Dust to Dusk

So, a bargain had been struck.

In exchange for information — how to leave the Manor unseen, how to get to Mantle just as undetected, the contact information for someone Jacques “knew”, and more — the youngest Schnee sibling had asked Weiss for total and unrestricted access to things the middle child had no use for (mainly any of their dresses without stupidly revealing necklines, and their cosmetics). Whitley had even tossed in a suit or three, seeming oddly inclined to ‘sweeten the deal’, as it were. The half-blind Hunter couldn’t help thinking that the accord benefited Whitley far more, but done was done.

Weiss was here, in a suit sans jacket that had belonged to their younger sibling an hour or so ago, and it felt like the world was tipping on its axis. The oddest thing about the whole interaction with Whitley, had been the unexpected embrace the two had shared, standing in the opening of the library passage… but Weiss couldn’t handle more than one world-altering event at a time. They could deal with it… Eventually. Being who and what they were, the shorter Faunus spoke flatly, although the flapping of their hands probably (hopefully?) softened the blankness a bit.

They had set down their suitcase at some point — which contained the bare essentials, dust, and everything needed to care for Myrtenaster — in order to facilitate said stimming with their hands. “…You’re a shark, too.” Another compulsive teeth lick, this time exposing the jagged, serrated points. “I was always told we were hunted to extinction…” Far too lucrative a commodity to protect — hunted for eyes, and teeth, and scales, and fins, and blood. The kind of Faunus whose people floated in red waters, bodies sold in parts. Frowning and rocking side-to-side just a little, another stim to accompany their flapping hands, it also came with the ever-present awkwardness that accompanied them — defined them, some would say — on land.

Lanky and wiry, bony and far-too-thin, even despite standing at 4’10” without heels. A third lick of their teeth, and Weiss half sighed, the deep breath fluttering the gills at either side of their throat; completely uncovered to flex in the open air for the first time in at least ten years. “…I probably shouldn’t be surprised Jacques systematically lied to me for my entire life,” the smaller shark muttered. Although, even Beacon’s library had said about the same… Not the point. “What do you want from me?” Blunt, certainly, but after the past few months… Weiss would probably spend a long while just relearning how to breathe.

The joys of being retraumatized.

The building Urbia selected for her shop stood apart in both design and placement, perched along the fringes of the Dust refineries. Its steel-plated exterior bore the scars of falling ash and prolonged Dust exposure, all fashioned into the likeness of a great shark. Along its flanks, gill-like vents glowed a smoldering red, exhaling steady plumes of steam as Fire Dust kept the interior warm. The entrance yawned wide like an open maw, offering a glimpse of the brick-lined space within. And its proprietress stood leaning against the lower jaw, flanked by mismatched Faunus twins of aquatic origin.

It was a trap, everyone knew it, but feigning ignorance was something else she had learned quickly; something everyone ought to learn quickly, when dealing with Father… Something she was beginning to realize her older siblings couldn’t do, no matter how hard they had both tried; although through no fault of their own.

That had been an almost intolerably awkward interaction with Mother, a woman Whitley barely knew… Between incoherently intoxicated and pleasantly drunk, Willow had explained (her understanding of) autism to her youngest daughter, which had prompted the new Heiress to do her own research into the matter; if anyone asked, she could have passed it off as “know thy enemy”.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was what Father had planned, what she could do about it, and to untangle how she felt about it. The joys of walking a knife’s edge, every day life in Schnee Manor… (Her tail twitched, but not where her ears were. Weiss said she was born with lop ears, but Whitley didn’t know what they felt like. After two disasters, Father wasn’t taking any chances, and had them removed.)

…Again, that wasn’t the point.

"It is what businessmen call 'a bargaining chip'. Take notes, Whitley." He shut down his desktop and stood. "You use it in negotiations, especially ones in which you suspect that your partner may not hold through." After Winter and Weiss's betrayals, he suspected Whitley of doing something equally horrid. "You remain the optimal..." He had to swallow a lump in his throat. "...heiress, and you have free reign."

It was something he had been utterly unwilling to do for Winter or Weiss. But if his third and last child was going about everything backwards, then so be it. If he lost Whitley, then there would be no heir. The Schnee legacy would fall to ruin and the company divvied up between outsiders. "So you keep quiet about our family's private matters and act as the stable face of the Schnees, and then you can act however you please."

The place of closed-mouth smiles, walls higher than Weiss was tall, never letting anyone close enough to see what he really was — a predator from the coldest reaches of Remnant — a Faunus beaten into the shape of a Human by Jacques’ hatred... Weiss may have tacitly “agreed” to the charity concert, but he had been floating in the all-too-familiar haze of too little sleep and even less food.

The Hunter-in-training barely managed to quickly shower and be somewhat presentable without passing out, when Jacques summoned him that day. Weiss’ remembered the threat of violence but little else, from that day. Not even the tiny flame of being properly gendered — “You'll always have a home at Atlas Academy, Mx Schnee.” — had broken through the fog.

As for now? Weeks of being misgendered, belittled and dismissed at every turn, forced to constantly mask his autism because it would “ruin the Company’s Image” if both he and Winter were so obviously broken and inept — not that Jacques had called her Winter, or used Weiss’ correct/preferred pronouns. Overstimulated and dysphoric, Weiss could barely breathe.

The static in his head was getting worse.

It seemed his chosen heiress was going to be difficult throughout this entire process. Didn't she recognize how influential this could be for the Schnee brand? It'd let their shareholders know that the family was still in good standing after the Fall of Beacon, which would then raise money to fund the remaining forces at Vale in their efforts to rebuild and defend their decrepit kingdom.

"It's a win-lose situation, Weiss." He turned away from his own mirror, the crisp, white tie straightened and fixed with a white gold bar with studs of blue Dust embedded into the metal. "You suffer in the short-term to gain in the long-term."

Jacques was attempting to keep his composure amid this whining. Why couldn't she see that this benefitted them both? "You just have to dress and act properly for an evening, then once the doors are closed and our guests are gone, you can change and be whatever it is you think you want to be." His eyes, a shade darker than the true icy blue Schnee hue, narrowed on his daughter. "Then Professor Goodwitch gets funds to keep protecting your academy, Valean refugees get funding to relocate to new kingdoms, and our shareholders are happy."

... a cheek kiss? huh. didn't know she was valean.

whatever, it's not like it's the first time he's done this. he leans down, coming closer to his crush friend. his family back in vale had always expected little air kisses — kissy sounds thankfully optional — on the sides of their cheeks, so why did it feel different here? the faster i do this, the faster i get to sleep. their cheeks brush against one another. in this brief moment, all he hears is the beating of his heart and the tickle of her breath on his ear. it's tempting to stop, to savor it for a while, but he chooses instead to not risk it, leaning back up and looking down at neo.

Neo patiently waited for Jaune to pay his rent. She fully expected him to quarrel or get flustered, or maybe even have some fun with it. She was left thoroughly disappointed. The kiss was chaste, barely lasting for more than two breaths. She made a disgruntled pout when he parted from her, then waved him off.

For now. Rent might go up tomorrow depending how you treat me.