And Home, It Feels So Very Far Away [Can I Make A New One Amongst The Ashes?] [Deaged Oz AU]
Written for day seven of the @remnants-of-rwby-events Vytal Festival.
Still having a hell of a lot of fun! Poor Tip, he really doesn't think he deserves to be loved. :(
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Plain Text:
Vale was always so beautiful during the spring. Tip had always loved that the most, the fresh air, the feeling watching new life flourish, existing life grow. His students were always at their best during this time, too. There was so much energy, so much potential in every one of them. Oh, but he missed Beacon so much at times, even more now than ever. Atlas was so cold at times, and he wasn’t talking about the weather. The people, the politics… he sighed. It wasn’t likely that he’d ever truly be comfortable here, for all that he’d been assured so many times now that this kingdom was technically his home. That it always had been.
Could he even consider himself as having a home, now? Beacon was all but destroyed, Vale was in disarray and he wasn’t even there. Couldn’t be there. Would they even welcome his eleven-year-old self, though? They hadn’t been happy when he first showed up, so disappointed in the fact that he was small and sickly. That he limped and had vision issues… that he was everything Ozymandias wasn’t.
Those issues were still there, for all that his aura helped. He didn’t yet have the stamina he had as an adult, he couldn’t even hide the symptoms as he could back then. He was more emotional now than he had been later, too, though that might have more to do with the fact that he almost felt safe, here in Atlas. It was strange, he had been welcomed so lovingly into the family he couldn’t even remember, offered so much. He didn’t deserve it, not really… how could he? They’d been so happy to have their missing member back, but though he looked more or less as he must have done when he was first snatched, he couldn’t be that child anymore. Too much had happened between then and now, and he was terrified that soon enough, they would all see it.
He wasn’t certain how he would deal with the eventual rejection, the hatred that he’d been expecting to have already received. The others had despised him for weeks, back in Mantle… how could his family love him? Surely he didn’t deserve it, he was putting them all in danger through his existence.
Oh, he knew that a lot of this was the nightmares speaking. The horrific images he saw sometimes, when he closed his eyes. Old images of those previous incarnations had loved, tortured and broken by Salem and her people. The same images, but bearing the faces of his family, his friends. Qrow, though he’d always been well represented in those sorts of dreams. At least Qrow could probably look after himself, even if he’d had to learn second hand about just what he’d gone through by Tyrian’s hands. He’d come so close to losing him, and he might never even have known exactly what had happened. He shuddered, thinking about that. It would have been Summer all over again. And just like Summer, he would have been blamed by the others almost as much as he’d always blamed himself.
How much of this was nerves about today? Willow had told him that they needed to visit the lawyer’s office, that there were things they needed to go through now Jacques was dead. That didn’t make any sense, though. His late, entirely unlamented brother-in-law had assumed that Tip was long dead. There should be nothing for him to sort out, unless Willow needed the moral support. But in that case, wouldn’t it be better just to take her children, or at least Winter? He suspected the others would be there, since they were Jacques’ children as much as they were hers, but still… why would they need to include him? Ah well, he’d probably find out.
He dressed quickly, grimacing at the inch or so of gap between the ends of his sleeves and his wrists. Things were starting to fit less well than they had in Mistral, but he wasn’t sure if he could justify new clothing right now. There were surely more important things than his growing pains? Though the idea of not being quite as small anymore certainly had its allure. He missed being able to be intimidating through height and presence alone. He could still flare his aura if he had to, but gone were the days most people saw hm as anything other than the child he currently appeared to be. Even his students sometimes seemed to forget that he wasn’t actually a little boy. Hell, even James had seemed oddly helpful since he’d arrived here, it an annoying and slightly patronising way. He doubted his friend meant to do it, but it was still galling after so long looking after himself.
Willow was waiting downstairs, along with Winter, Weiss and Whitley as he’d expected. That at least made sense, though he tried to ignore Winter’s raised eyebrow, tucking his hands behind his back in the vain hope that none of them would notice that he was growing out of the combat uniform he’d bought in Mistral. They were more or less his only clothing outside the set he’d worn to Jacques’ ball, but he couldn’t really afford a replacement. While he’d had a small stipend while he’d been head of Beacon, those funds would have been quickly reclaimed by the council, after all, they didn’t owe him money anymore. Not that most of what he was pretty sure was meant to be his salary had ever actually been paid out. He was all but certain that most of that had already been being rerouted, though he doubted very much if Glynda would stand for the same treatment in his place.
He really hoped they were okay, but it wasn’t like they’d welcome him either, like this. He was too small, too vulnerable. He shivered, thinking about it. Even with his aura, this less developed body presented a set of problems that he couldn’t fully work around. He was still sickly, got the same shakes he had as an adult with far less ability to hide them. His eyes were still very sensitive to any light, but he thought they might actually be slightly better at present? That was an odd thought, that his eyes could have gotten worse as he stayed at Beacon. He doubted the sunnier weather really did much to help that, though the way the snow reflected the light in Atlas wasn’t really much better.
How much damage had it truly caused, his time in Vale? Things ached differently now than they had when he was older, but though they weren’t the same, he thought that they ached less. He hadn’t really noticed just how much things hurt, sometimes. He was aware that Qrow and Glynda likely had, but… as said, it was far easier to hide things when he was an adult. He never wanted any of them to worry about him, he really wasn’t worth the attention.
“Oh, little uncle. Why didn’t you say anything? We’re going to have to go shopping, you need fitting clothing!” Winter sounded exasperated, even as Tip felt his cheeks heating up in mortification. He knew that this would happen, Winter had never really managed to rein in her protective instincts around him. He suspected a lot of that was due to Jacques, too, but it wasn’t like he could resurrect the man in order to kill him again even more slowly. He really wanted to at times, though. He’d always hated him before, but now? Knowing what he knew of the mess he’d made of his family… he could comfortably list him on the same page as Salem, of people he actually hated. Even the death that Jacques had been given wasn’t enough to make up for things.
“It’s not really that bad? They still sort of fit…” He trailed off as Weiss turned to glare at him too. If both of his nieces thought that he needed new clothing, he probably couldn’t really fight them on it. It didn’t help that there was a steely look in Willow’s eyes, too. He winced, looking away.
Winter’s eyes softened slightly at just how cute he looked, not that she was going to point that out to him any time soon. It was bad enough that others did, without her joining in on it. Her uncle knew how others viewed him by now, it wasn’t really a good idea to try to rub it in.
As they entered the lawyer’s office, Tip couldn’t help but marvel at just how open it was. The whole building was, actually. Even though it wasn’t really that old, it was obvious that the architecture took after a much older style, some of the brickwork looking rather like it had been recycled from other, older constructions. He was almost certain that one of his previous incarnations had seem a specific carving before, there had been a sudden rush of shock, though it had quickly faded away again. That had been happening more and more recently as the merge slowly recombined his soul with what he was going to term Ozma’s. It wasn’t really Ozma anymore, but there was no way to explain it in any other way. At least he’d been more or less shielded by Ozymandias for a while?
The man behind the desk nodded at Willow, smiling at Winter, Weiss and Whitley before turning to Tip and freezing. Tip squirmed slightly at his gaze, he was really getting quite tired of people he didn’t remember reacting like that, though he’d expected a lawyer to at least be better at hiding it.
“The rumours are true then?” the man breathed, eyes still on Tip, as though transfixed. “You really are Winter?” There was a strange hope in his voice that Tip didn’t really understand. Why would this man be so desperate to find him? What was going on, why hadn’t he asked more questions before they got here? Whatever this was, it was at least unlikely to be a trap. He was fairly certain his family wasn’t likely to do that to him.
“I… used to be.” Tip replied, tentatively. From the slight widening of the man’s eyes, he hadn’t been expecting Tip’s Valean accent, either. He wondered what exactly he’d heard, considering that he was very aware there were various rumours about his survival. He blamed James for some of those, but it wasn’t as though he could easily have hidden his connection to his family. Sooner or later, questions would have been asked anyway. He couldn’t regret what he’d done during Robyn’s party, but it had certainly bought his existence to the notice of a lot of people that he really didn’t need.
“Well, welcome back. It’s an honour to remeet you, young Master Schnee. Has your sister told you why you’re here today?”
That was an odd question, if he’d been expected, why was the man so shocked. Was it because he was a child right now? That was certainly a possibility, though surely he would have been warned in advance?
“She has not. Might I ask why you’re so shocked to see me?” Tip was very curious now, none of this really made very much sense.
“Ah. Well, we were warned that you’d be here, however… there have been imposters in the past. None of them were ever backed by your family, but… the possibility existed.” He sounded deeply apologetic. “Would you mind if we took a geneprint, just to confirm your identity? I recognise that you appear to be Winter Schnee, but… it’s better to be sure.”
“Of course not! That makes sense, though… there have been impersonators? Why?” The fact that anyone had pretended to be him was even more confusing. From the things he’d learned over the few months he’d been in Atlas, he hadn’t even necessarily been expected to survive into adulthood at all. He silently thanked his aura, again, for ensuring that he had… but, there had been those who had pretended to be him? Why, what was the point? As the oldest child, surely Willow had been the only heir?
Or… had she? Was it possible that the father he only really remembered in flashes had left something for him after all? Willow had told him that he’d never given up on the idea that he was still alive, but the thought was more than a bit uncomfortable. He held out a finger for the machine, blinking as a tiny needle took his blood then the screen flashed green. He was hoping that was a good sign, as opposed to it just reading the colour of his aura.
The man relaxed, all the tension seemingly draining out of him at once as he stared at the screen.
“Right, then. Well, I’m Celadon Abbott, by the way. I expect you don’t remember me, but I knew you when you were younger. The first time, that is. I’m glad the scan showed a positive result, I would have hated to end this on a more sour note. To answer just why there have been impersonators over the years, were you aware that your father split the SDC down the middle? Half of it has been in trust for you for the last two decades.”
Tip went white, shock and horror combining in his gut. He really didn’t have time to have anything to do with the Schnee Dust Company, he had too many other duties, too many responsibilities for that. He had half been expecting something was off by the way nobody would tell him what the meeting was about, but… he turned a betrayed gaze at the others, noting rather sourly that Winter was working very hard to keep a straight face.
They’d obviously known about this all along. Maybe he could pass it to Weiss? Though that was less than likely right now, he was certain that the lawyer would claim he was far too young to make that decision.
He sighed, as half of the argument he’d had for not bothering to replace his clothing evaporated, though… what would those in Vale make of this? Would they try to claim it, claiming that he belonged to them? He couldn’t help but voice the question, blinking as Mr Abbott’s eyes hardened to flecks of grey ice.
“What your father left for you is What your father left for you is yours, young Winter. Nobody else has any claim on it, though I’d welcome them to try. It might be rather interesting…” There was a threat to his tone, yet Tip couldn’t help but be slightly comforted by it.
He’d been so used to nobody caring enough to protect him, was this what it was like to truly have a home? Could he build one here, even knowing that Salem was likely to try to destroy it, in time?
Did he truly deserve to be happy, for once? And what was he supposed to do with that sort of money, anyway?