You have no idea how much I LOVE Jewel Lizard, I swear to gods.
RWBY Ship Headcannons #76: Jewel Lizard
Ilia has a very specific assortment of colour to her scales whenever she sees Emerald. First they turn bright pink, then a mix of ice blue and purple, then they settle on the same shade of green as Em's hair.
Em likes to always be holding Ilia is some shape or form. Her favourite kind of cuddling is around the waist, and she casually links their pinkie fingers whenever they're remotely close.
Em calls her 'Beau' and Ilia calls her 'Gem'.
If Emerald's reading, Ilia treats her like an audiobook. It's nice to lay in her lap and just listen. If she wants her to pause, she'll boop her nose in a move very much learned from Nora, which Em finds endlessly sweet. More than anything, Ilia finds Em's voice relaxing. She's fallen asleep like that before.
They give so many cheek kisses.
Thanks for the suggestion! Remember ask box is OPEN for Ship Summaries, Headcannon Requests and Ship Trials!
Alright folks, jewel lizard (Emerald x Ilia) Modern AU, they're both thieves, first meeting is them litterally pickpocketing each other at the same time
Hey RWBY fans, specifically my fellow Emerald simps, we’ve been wondering who is a good ship for her, but like... it you think about it it’s so obvious...
Two characters, both who switched sides in the heat of the moment, joining our heroes...
Prompts: Motion Sickness, Asleep on the Couch, Fever Dream, Ginger Ale and Crackers, and Missing Out
Word Count: 2,804
Series: Part 6 in the Reclamation AU.
Summary: When Emerald catches an unexpected illness, Ilia's there for her through the peaks and valleys.
If you'd rather read chapter by chapter on AO3, click here.
~~
Emerald sat on the side of the wooden dock, swishing her feet underwater. As strange as the events that led her to Menagerie were, she was grateful for them. How could she not be? This was the closest thing to freedom she’d had in years.
The beach was full today, and part of her had been itching to see it up close. Gazing at it from the locksmith’s window didn’t cut it anymore. After all, it had been so long since she’d been surrounded by people genuinely enjoying themselves, even if she didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now.
There were still a few days left before the weekend, but the idea of coming back with Ilia put a smile on Emerald’s face. They’d put together a list of things she hadn’t tried yet, and water volleyball was next.
Far too soon, her scroll gave off a gentle alarm. It was time to head back.
Emerald got up with a sigh and dusted off her shorts. After drying her feet on a towel, she slipped on a pair of sandals. Noticing a mosquito on her thigh, she swatted it and made her way to the locksmith.
The shop was small, cozy, and (most importantly) air conditioned. The steady sounds of employees tinkering with various orders was music to Emerald’s ears. So as to not interrupt their flow, she returned cordial nods only when one was offered.
As an apprentice, she didn’t have her own desk—it was more like a table with a standard chair. On it, there sat a lead jewelry box with a busted lock. The owner said one of his kids had lost the key and they hadn’t been able to get into it since. After all his attempts to break the lock, the only signs of that wasted effort were some claw marks around the inset.
Now, where had she left that lockpick? No, Emerald reminded herself with a roll of her eyes, the official name was “bypass tool.”
When Emerald whipped her head around to look for it, the motion made her brain spin. She sat down—much more heavily than intended—and held her breath, waiting for the strange sensation to pass. Her next movements were careful, testing this unexpected and unwelcome limit.
Slowly but surely, Emerald pushed through the discomfort long enough to unlock the box. Along the wall behind her were rows of keys yet to be shaped. She lifted one off the hook and placed it in the key cutting machine. Her fingers flew over the keypad, punching in the code for the shape she needed the key to be. The rumbling of the machine filled her mind, a welcome distraction from the unpleasantness swimming around her skull.
The only things left to do were dismantle and install a new lock. She'd planned to get it all done now, but honestly, Emerald wasn't feeling up to it anymore. Apprehension set in just thinking about the steps involved.
As much as she didn't want to fall behind, she wasn't about to risk losing pieces and breaking such fine tools. She’d just have to make up for it later.
Emerald stored the box and its new key in her cubby, then signed out for the day. The upside to not quite being an employee was the versatility of her hours. Thankfully, no one gave her any looks for leaving early.
Passing through town, the heavy aromas of different food stands greeted her nose. What would normally bring a grin to her face only turned her stomach. That pissed her off more than anything. Skipping meals wasn’t something she’d done in years, and she looked forward to never having to do it again.
Finally back at Ilia’s place, Emerald leaned against the door to catch her breath before unlocking it.
“Ilia?” Emerald stepped inside and didn’t bother flipping on the light.
In lieu of an answer, the house creaked as it settled. Alone for the time being, Emerald kicked off her shoes, made her way to the living room, and flopped onto the couch. Her body made its dissatisfaction known with a slow churning in her gut.
Emerald groaned. Whatever this was had better clear itself up after a nap.
A yawn wrenched its way out of Emerald. She wiped her eyes, feeling no closer to restfulness, and blinked.
Red.
Too much red.
The bed underneath her was hard as bone. Emerald pressed her ear to it. With a bit of focus, she made out the heavy, sluggish pulse of a heartbeat. She was back on Monstra, and the realization stole her breath.
Across the tiny room, the sound of parting sinew indicated a visitor. Emerald scrambled to her feet. Purely on instinct, she drew Thief’s Respite, aim trained on the doorway.
A single amber eye stared back at her from the darkness. Cinder stepped into the room—slowly, but not cautiously. Her unexpected presence made Emerald’s hair stand on end.
Cinder’s brows drew together, irritation evident in the crease between them. “Are you done running from me?”
Emerald’s grip on her pistols faltered, unable to decide between lowering or aiming. “I’m not-. I’m not running.”
“Then why aren’t you by my side, where you swore you would always be?”
“Because you don’t want me there.”
Cinder took another step forward. Emerald took one back.
The tightness around Cinder’s eye smoothed out. The expression of failure that took its place was a familiar one. Cinder didn’t spare a glance toward Thief’s Respite as she walked between them. She reached out in a way she never has—in a way Emerald always hoped she would—and pulled Emerald into a hug. “How could you think that?”
Emerald sucked in a shallow gasp. For every acknowledgment of a job well done, there were four times as many reprimands. Emerald chased those rare moments and followed each order without question, no matter how distasteful, only to be met with anger if she dared ask for anything in return. Even if what she asked for was honesty.
At the same time, Cinder had held up her end of the deal. She taught Emerald new, more vicious ways to survive and never let her go hungry—not even as a punishment.
But that’s not the only way love can exist. Emerald knows that now.
Tears rolled down Emerald’s cheeks. Her arms burned as she lowered both weapons to return the hug. “You want me around to do your dirty work, but not to help you.”
The claws on Cinder’s Shadow Hand dug into the small of Emerald’s back. A warning to tread lightly.
Emerald braced herself. “I don’t think it. I know it. And I know it ‘cause it’s in the way you treat me. In the way you let Salem treat you.”
The claws tore into Emerald, a level of pain she'd inflicted on others but not experienced herself. Before she could let out a scream, she felt herself get yanked up through several layers of sleep.
“-ld? Emerald, get up.”
Emerald opened her eyes to see Ilia clutching her shoulders. Head swimming, she let out a confused grunt as Ilia’s grip relaxed.
Ilia wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, buried her face in Emerald's neck. “Are you okay? What the fuck was that?”
“Huh?” was all Emerald could manage. Her mind struggled to catch up to the questions. She slid a hand around to feel her back. No injury to report, nothing for Ilia to worry about. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”
Ilia pulled back far enough to fix Emerald with a stern look. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it sound like it’s nothing.” Ilia’s skin turned navy blue. “I had the same kinda dreams when I was working through…stuff with the White Fang. More like nightmares, I should say.”
Emerald’s eyes narrowed cautiously. “Wait. How do you know what kind of dream it was?”
Ilia tapped her temple. “You sent it to me soon as I walked in the room.”
Emerald’s heart sank. Something between guilt and embarrassment welled up in her chest. “I am so sorry.”
“I know you didn’t mean to. I mean, that much is obvious.” Ilia shook her head. “But really. How are you?”
“Fine” is off the table, since Ilia had caught onto Emerald’s evasiveness. Emerald dropped her head back onto the couch cushion, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ve had a shitty day and it just got worse. I think I’m sick.”
“Sick with what?” The concern in Ilia’s voice tugged at something deep within Emerald. She reached out, the back of her hand pushing up Emerald’s bangs to check her temperature.
“Hell if I know. A mosquito bit me earlier and it all went downhill from there.”
Ilia hummed, climbing off of Emerald. “I’m gonna make a call. Holler if you need anything.”
“Mmkay.” Emerald turned on her side, arms wrapped around her stomach.
Ilia stepped into the kitchen and unlocked her scroll. When her thumb navigated to the contact list, she tapped on Yang’s name. The photo Ilia had taken of Yang—the sunset behind Yang outclassed by her even brighter smile—filled the top half of the screen as the call started.
She paced the room, anxiety revealing itself in the stiffness of her jaw. Since non-Faunus rarely visited Menagerie, their reactions to spending time on the island uncovered another difference in their biologies. Mainly, that the Faunus who lived here had built up a resistance to whatever sickness the mosquitos carried in this region. The humans could not say the same.
“Sup, Ilia.”
“Hey. Remember the first time you came to see us and got sick?”
Yang pulled a face at the memory. “Yeah, unfortunately.”
“I think Em came down with the same thing. What helped you when you had it?”
Yang scratched her temple with her thumb. “Uhh. Blake tucked me in and let me sweat it out. I didn’t have much of an appetite, so she fed me some crackers and ginger ale when I was awake.”
“Did any of that help with the nightmares?”
“No, they didn’t.” Yang’s eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to the screen. “It only worked on physical stuff, so I was shit outta luck on that front.”
Ilia frowned, but nodded. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”
“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. Lemme know if you have any more questions, ‘kay?”
“Got it.”
Emerald hung up and strode further into the kitchen. She took a pack of saltines out of a cabinet and a can of ginger ale from the fridge.
Ilia lifted Emerald’s shoulders up so she could sit down and place the girl’s head in her lap.
Emerald settled in, wriggling into the comfiest position. “Man. I can live inside a flying whale, but one mosquito is too much for me. Sure. Whatever.”
Ilia blinked. “You lived in a whale?”
“Yeah, it was a whole thing.” Emerald waved the thought away.
A bit of the nightmare came back to Ilia with some clarity. “Huh. So that’s why the floor had a heartbeat.” She held a saltine up to Emerald’s lips and watched as the girl nibbled on it. “I won't make you talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” Emerald sighed. “It’s the least I can do, since I made you see it in the first place. What do you wanna know?”
A burning question leapt from Ilia's mouth. “Who was that woman?”
A pause. “Cinder.”
Ilia's eyes widened as she tipped the soda can up to Emerald’s mouth. “That was Cinder? She's sure changed a lot.”
The last time she'd seen Cinder, the woman had both eyes, human arms, and a vibrant sense of fashion.
“Yeah. She has.” Emerald tilted the can from side to side, the ginger ale sloshing around the inside. “But she wasn't always like that.”
“Was she nicer?”
“No,” Emerald scoffed. “Gods, no. I never thought she was nice. I thought she was kind. The difference is bigger than most people think. A nice person would step over me on the street. A kind one would help me.”
Ilia turned the words over in her mind, surprised at how quickly they aligned with her own understanding. She cupped Emerald’s cheek, the flush beneath the surface warmer than usual. “Do you feel like you owe her for that?”
“Well, you don’t,” Ilia reassured. “I used to think that way about Adam. Not everyone who lifts you out of a bad place does it ‘cause they're a good person. The best time to recruit soldiers is when they’re desperate for change.”
Ilia ran her other hand along the small of Emerald’s back, fingertips trailing where the claw marks would be. “What could you owe anyone who'd do that to you?”
Emerald laid an arm across her face and groaned. “Alright, already. I get it.” Her voice dropped to a mumble. “How’d you get out of it?”
“Honestly? It was hard, but I let the right people take a chance on me.” Ilia balanced an elbow on her knee and rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “Blake stayed with me. Ghira let me fix what was broken. I yelled at some ghosts in my dreams. No one rushed me, and that was what I needed.”
Emerald took a long swig of soda, setting the empty can on a coaster. She turned onto her other side and readjusted her head on Ilia’s lap. “If you say so.”
“Hey, you asked,” Ilia said with a laugh. “It’s weird as hell, but it’s what happened.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Ilia rubbed her thumb across Emerald's forearm, relaxing her with each stroke.
The potency of the dreams seemed to wane with time—externally, at least. Ilia could no longer fully tell what went on in them. Sometimes, she got glimpses of fire and awoke with goosebumps. Other nights, Emerald seized up in her arms, breaths short and shallow. Ilia simply pulled her close, whispered calmly into her shoulderblades until they both fell asleep again.
A part of Emerald wanted to resist those words, but their consistency took root under her defenses. They became something she clung to during her bouts with Cinder.
Even in a realm of her mind’s making, a stalemate was the best outcome. Cinder conceded no ground, admitted no fault, switched between charm and terror as she saw fit.
Emerald had always found it easier to admire when it wasn’t directed at her. She allowed herself to hope that one day, she wouldn't be on the defensive.
Over the next few days, Emerald’s appetite returned little by little. As long as she didn’t move too fast, she could stomach most of her regular foods. But by the time the weekend came around, she was still under the weather.
Beyond the back patio, palm trees swayed under the force of a nice breeze. Emerald turned her palm over, letting the sunlight wash over it. So much for their beach day.
The creaking of the screen door caught her ear, and she deflated further.
“I’m sorry this is taking so long.” Emerald rested her cheek on the side table. “I hate that we missed our beach day together. I know you were looking forward to it, too.”
“Oh, please. You make it sound like you’re a burden. It’s not like you overslept; you’re sick. The beach will still be there when you feel better.” Ilia sat cross-legged on the lawn chair beside Emerald's. She placed two colorful drinks on the table. “For now, I've brought it to us.”
Emerald looked up to see Ilia's thousand-watt smile and huffed a chuckle in response. She didn’t see much point in acting like the gesture wasn't touching. She pushed herself up slowly and grabbed the chilled glass.
Red, orange, and yellow crushed ice bled into each other, the effect similar to a sunset. Emerald took a sip and hummed as the cool sweetness hit her tongue. She let out a more urgent sound as an idea came to her.
“Mind if I try something?”
Ilia nodded, a curious glint in her eye.
Emerald recalled the beach from earlier, projecting its image into their minds. She recreated the glittering ocean, the white sand, and threw in the sound of waves crashing. Putting in some visitors was too much work; just as well, since it made it easier to pretend this was a private beach just for them.
The glass nearly slipped out of Ilia’s hand, but she tightened her grip at the last second. “Oh, Emerald. This is amazing.”
It wasn’t quite the weekend getaway they’d hoped for, but Emerald knew she’d treasure this time all the same.
