#allbains

Give us a week. It’s already been two. If those children moved fast enough, they’ll be in one of the other academies by now, and the lamp will already be locked safe and sound inside another vault. Cinder grits her teeth.

Atlas, or Shade. If she were to hazard a guess, she would place her bet on Atlas—but this is too delicate an operation for gambling.

She has to be certain.

Even so, Cinder really cannot afford to waste one more week laying low in the shadows of this starveling under-city. Her injuries have healed; the memory of her unscarred face is still haunting newscasts at irregular but frequent intervals. She has nothing to gain and much to lose if she stays–

—but nothing ventured. Skulking upward to lurk around Haven Academy is a greater risk, but one that stands to offer greater reward. Salem had not been at all pleased with the news of Sienna Khan’s death; and that was before Menagerie had rallied around the Belladonnas and scraped together a militia to answer the coup.

There’d been something on the news last night about a new movement, a revival, announced with a flourish alongside a raft of new faunus-rights legislation the Mistral Council has been persuaded to consider. And one of the broadcasters had mentioned in an aside that the militia is being housed temporarily in the shuttered campus, on the council’s lien and over the protests of the academy’s wealthy human neighbors.

Cinder knows dry kindling when she sees it.

The police barriers have all been taken down by now; the campus stands open to the public and unguarded, save for a few affectedly casual sentries whose wary glances ease when she smiles, waves, lets them see her claws.

Not quite human either, is she?

Then it’s a simple matter of folding herself cross-legged onto a bench in one of the less-traveled niches of the campus, half-hidden by a barrier of flowering shrubs, to pick slowly at her dinner and wait for someone suitably unhappy-looking to pass by. It does not take long.

Neo's feet kicked lightly back and forth, seated upon her perch as she was. Overlooking the city streets beneath her, watching for anyone who should spark her interest. Roman was off, busy with meeting some so-and-so who wanted questionable work done. She'd chosen to stay behind -- she wasn't exactly much good for discussions, not when they weren't likely to turn violent. So the afternoon was hers to spend as she saw fit.

Which meant that she would find someone interesting and tail them for a bit. The one she wound up choosing was a Faunus ( not that she targeted them for that reason alone -- she wasn't a monster ) wearing a rather eye-catching set of robes. Outfits like that usually meant a figure of some level of importance, at least to her mind. Some level of importance usually translated into carrying something worth taking.

So, dropping down from her ledge to the street below, Neo began the careful act of changing form into a passerby, tailing her chosen mark through the crowded Mistali streets.

@allbains liked this post for a starter from Aster!

"Hey Corsac," Aster greeted the other faunus with a smile as he fell into step with him. He knew he tended to keep himself apart from most other people, apart from his brother, but Aster was attempting to change that, at least a little bit. He's astute enough to know that his formal services would likely be looked down upon…., but that doesn't mean he can't make a few new friends, maybe offer a listening ear or two.

He was by himself today, which likely meant that Fennec was at home; maybe he'd drop by to say hello, if Fennec wasn't too opposed to company. Aster did his best to be as friendly and charming as possible, and while he respected boundaries, he still very much wanted to do what he could to figure out a way past the walls, to see the real Corsac and Fennec beneath.

After settling into a job as Beacon Academy's head nurse, Fiona had thought her traveling days were behind her - but then again, she hadn't been expecting Beacon to fall. Nobody had but those who had orchestrated it. Her past failures had been joined by all new ones, the medic weeping for more young lives she couldn't save. With the academy gone, Fiona had seen no other path than to take up a job in Vale - but eventually she could no longer stand the guilt, the nagging feeling that she should be doing more, and had decided to once again take up her old work. People all across Remnant needed help, and she wanted to be there for them when nobody else was.

Her travels had taken her to Anima, where she was currently staying in a small village on the outskirts of Mistral. They had been dealing with the aftermath of a Grimm attack when she'd arrived, and Fiona had decided to stay around for a week or so whilst the wounded recovered. Her patients tended to for the moment however, the healer now had some time to relax. She had made her way to the village's tavern, where she had warmly greeted the tavernkeeper and ordered a simple cup of tea.

During her time here, she had counted herself lucky to get to know most of the village's residents. However, the man seated not too far away was a face she didn't recognise - a Faunus too, it seemed - if the ears atop his head were any indication. Curiosity piqued, the woman swivels on her stool to face him, offering a kind and welcoming smile.

@allbains liked this post for a starter!

"Ah, Corsac, Fennec, thank you for coming," Ghira said, looking up from his position at his desk, greeting them as though he had asked for this meeting. "Please, have a seat," he added, getting to his feet to properly greet his guests. He moved across the room, bringing a tray back over to the desk and setting it down in front of the brothers. There was a variety of drink options on the tray: water, tea, coffee, plus a few different options for flavouring water, if that was what guests preferred, and Ghira was nothing if not hospitable.

"I understand you have some news for me?" he asked once they had made themselves comfortable. There was a lot going on with the White Fang, and Ghira knew that he needed to be on top of everything that was happening, so he could react accordingly.

"People believe what they want to believe."

Tell me about it.

She was too exhausted to voice the cynicism, but Blake knew it had to show on her face when she glanced at him. It had been a long two days. They’d gotten the militia settled in the dorms for now, awaiting the next ship back to Menagerie, and the atmosphere on campus since then had been nearly manic. Sienna Khan had not stopped arguing with Dad since the minute she finished excoriating those of the White Fang who’d participated in the attack on Haven; Ruby, Weiss, and Yang had filled her in on what they’d been doing here that night, and Blake’s head still swam with those revelations.

“People believe what seems right to them,” she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. A sigh. “That’s not always the same thing.”

God knew she didn’t want to believe what her teammates had told her. An ancient witch who commanded the grimm? Divine relics that could bring about the end of the world if she got her hands on them? Magic?

It sounded awful. Terrifying. Blake would be happy not to believe a word of it; but unfortunately for her, she’d seen the image of Salem with her own eyes.

…Although Corsac probably meant the news coverage of the foiled attack, which had veered to gossipy with impressive speed. Blake jerked her head to indicate the radio playing softly from the vacant teacher’s desk and said, “You can turn it off if it’s bothering you. I don’t mind.”