FIAT JUSTITIA

RWBY multi ✶ by farran

[etruatcaelum]

NOT YOUR SACRIFICE.

RWBY multi ✶ by farran

INFO ✶ MUSES ✶ MEMES

ft. canons & original characters. currently under construction. affiliated with @evernighted.

[etruatcaelum]

hi. leaving tumblr due to the reblog chain nonsense. i'll drop a line if i set up shop somewhere else but otherwise blog remains up for archival purposes only. 🫡

[fatedmuses]

...In Qrow's defense, he'd always considered them pretty inept as spies. Least as teenagers. It wasn't so much spying as... pretending to be a student and learning. And he had been good at learning, at least.

Likes to think he still is. Or tries to be, anyway.

"I hate when you're smarter than me," he grumbles, rewetting his rag to scrub at the wall harder. He's taller than her, can reach some of the things she has to levitate to get, but not all of it. Cleaning the wall as a bird, he's liable to just shit on it. Which granted would actually solve the problem, although presumably not to Winter's satisfaction.

"I also can't believe Raven told you that." It's not like his sister is an open book. Far from it, in fact. About as closed as a book can get, really. "What, because you're both maidens she gives you backstory?"

Although he's sure Raven didn't describe it as Winter had. His sister is much more blunt and too the point. It's actually wild to think that of the two of them, Winter is better with people. Maybe.

They're both pretty terrible with people, actually.

[etruatcaelum]

I'm smarter than a lot of people.

No force on Remnant could have compelled her to say that out loud; even though it is true, at least in the kind of intelligence found in shrewd observation of the world, the ways people move through it, the base cunning necessary to learn the rules and leverage them.

Her father's daughter.

Brushing that thought aside, she says dryly, "It wasn't exactly in a touching heart-to-heart, if that's any consolation."

Pause.

"She's been a maiden for over a decade, and she faced Salem in Vale and lived to tell about it. The… magic is… intuitive, but I don't–" another pause; then, darkly, she mutters, "I know I only made it out of that portal alive because Cinder—got bored, or… so. I asked your sister to train me after she arrived."

Winter scoffs under her breath.

"Taunting in the middle of a spar is one of her favorite pedagogical techniques," she drawls. "'You trained to make puffed up little socialites feel safer; my brother and me went to Beacon to learn how to kill huntresses like you,' is how she phrased it."

[etruatcaelum]

[ @evernighted | watts // salem ]

"let me put it this way. have you heard of zartosht and azar ištrimuł? morons."

That scornful boast catches her by surprise; Salem inhales, aspirates a dram of tea, and stifles an explosion of coughing by sheer of willpower. Her chest burns. She takes another tiny drink of tea to disguise this hairline fracture in her composure.

"Is that so?" she murmurs; rasping, slightly.

Nonexistent though her experience in this area is, she is certain that this—job interview, if one could call it that—is not unfolding in any sort of standard fashion. For one, the man sitting before her is (Neath had informed her, matter-of-factly) dead by any official metric, having blown himself to pieces in spectacular fashion not long ago. Neath had, in his obscure and inimitable way, ascertained his survival and brought the esteemed, disgraced, less-deceased-than-he-seemed Dr. Watts to her attention.

For two, locating the doctor and arranging this meeting proved difficult enough that she'd already determined to give him the job if he can be persuaded to take it. Less an interview, she supposes, than recruitment.

But hearing not one but two of Ozma's many names denigrated as morons before she's even reached the point of describing what she intends or, indeed, explaining much more than that she found herself in need of an astute, capable coder with no love for Atlas…

Well, it's—unexpected. Bemusing.

"I knew both," she says quietly, setting her teacup down. "Rhetoricians without equal, both of them, and of course they were uncommonly erudite… but also men of limited imagination and a crippling dependence on notions of a higher moral authority." Salem smiles, a little sharp. "Fine words lacking in real substance. Not, I see, an affliction you share, hm?"

[etruatcaelum]

i cut my drafts and inbox in half we are so back.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE PRINCESS BRIDE *  assorted dialogue from the 1987 classic film, adjust as necessary

hello. my name is [name]. you killed my father. prepare to die.

give us the gate key.

as you wish.

who are you? are we enemies?

i've always been a quick healer.

good night. good work. sleep well. i'll most likely kill you in the morning.

get back, witch.

i'll try to stay awake.

it's not that bad.

you are wonderful.

i admit it, you are better than i am.

why are you smiling?

i've seen worse.

i told you i would always come for you. why didn't you wait for me?

death cannot stop true love. all it can do is delay it for a while.

i will never doubt again.

i could kill you now.

maybe you could come over and read it again to me tomorrow.

life is pain. anyone who says differently is selling someone.

you have a great gift for rhyme.

anybody want a peanut?

who are you?

get used to disappointment.

i don't suppose you could speed things up?

if you're in such a hurry, you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find something useful to do.

i do not think you would accept my help, since i am only waiting around to kill you.

that does put a damper on our relationship.

i promise i will not kill you until you reach the top.

that's very comforting, but i'm afraid you'll just have to wait.

i hate waiting.

isn't there any way you trust me?

throw me the rope.

we'll never survive. we may as well die here.

we have already succeeded.

i don't think they exist.

you've done nothing but study swordplay?

there's not a lot of money in revenge.

i certainly hope you find him someday.

you seem a decent fellow. i hate to kill you.

where is the poison?

i am not a great fool.

you've made your decision then?

you're just stalling now.

you'd like to think that, wouldn't you?

you're trying to trick me into giving away something. it won't work.

i know where the poison is!

then make your choice.

i am no one to be trifled with.

kill me quickly.

i would sooner destroy a stained glass window than an artist like yourself.

you got any money?

are you a rotten liar!

your first story was better.

do you always begin conversations this way?

you mean you wish to surrender to me? very well. i accept.

i don't think i'm quite familiar with that phrase.

drop your sword.

tear his arms off.

we'll never survive.

nonsense. you're only saying that because no one ever has.

he didn't fall? inconcievable!

you keep using that word. i do not think it means what you think it means.

i can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains.

you're that smart?

let me put it this way. have you heard of plato, aristotle, socrates? morons.

why do you wear a mask?

were you burned by acid, or something like that?

i think everyone will be wearing them in the future.

you know, it's very strange.

i have been in the revenge business so long, now that it's over, i don't know what to do with the rest of my life.

you mock my pain.

[fatedmuses]

Ruby nodded seriously, frowning slightly as Penny explained what they would be doing. They were professionals now! They had to look the part.

Even so, Ruby was just excited to be here with her friend, bouncing on her toes right alongside Penny.

"We should check it out then!" Ruby agreed, nodding sagely. After a moment, she leaned in a little closer, speaking softly. "Is there really no way for us to also repair Mantle's walls?"

It was awful, that Mantle was bearing the load for the Amity Arena project. They were already the more vulnerable population, being preyed on by Jacques Schnee for cheap labor. At least Pietro was down there, helping for free, but...

"I just... feel terrible we can't do more for them but damage control."

[etruatcaelum]

Bright smile dimming, Penny said, "I wish we could do more, too."

She was supposed to be the Protector of Mantle, but it felt like all she ever did was chase after problems that were already happening, and hurting people, and Penny did not think that was the kind of thing a Protector should do. Dad always updated her firewall and patched vulnerabilities he identified in her software before bad actors could exploit them, didn't he? Shouldn't a Protector try to stop problems before anyone got hurt?

Casting a furtive glance around to make sure nobody else was listening, Penny took a deep breath to vent cool air through her internals and then said quietly, "Ruby, there is a part of the General's plan that worries me."

No one was paying much attention to them, but she still felt too exposed in the wide-open briefing room. She clamped her lips together to suppress the noise of a hiccup—that built-in nervous reflex sure was annoying!—and motioned for Ruby to follow her to their transport.

"General Ironwood recalled his troops from Mistral to prepare for the surge of grimm that will come when he tells the world about Salem, right? To protect people in Atlas and Mantle? But he doesn't think repairing Mantle's wall is a matter of urgency, and I do not think I agree."

Penny frowned.

"What do you think?"

[etruatcaelum]

[ @th-meridian | zidane // emerald ]

"a swamp knows all about death and doesn't necessarily define it as a tragedy."

This is not a tragedy. This was not an accident…

"Guess that makes my—former employer a swamp, then," Emerald muttered, half to herself, to chase the echo of Cinder Fall's silken gloating from her mind. She shook her head, parched lips thinning as she glanced up at the hulking faunus. "But not you. I saw you fighting that blindworm back there."

She jerked her chin at the little outpost behind them, half of it smashed to kindling by the monstrous grimm, now being picked over by the survivors.

"Name's Emerald," she added, hoping for his.

[etruatcaelum]

[ @ein-schnee-sturm here | winter // raven ]

She crouched on the wall separating the training grounds from the ragged hodge-lodge of Vacuo itself, forearms braced on her knees, hands dangling, and met Winter's blank stare with an impassive, unblinking gaze.

"If by 'here' we mean here," Raven said at length, flicking her wrist to indicate the sand-stricken training grounds below, "then I'm here because you falling to pieces is not what we need right now."

Her tone was blunt, clinical—stripped to the bones of any emotion. She braced one hand on the edge of the wall and hopped down, landing lightly with a puff of fine reddish dust, then folded her arms and leaned back against the sun-warmed stone.

"Having all this power makes it more important to sleep and eat, you know," she added conversationally, "not less. It's hungry."

[serabellyms]

She wanted to correct him for calling her Princess, but a grumble and a sharp gaze was the only response he got out of her. Now wasn’t the time to complain about the fact that she had a name and that he refused to call her it. She’d always hated being called ‘princess’; it added a connotation to her heritage that she wasn’t fond of, as if her father was some sort of king rather than the usurper he was. Heiress was acceptable (albeit no longer correct), and she’d tentatively accepted Snow Angel and Snowflake in very specific circumstances.

Weiss did her best to brace herself despite the ties on her wrists and ankles, keeping his movements close in her peripheral while she watched their surroundings. She could hear the buzz of Lancers and could see them floating through holes in the ship, like they were sizing up their prey. She opened her mouth to call out as she felt the cord on her wrists snap, followed by being yanked to the floor by Mercury, a squeal of surprise escaping her as he did so. She watched the stinger of the creature shot over them, and she scrambled to react, one hand shooting upward as she trapped the stinger to the roof with a couple small glyphs. She thought she might’ve felt something hit her elbow, but paid no mind to it; it didn’t hurt, so it probably wasn’t important. It at least trapped the Lancer to be attached to the top of the ship, its jerking motions cleverly resulting in the ship being yanked upwards. It wasn’t much to slow their descent, but every little bit would count at this point.

Once her ankles were free and he hollered, Weiss processed, glancing at him, then nodded, but swiped her hand below them as a glyph held their footing steady. “I need to look at the instrumentation panel,” she replied, nodding at the cockpit. “I need to know our velocity, wind speed, and wind direction to make this work.” Standing, she held on to the wall, peering just barely around the corner. Parts of the console weren’t functional, but thankfully, there was still some manual instrumentation she could read. Good thing Winter had made her study it; she hadn’t thought it would come in useful until today. “Okay,” she added, taking a deep breath before gesturing once more as a line of glyphs, only wide enough for them to walk single-file, appeared in the direction of the back. “Walk on them; they’ll keep your footing steady.” It was definitely needed, with the way the ship was aggressively jerking.

As she followed behind him, she did the calculations in her head, cursing the fact that she didn’t have Myrtenaster handy, or at the very least a single vial of gravity dust would have made a difference. Once they reached the back, she looked around, not particularly keen on the fact that they were surrounded by crates that could come loose at any time. A few of them already had; there was the one near the back that she’d been in, bumped around and jostled open by the turbulence. Had they grabbed Myrtenaster when they’d taken her, at least? She searched around, looking for the familiar shape, the sheen, anything.

A glint caught her eye, and she saw the rounded edge of the handle, breathing a sigh of relief as she hunkered down, stretching as far as she could to try and reach it. “Come on,” she murmured to herself, and as the ship jostled once more it moved enough that she could grasp it, breathing a sigh of relief. Turning the barrel, she grimaced at the amount of gravity Dust left in it, which wasn’t a lot. It’d just have to do.

“Okay, I’m going to go over this fast, so listen up. I have to focus on keeping this glyph,” she pointed to the one below their feet anchoring them to the floor, “still active while I use more around the ship to slow us. I need you to keep those crates from hitting either of us. Kick them, catch them, throw them out the cargo door, doesn’t matter.” After that, she could use a hard-light barrier to hopefully keep the front half of the whip from crushing them on impact. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to bail if that was the case.

Turning back toward the front, she took a breath, steadied her stance, focused, and a small, purple-black glyph appeared in front of her fingers, then projected outward to form a line in front of the ship. As the ship hit each one, it lurched forward, then back as each glyph snapped, as if the glyph itself had pushed back against it. Each impact shook the ship, and Weiss just had to trust that had any of the crates come loose, Mercury would deal with them. She counted, calculated, mind whirling a mile a minute before the sound of crashing trees could be heard.

[etruatcaelum]

This sucks ass.

His jaw throbbed where she'd elbowed him in the face. Walking on those glyphs while the freighter shook and yawed around them made his legs torque around the implanted sockets in his thighs. It chafed even worse than the first couple weeks he'd had them, before he'd figured out the damn things didn't fit him right and took a hammer to the cups with Cinder's help; he could feel his skin mashed and rubbed raw, the biting pressure that meant his stumps were starting to swell—

But he gritted his teeth and let his mind roll under the discomfort. If Schnee needed to see what she was doing, he couldn't exactly stand in front of her to swat crates out of the way.

Mercury looked up, squinting. The roof of the freighter's hold was slatted with heavy-duty rods, which served as attachment points for the vertical straps securing the cargo.

Don't think. No time. Just do-!

He took one step back to get clear of the glyph sealing his feet to the floor, crouched and sprang as the freighter jolted again—stretched—his hands locked around one of those bars just as the recoil of Schnee's first brake wrenched a whole stack of crates free and sent them banging around the hold.

"Fuck–!"

Heave, swing, twist—Mercury lashed out with both legs, grunting as his feet made solid contact with a crate, and put his whole body into shoving it to the side. It bounced off the bulwark and careened out the loading doors instead of smashing Schnee into paste.

Ground rushing up. Trees. He kept swinging and kicked two more crates out of the way, muttering curses under his breath; the back of his neck prickled.

Raw instinct took over. Pull up, tuck the legs—a lancer's harpoon shot beneath him, piercing the air where his thighs had been dangling only a second before and gouging the heel of his left boot with a burst of sparks. Losing track of the tumbling crates, Mercury let out an inarticulate yell, and spun himself around. He kicked out. The gunshot was barely audible over the din of the crashing freighter, but even in the chaos he'd aimed true: the ugly wasplike head exploded, and the rest crumbled—

Snaps and cracks of breaking wood reached his ears. The trees. He let the arc of his wild swing bring him around to see the forest lunging up through the cockpit to skewer them and shouted, "Bail!"

[moved-meridian]

Fortuna sighed. Not everyone believed in fate or destiny. Her options were to either wait for Cinder to open up or do a reading...which she wasn't going to risk. "You may believe what you want. I know what my magic is capable of." She left her tea as it was, beginning to sense that Cinder only wanted to torment her hostess for her own beliefs.

"I've heard stories of what has happened beyond my shores from those who have washed up here like yourself. I'm not completely in the dark, but the world at large doesn't interest me anymore." There was nobody out there who would remember her. "I take comfort in being the protector of those who visit my island." They were her bonds that kept mortality and life in perspective. Made living bearable. "And you are welcome to make a home here until the island releases you. The only law here is to not cause harm to any human or Faunus residents. Otherwise, you're free to do as you please."

[etruatcaelum]

She canted her head, dark hair falling over her eyepatch while she gazed at Fortuna with one unblinking amber eye. If the ancient woman thought Cinder disbelieving, she was badly mistaken. Fate existed, of course it did—this world was bound in the chains and shackles of a destiny forged before Remnant came to be.

But fate did not rule uncontested, and Cinder was both the maiden of choice and protégée to the witch who defied the Brothers. She knew what her magic was capable of, too.

"Well," she said, "it would please me to know more of this curse you placed upon your island. Your powers… Hm. Perhaps I can guess." She hummed. "The future is an untraveled country, wild and infinite in its choices, forever passing step-by-step into the immutable certainty of now… But you…" One pale claw clicked against the rim of her cup. "You can reach forward to reap that knowledge before it's sown… and, I suppose, the act of seeing makes it so."

Her eye half-closed. "Power always comes with a cost," she said softly, "after all."

[moved-meridian]

She had to pause. Not to count the years, but to steady herself. "Two-hundred years." Far too long. "The Empress of Mistral sent me here when I used my magic to predict something for her. The cards wove ill-fortune for her kingdom." Fortuna shook her head. "Then I made another prediction for myself, which placed another spell of fate upon the island."

Backstory done, she refocused on Cinder. "Now, no more evading. Tell me what brought you here. What crossroads did you face that my island would draw you in?"

[etruatcaelum]

Two centuries; a pittance, then, if this woman was as old as Salem or even older. Predictions, fate, destiny…

Her lips had already curled into a small, closed smile before Fortuna tried again to demand answers she ought to have realized Cinder wasn't about to offer.

"Do you know," she asked lazily, silken-voiced, "what's happened in the last two hundred years beyond this… fate-cursed little island of yours?" She sipped her tea, eyes glittering. That's all you'll ever do—but destiny had lost its grip on her ever, since she met Salem. "Nothing 'drew me in.'"

[fatedmuses]

Summer could tell, the moment he vanished into his memories of the past. Of what had happened between him and Salem before. She waited patiently, nodding slightly as he picked up where he had left off after a moment.

It must be hard, to have so many lifetimes under your belt. To be constantly reincarnated, and for what? To fight against your mortal enemy? Had they ever been friends, once? She didn't expect Ozpin to answer that, even if she did ask.

"...but why not?" She couldn't help the question that slipped from her mouth. Why couldn't they flush her out? Unite humanity against her? It would be difficult, of course, but... not impossible. Wasn't that what they had been training huntsmen and huntresses for, all this time?

"We fight from the shadows with her, taking only meager victories. If we brought her into the light..." She already knew what Ozpin's answer would be. But she still had to ask.

[etruatcaelum]

She would tell everyone her story, and enough would believe her to doom us all.

Oz slipped a wry, sad smile over his face with the ease of long practice. They'd done little else but tell lies and misleading half-truths ever since the God of Light sent them back to life; what was one more lifetime shrouded in deception, after all this time?

"You know the usual answer," he said. "We mustn't cause a panic; panic will bring the grimm in droves… and that is true. But even the risk of mass hysteria is less than the danger of causing Salem herself to panic, as I believe she would if we ever exposed her."

He leans forward a little, expression grave.

"This is not something I share with many people, but right now, Summer, we face an adversary who is holding back, using only a fraction of her power, not out of overconfidence but because she believes, just as you do, that if humanity stood united against her, she could be defeated forever.

"Salem is an ancient grimm, quite as intelligent as we are, with legions of lesser grimm at her command, able to wield magic even mightier than all four maidens combined. The last time she used her power to its fullest extent, she caused the Eruption of 1312; the Great Collapse which followed very nearly wiped out all civilization in Anima."

Oz closed their eyes, haunted.

If I hadn't hunted her down...

"Now imagine," Ozpin said quietly, "what she would do if we brought her into the light now, and turned this secret war of ours into a desperate last stand—not for humanity, but for her. I do believe mankind would triumph in the end, but if we sacrificed hundreds of thousands of innocent lives to destroy her, could we truly account that a victory? Sometimes the cost is too great."

Our world would be so much safer if only Salem understood that.

"So we fight in the shadows," he said grimly, "and allow her the protection and advantage that entails, for now. I have spent lifetimes searching for a way to bind her powers—" a lie. "—and until some means to do so are discovered, we must make containment and prevention our goal."

He smiled tightly, humorlessly. "We mustn't cause panic."

[moved-aubade]

"Regret is like the tide. It comes and goes." Her deeper hopes and fears of the person she was before didn't need to be shared with Cinder. Not yet. "There are people I miss, but I believe I have done so much good by remaining here."

There were people on her island who had escaped miserable circumstances and chose to stay until their final days. Others who were shipwrecked and needed a safe harbor to rebuild. "And one never finds themselves bored if they can connect with the people here."

[etruatcaelum]

Cinder tilted her head, expression neutral, and said, "Hm."

The sea does not regret the tide. Salem had told her that once, so absently Cinder had wondered if the witch had even been aware of saying it out loud. No elaboration had followed, of course, but the words had lingered in the back of Cinder's mind.

But this woman does feel regret, and holds the supposed good she's done with immortal life as a talisman against it. Cinder hums again.

One never finds oneself bored if one can connect with the people here...

"How long," she asks innocently, "have you lived on this island?"

[fatedmuses]

Ain't that the fucking truth.

Qrow knows what it's like, to feel unworthy of the trust and love others put in you. To feel like no matter what you do, you'll fuck it up somehow. Disappoint them. Make them wonder what they ever saw in you. Sometimes it's worse, when they're dead. They can't tell you if you're doing good or not. You have to imagine what they'd say.

That's worse, than someone just telling you you're a disappointment.

Her words pull him back to himself, out of a potential spiral, and he's grateful for it. Although the subject matter is somewhat less... pleasant. At least it's something he can talk about.

"It was..." he pauses, searching for the words. "Strange. One minute I was just me, the next I could transform into a crow at will." He smiles ruefully. "Oz said he had no idea we would turn into our namesakes but I mean... come on, right? Why else would he pick us?"

Because of Summer, a voice whispers in the back of his head, but he shoves it away.

"I always assumed that was why he never offered Tai the same. Figured he'd turn into a lion or something."

[etruatcaelum]

"Well…"

She takes several steps back to gaze critically at the wall. Enough of the graffiti has been scoured away for what remains to be illegible, but Winter has never believed in leaving a job half-done. (Good enough for government work ought to be an expression of high praise; that it isn't is, in her view, an indictment of governmental failure.)

Pursing her lips, she conjures more water to rinse her rag, then dips it into the bucket of suds again and floats upward to tackle the loops of spray paint above her head from a better angle.

"…Once he deemed you trustworthy, you and Raven were the obvious choice to recruit as spies," she says idly. "I assume Ozpin knew of your background by then, if he wasn't aware from the start. Your sister told me you two were sent to Beacon to—learn how to defend your people from huntsmen."

That's a far more delicate way of putting it than what Raven had used, of course, and a note of wry amusement creeps into her tone as Winter imagines the scathing glance she would be getting if his sister were here.

"Not just how to fight on their level, but also how the institution functions, the tactics and strategies huntsmen are trained to use," she continues clinically, "in order to better predict, outmaneuver, and eliminate hostile huntsmen."

She arches a brow, glancing down at him. Had he really never thought of this?

"You came to Beacon as spies, Qrow," she says dryly. "I'd wager that played some role in his choice to recruit you two to spy for him."

[moved-nocturne]

Clark frowned. A simple fight would be a lot easier to solve than all of this. Politics and idols made rifts between people. "Then let's get them a little further from the protest. Maybe a block out?" A block away kept any of them from mingling while still being heard. "And I can see about having them turn down the volume." He knew it probably wouldn't be all that easy. Polite requests to irrational, angry people often went unheard.

"I think it's a good idea anyway." He checked Vine. The Atlesian operative seemed to have a calm head about him. There was a chance he might be willing to listen to Clark's requests and suggestions. "Volume just loud enough for the attendees to hear if they stay at a respectful level and enough distance to let the protesters loose some steam peacefully."

[etruatcaelum]

I don't think that will work.

He understood the logic, of course, and even agreed in the abstract. Greater distance would act as a buffer, and Vine had no desire to arrest anyone tonight, or see anyone hurt. But…

"I fear the protesters may take that as a silencing," he said ruefully. "They do have the right to be here—and an unfortunate history of their rights being trampled." He glanced at the column of signs and resolute faces, sighing. Most of them were fauni. Humans who cared enough to do more than shrug and look away uncomfortably when the popular, charismatic leader of the Dust Workers Union brushed off the particular burdens felt by fauni mine workers were few and far between. "We can ask, but I won't force them to leave if they prefer to remain where Fifestone's supporters can see them."

Saying so, he turned, angling himself toward the protest's organizers, and nodded to invite the other man to walk with him. "That said, a bystander with a calm voice of reason can do wonders to de-escalate a situation like this. More, sometimes, than when the calm voice is wearing a uniform." He made a slight gesture at himself, wry. "If you'd like to stay and help keep things peaceful, I would welcome it."

[fatedmuses]

There are so many what ifs to what happened to his nieces that Qrow isn't sure how he's managed it. There's hope but also despair. If they are alive, and Rae wouldn't lie to him about that, despite everything else, than they can only hope they find their way home. Out of whatever place they might have found themselves in.

But in the meantime, Remnant keeps moving forward, and he has to focus on that. If he doesn't... it would be all to easy to slip into despair again.

"...I didn't know it worked like that," he says softly, glancing at Winter. It isn't like he was ever going to get the Maiden powers, after all. Maybe it doesn't always but... it did explain why all the new maidens seemed... accepting, when he'd arrived. Or at least, less surprised than he would have imagined.

"...Yeah. I know what you mean. She was... a good kid." Ruby had adored her, that much Qrow knew. He hopes if she is alive out there... she's handling everything alright. They'd put so much on her shoulders.

He'd failed her, just as Oz had failed him.

"And I know she picked you because she trusted you. For what that's worth."

[etruatcaelum]

She thinks of Penny smiling, unburdened, carefree, and wonders once again if she deserved that trust. Or if doubting it profanes the memory, somehow. You were my friend—Penny had made that declaration with the surety of natural law.

That, at least, was true. Is true.

"I know," she says quietly, controlling the urge to hunch, and manages a wan smile. "Now it just falls to me to be worthy of it."

Her thoughts fall away from her, through a tumble of frost-feathered glimpses that do not belong to her: an unbroken thread of memories spun and passed from one hand to another? back and back through the timeless white. The maiden stirs, whispers, feeling like the brush of a moth's wing over the back of her neck.

Penny, Fria, Hyemalis, Eva, Helve, Nina, Rikka…

She sighs, and the maiden settles and turns quiescent again.

Not for the first time, she wonders what exactly the maiden is. Ozpin's explanation makes less sense to her every day.

"What was it like," she mutters, not sure how long she's spent lapsed into silence, "when Ozpin gave you shapeshifting?"