, much less try to ask what's going on or why it's so important to get there first.
"ONWARD MORE, REN!" the woman with the hammer cries again, somewhere vaguely beside you.
"I'm going as 'onward' as I can," the man -Ren- replies, sounding only slightly out of breath despite being at a dead sprint with someone his age clinging to his back.
Pyrrha just snarls and pours on more speed. The bouncing and jostling and shaking only grows faster and faster while her actual lateral speed slows - ah, it's time for the myriad stairs, then. You can tell because every so often Pyrrha whirls around on a hairpin turn and you want to vomit all over again. Everything's rattling everything's aching, everything's terrible and you want nothing more than for this to stop. You think you can actually hear both women screaming. Jaune and the detective are both as lost as you are - no one can help you now.
And then it finally stops. Pyrrha comes to a screeching halt and more or less throws you to the ground. You roll just from her remaining momentum, over and over and over until you at last come to a stop flat on your back, clutching your banner tight to your chest as if it can still save you. You're left staring up at the sky, the clouds high above beginning to turn orange as the sun sinks even lower.
A man stands over you, practically towers in fact. He has to be half a foot taller than Jaune, and the angle you're seeing him from only makes that more readily apparent. He's dressed in a black suit with matching vest and gloves, his undershirt and scarf a deep forest-green. A pair of small, dark spectacles sit perched on his nose, doing absolutely nothing to hide his golden-amber eyes. His silver hair is mussed-up and carefree, as if he only just got out of bed. His cane, a gilded silver thing that's all segments and brassy cogs, rests against the rough stone floor just by your ear.
"Afternoon!" he says. He lifts his cane and indicates something beyond your field of view. "Second." The tip returns and he points at Pyrrha, visible just out of the corner of your eye. "And third."
You hear Pyrrha growl and kick something, a whole bunch of dishes rattling and shifting dangerously from the aftershock. A moment later you hear a dull thwack as someone lands flat on the ground not far from you. You force yourself to roll over with a soft groan and get a better look at your surroundings; it's Beacon's central courtyard, the paving stones beneath laid out in a pattern of concentric circles radiating outward from a small circle of emerald-green grass. A gnarled old tree grows there, tall as five men and near-colourless with age, its leaves a shock of bright orange and russet red.
The main academy lies beyond, guarded by a statue of a proud Hunter with his sword held high. Towering above you even after the climb you (well, Pyrrha) made, ancient stones for an ancient place of learning. And in the more immediate vicinity, several tables of food and refreshments, much like the buffet from the airship. Ruby waves at you from her seat on a nearby bench, her free hand occupied by a mug of -you sniff- hot chocolate.
"Hey guys!"
"How long have you been here?" Pyrrha asks.
"Ohhhhh about..." Ruby makes vague gestures with her hands, "fffffour, maybe five hours?" She pauses, cradling her mug in both hands and shrinking down sheepishly. "I had to stay here so I wouldn't go back and ruin the exam for everyone."
Pyrrha dips her head and makes a few half-hearted gestures with her hands, not even bothering to vocalise whatever it is she's feeling. She just makes a beeline for the closest table and starts knocking back waters from the offered pitcher like it's going out of style. You get to work actually standing up, and notice Ren still lying flat on the pavement. His long black hair surrounds his face like a tangled nest, completely hiding it from view.
"Hey Reeeeen?" Nora almost singsongs, crouched beside him.
"(mm?)"
"I'm gonna go get some searing hot coffee to splash on your face so you're nice and chipper for the welcoming speech, mmkay?"
"(mmm)"
"Mmmkay."
"(m-mmm...)"
The good news is that the human food doesn't tempt you even a little bit. The brand new Grimm has digested nicely, and you probe at it like a new tooth as you mainline your own waters - from another table of course, Pyrrha seems quite dedicated to hydration - and wait for the others to arrive. The even better news is that you don't have long to wait. Soon you hear familiar voices rising from below the cliff face, slowly approaching as their owners climb the stairs.
"Well maybe if you were a little bit more careful with your strikes-!"
"Well maybe if you knew left from right-!"
"My left! I stated very clearly it was my left!"
"I was right next to you, left is left bitch!"
That'd be the ah... aforementioned tornado. You glance at the silver-haired man with the cane. He just stands there, quiet and still, entirely unbothered by the screaming argument reaching his ears.
"Clearly that... that toilet hooch has blinded you as well as completely ruined your sense of balance!"
"Wow. 'Toilet hooch'. Real five-star pull there, Princess. Have you ever actually been outside, or has it just been a series of Schnee-brand Envirobubbles?"
"You are just impossible! This whole trip you have done nothing but whine and complain!"
"I'm so sorry, I guess it's just in my nature to steal your jobs."
"Wha- that- that was uncalled-for."
Quite the opposite, the man seems to be relishing the thought of how the three will react when they crest the final rise.
"But seriously though she's right, is that paint-thinner in your flask or did something just crawl in there and die?"
"Hey man, didn't see you complaining when I torched those Grimm!"
"Yeah, because they still smelled better."
"You see? You see what I was trying to work with? She's just trying to be difficult!"
"No I'm not. I'm succeeding. Huge difference."
The corner of the silver-haired man's mouth quirks up.
"Well thank you, truly, this particular trip through monster-infested woods has been both bracing and enlightening! At this point I don't even care if I wind up with the street-rat and the vomiting one, so long as I never have to look at either of you. Ever. Agai-"
The three women finally climb into view and freeze. They look at the man with the cane, and he looks at them.
"Ladies," he says. "Welcome to my school."
Schnee makes a face like a rat just crawled up the back of her throat and into her mouth to die and she's trying not to show it. "Professor Ozpiiiin!" she fires back with a voice packed to the brim with false cheer, bringing her hands together so fast there's an audible clap. "You didn't happen to overhear any... minor leadership teething troubles, did you?"
"Very informative. I'll be taking all of your feedback into consideration for my final evaluations, rest assured," he replies in a reassuring voice that's almost completely sincere.
From Schnee's face it looks like a second rat just joined the first. But she smiles a wide, fake, strained smile and simply replies "(thank you so much for this opportunityyyyy)" before beating a hasty retreat past the professor and to the food tables. The cat-eared one shrugs shallowly and moves past, the incident seemingly forgotten already. Yang does one better, giving Ozpin a casual "Hey" and a wave as she beelines for Ruby. He seems to double-take if only slightly, giving his own shallow shrug.
You're sure you should be trying to eavesdrop on whatever Ruby and Yang are talking about, or even butting in since you already have something of a rapport with them, but you can't tear your eyes away from Ozpin. There's just something so... disappointing? About the sight of the man. This was a man that the Snow Queen ordered you to investigate personally. Not just infiltrate his school and spy on his students and subordinates but to get close to him, personally. You suppose it's a bit early to be making any judgements anyway.
The sun's dipped noticeably lower in the sky by the time the final team makes its way up the final rise. The man with the slicked-back hair leading the way, heavy mace shouldered, taking in the sight of everyone else waiting for them with a look of grim resignation. His fine clothes are rumpled and slightly scorched, but he doesn't seem to have a scratch on him himself. The tall, broad one comes next, leading the one that hurt his arm -Sky, you think he said back on the ship- up the rest of the stairs. The tall one is sporting some fresh bruises and Sky seems to have hurt his leg. Finally there's the shabbily-dressed one with the half-shaved head. Now that you have time to look properly you can see the feathers mingled in with the hair he has left. He looks completely haggard, anxiously scratching the back of his neck with sharp black nails.
"And that makes our fifth and final group," Ozpin says. "Would you like a minute to collect yourselves before the evaluations?"
The leader looks back at his group, silently scanning each of their faces. The only answer he receives is varying flavours of pained resignation. Slumped shoulders, eyes downcast. The leader takes a deep breath, draws himself up to his full height, and turns back to face Ozpin.
"No, we're ready."
"Excellent." He turns his head and raises his voice, calling out to everyone lingering by the food and drink. "Everyone, gather 'round if you please!"
There's a silent rustle and hubbub as a dozen prospective students from all walks of life huddle together in the shadow of the great tree, clumped in front of Ozpin. He waits patiently for everyone to be silent and still, for all eyes to be on him. That's when he pulls the lever by the handle of his cane. All at once clockwork begins to ratchet and whir and catch, brassy gears visibly spinning through a clear plate on the side. He lifts it up off the ground and it begins to shorten, segment by segment, clicking and clunking, expanding, retracting, reshaping into the trick-weapon of the headmaster himself.
He detaches the bottom from the grip and pours steaming black coffee into the newly-expanded mug in his hand. He takes a sip with obvious relish, letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction that steams in the rapidly-cooling air.
"Now," he says. "As you've all surmised by now I'm sure, the crash was no accident. You were not intended to be in real danger. A barrier was erected around the section of the forest we used for this test in order to keep the Grimm from running amok, and progressively shrunk over the course of the day to prevent any of you wandering off and getting lost. The Grimm we released were quite real, but you were monitored from afar by my colleagues and I in case of an emergency. I refuse to accept any but the best at Beacon, and my little test today was intended to weed out all but exactly that. Rest assured that if you had not left the crash site until the barrier shrank past you, I would have failed you immediately."
He takes another sip. This time he exhales through his nose, twin trails of almost imperceptible steam wafting away in the breeze.
"Miss Rose," he says, turning to face Ruby in particular. She shrinks immediately beneath the weight of his full attention, evidently trying to hide her entire body in her hood and cloak. "I must say, when I heard you were fast, I didn't expect you to be this fast. You might've ruined the entire enterprise had I not caught you when I did."
"Er. Sorry?"
"Admittedly if this were a real emergency, a variant on your response would be entirely warranted," he goes on, ignoring the half-hearted apology. "But as far as communication with your fellow students, you did poorly. Quite poorly indeed. Huntsmen do not work alone. Are we clear?"
"Uh, yessir!"
"Good! Call it a C- and don't do it again." He turns to Nora and Ren. The latter at least seems to have rubbed away all but the deepest impressions of the pavement from his face. "You two seem to have quite the rapport going already. Top marks in the interpersonal relationship field, and more than handy enough in your battles. However, you were much too quick to abandon your fellow students and rely only on each other. Huntsman teams are traditionally between three and four individuals, and leaving an 'odd man out' could have catastrophic consequences in the field. I'm still considering whether or not to break you up altogether. Otherwise, A-."
"Did'ja hear that? You were slightly below perfect," Nora says, elbowing Ren lightly.
"Don't you mean 'we'?"
"Oh I'm a straight-up goddess Ren, it's not my fault some people can't comprehend perfection."
"People do have difficulty comprehending you, yeah."
Ozpin pretends to ignore the pair interrupting him, moving on to... you and Pyrrha, oh dear. He pauses, not just to let those two finish up but to inspect the pair of you. Swirling the thoughts around in his head like the coffee in his cup. Head tilted slightly as he considers your performance.
"Admirable work," he says at last. "While you had a rocky start, you were able to come to a compromise and work together when the need arose. However, Miss Nikos-" he turns to face her in particular "-while your combat skill is of course peerless, abducting Mister Arc in order to hoard his supportive abilities for yourself was very poor form. Being part of a Huntsman team is about collaboration, not competition. Do try to remember that. A respectable B."
Pyrrha's jaw tightens, but she offers no complaint or argument. You wonder if that's the first below-perfect evaluation she's received in a very long time. In fact you yourself have to wonder if it's really fair to have gotten a grade that much lower than Nora and Ren. Not that you really know anything about human scoring systems you suppose, let alone whatever arcane logic Ozpin is using.
"Ladies," he says again, eyes alighting on the trio. Yang and the one with cat-ears meet his gaze fearlessly. Schnee looks like she's under a microscope. "Hm. I do believe I'm repeating myself, but I will say again that being a Huntsman is about collaboration, not competition. All three of you are quite capable in your own right, but today I saw about as much unit cohesion among you as a gang of football hooligans smashing their way down main street."
Schnee visibly winces, clearly at war between making excuses and staying politely silent.
"Miss Schnee. Respect is earned, not given. Making demands of obedience served only to sour the well for everyone."
"Mmm- but I- yessir," Schnee replies half-heartedly.
"Miss Yang, anyone with eyes could see you were more interested in showboating and killing Grimm than making it to your goal. Bloodthirst and hubris are unbecoming traits."
Yang purses her lips and shrugs as if to say 'well you got me there'.
"And Miss Belladonna," he says finally, pausing a moment to inspect her more closely. "Your attitude was worst of all."
"What?" she blurts out.
"Hah!" Schnee exclaims.
Ozpin looks at her.
"... (sorry)."
He clears his throat and returns his attention to Belladonna. "As I was saying. Miss Schnee was extremely abrasive in her attempts to assume command but at least she was attempting to assume the responsibilities of a leadership role. Miss Yang was overly combative and slowed your group down with unnecessary fighting but she was at least proactive. You, on the other hand, were content to mock and belittle the two of them while offering nothing of your own. That is not a very sustainable attitude to hold in my school."
There's a strange tension in the air between them. A friction just waiting to spark into a flame, a leaden weight that stills even the air. She's glaring at him and he's matching her, blink for blink. There's something more at work here, something the detective can clue you in on the fact of but nothing else. And then, quick as it started, it's over. Belladonna breaks eye contact and looks as disinterested as ever. Nor does Ozpin push the point.
"C. You pass, but only barely. You have a long way to go, I'm afraid."
He turns to the final group, the slowest and most ragtag of the lot. All four of them visibly tense, awaiting the no doubt even harsher dressing-down to come. Ozpin lets them sweat. He takes a nice, long sip of his coffee and looks at each of them in turn before he speaks again.
"Mister Winchester," he says. "I may be most impressed with your team of all."
There's an audible double-take from every person there, including you. You're fairly certain you hear Schnee hiss "what" and Nora whisper "(oh dang)" under her breath. Sky and the bird-faunus street kid in particular both seem about ready to pass out in relief.
"True leadership is teasing the maximum potential out of the tools you are given, and you did a fine job of exactly that today," Ozpin goes on. "Being a Huntsman is about more than raw combat prowess, and you recognised that in your comrade." He inclines his head at Sky. "You outsmarted or otherwise slipped away from many foes that would have been suicidal -for want of a better word- to engage, and when forced to fight you were able to coordinate your team on at least a rudimentary level. The only note I'll give you for the day is that there is a fine line between leading your teammates and simply bullying them into following you - you rode that line quite closely, Mister Winchester."
Winchester just nods and exhales, clearly still wrestling with the idea that his team wasn't the biggest disaster of the bunch.
"A solid B+ effort. I see a great deal of room for growth."
He gives a satisfied sigh. "Quite the productive first day of your schooling, isn't it? Go on and relax, eat, let yourselves recover. We will deal with team and room assignments once my colleagues are finished cleaning up."
A soft, collective sigh of relief erupts from the gathered crowd as everyone immediately disperses, ambling off to graze on the food or just sit down on the offered benches and breathe. Ozpin wanders off closer to the edge of the cliff, looking out over the sun-dappled forest below to the snow-capped mountain peaks to the north and south. You're vaguely tempted to approach him. You quickly realise how stupid that would be, and think better of it. Better to talk to your new 'classmates' some more, build up a strong social presence with which to absorb information. You did well enough last time - between that and dealing with Pyrrha you're practically on a roll!
[ ] Belladonna and the street kid. There seems to be something more at work below the surface for the both of them, and you're interested to know what.
[ ] Schnee and Winchester. They seem to be deep in conversation - well, she seems to be complaining at him as the only one close enough to her status for it and he seems to be humouring her. Eavesdropping alone might prove useful.
[ ] Ruby and Sky. She seems to have latched onto him over something. Maybe whatever it is he can do that warranted Ozpin's specific approval?
[ ] Yang and Pyrrha. Well, this was pretty much inevitable. The two toughest, most aggressive killers of the pack are sizing each other up. This could be interesting and/or catastrophic.
[ ] Ren and Nora. Maybe Ozpin had a point about them being too close, they're the only ones that aren't mingling. Who better to expand their social circle than you, then?
Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Dec 8, 2017 at 4:32 PM, finished with 64 posts and 42 votes.
[X] Schnee and Winchester. They seem to be deep in conversation - well, she seems to be complaining at him as the only one close enough to her status for it and he seems to be humouring her. Eavesdropping alone might prove useful.
[X] Ren and Nora. Maybe Ozpin had a point about them being too close, they're the only ones that aren't mingling. Who better to expand their social circle than you, then?
[X] Yang and Pyrrha. Well, this was pretty much inevitable. The two toughest, most aggressive killers of the pack are sizing each other up. This could be interesting and/or catastrophic.
[X] Belladonna and the street kid. There seems to be something more at work below the surface for the both of them, and you're interested to know what.
[X] Schnee and Winchester. They seem to be deep in conversation - well, she seems to be complaining at him as the only one close enough to her status for it and he seems to be humouring her. Eavesdropping alone might prove useful.
[X] Schnee and Winchester. They seem to be deep in conversation - well, she seems to be complaining at him as the only one close enough to her status for it and he seems to be humouring her. Eavesdropping alone might prove useful.
[X] Yang and Pyrrha. Well, this was pretty much inevitable. The two toughest, most aggressive killers of the pack are sizing each other up. This could be interesting and/or catastrophic.
[X] Ren and Nora. Maybe Ozpin had a point about them being too close, they're the only ones that aren't mingling. Who better to expand their social circle than you, then?
"So, what's your story?"
"... Stuff. And things."
"Wow. Sounds so exiting. Mind giving me a little more detail there, champ?"
[x] Yang and Pyrrha. Well, this was pretty much inevitable. The two toughest, most aggressive killers of the pack are sizing each other up. This could be interesting and/or catastrophic.
So am I the only one afraid that Ozpin saw us suspiciously devour a Grimm mask? Because he sure seems to have seen pretty much everything else that happened here.
Pyrrha's jaw tightens, but she offers no complaint or argument. You wonder if that's the first below-perfect evaluation she's received in a very long time. In fact you yourself have to wonder if it's really fair to have gotten a grade that much lower than Nora and Ren. Not that you really know anything about human scoring systems you suppose, let alone whatever arcane logic Ozpin is using.
He's probably giving low/high grades to use who need them rather than those who deserve them. Pyrrha needs a less-than-perfect grade to apply herself properly, and so she'd get one if Ozpin could at all justify for.
[X] Ren and Nora. Maybe Ozpin had a point about them being too close, they're the only ones that aren't mingling. Who better to expand their social circle than you, then?
Look, I just want to know if she's actually divine or not.
[X] Ren and Nora. Maybe Ozpin had a point about them being too close, they're the only ones that aren't mingling. Who better to expand their social circle than you, then?
He's likely to be wondering why, exactly, we put ourselves there - but I'm pretty sure it's still less noticeable than any other option but "don't hunt."
After all, he was specifically watching for Grimm who weren't supposed to be present.
[x] Yang and Pyrrha. Well, this was pretty much inevitable. The two toughest, most aggressive killers of the pack are sizing each other up. This could be interesting and/or catastrophic.
[x] Yang and Pyrrha. Well, this was pretty much inevitable. The two toughest, most aggressive killers of the pack are sizing each other up. This could be interesting and/or catastrophic.
[X] Schnee and Winchester. They seem to be deep in conversation - well, she seems to be complaining at him as the only one close enough to her status for it and he seems to be humouring her. Eavesdropping alone might prove useful.
[X] Ren and Nora. Maybe Ozpin had a point about them being too close, they're the only ones that aren't mingling. Who better to expand their social circle than you, then?
[X] Yang and Pyrrha. Well, this was pretty much inevitable. The two toughest, most aggressive killers of the pack are sizing each other up. This could be interesting and/or catastrophic.
', because yes the writing of the White Fang in canon is pretty fucked.
