These Colours Imperious (Ruby Rose x Reader)

Black, Part Two

She frowns. "Not at all?"

"I don't see a point."

She sighs and looks out the window again. "Don't you?" she mumbles. "Well," she continues, her voice loudening, "it might be better if you get rejected, anyway."

"Some friend you are."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. You and I both know that Heurodis didn't want you to fight."

"Heurodis is dead," you spit, nobody understands that more acutely than you, "and the opinions of the dead don't even have the worth of the stone their tombstones are carved from."

She glares in a very unsympathetic way.

You feign a smile. "That was a joke."

She huffs, blowing a strand of pink hair from her face, then pouts and says, "Not even a little bit funny. Plus, you're a creep."

You lean back and watch the world outside the window, whizzing past at an amazing speed. She doesn't understand you, she doesn't understand what you need. She can coast by on the privilege afforded by her name—your name means nothing to anyone but yourself. "Listen, I have to get into Beacon, Fio. I have to." Everything depends on this; the rest of your life depends on this. You can't fail here, rejected by a paper-pushing admissions officer when you're meant to be a warrior.

"Fine," she mutters. "I understand."

You both leave it at that, a peaceful silence settling over you both. Still, you've been feeling an ominous, invasive presence this entire trip. There's only three people in this carriage—only one if you don't count yourself and Fiolxhilde.

Your eyes flick over to the seats across the middle aisle from you and Fio. There's a woman sat there, dressed in a white cropped shirt and a black vest. Her hair is dark and descends her back in smooth-surfaced waves, while her eyes are a striking shade of yellow. The pupils at their centre are intently set on the pages of a book in her hands. You let your own eyes stare at her a moment too long. The slight tensing of her fair-skinned face makes it apparent she notices you. There's a strangely large bow on her head. You flick back to Fio and say, "That woman across from us hasn't turned a page in five minutes now, and yet she hasn't looked away from them either." You tent your fingers, easily deducing that, "She's eavesdropping on our conversation."

Both you and Fio turn your head in sync, spookily staring at your unwanted third party. The bow-wearing woman frowns, flushes a bit, then looks away, snapping her book shut.

Fio chides her by saying, "I'm surprised you even heard us over the sound of the wheels. Here's some advice, however: Stay in your lane." The other woman remains looking away, and you can't tell if she heard you or not. That being said, Fio makes a point. How did she manage to listen in on your conversation when the sound of the wheels rumbling over the rails is so loud?

Curiously, you whisper something to Fio, "Hey, that freak can't be allowed to do as she pleases. Take the cap off your water bottle and give it to me."

She raises an eyebrow at the cruelty of your words, then does as you ask, but only when you mouth the words just watch what happens to her. You pick up the bottle, the slightest crinkling sound coming from it, then stand as carefully as you can, your feet barely shuffling against the carpeted floor. The woman with the bow tenses, only just noticeably. You take a step towards her, crossing across the aisle, then raise the water bottle. What happens next is exactly as you predicted.

The woman, in one tigrine move, snaps her fingers around your wrist, turning to glower at you. Her pupils seem sharper than before, almost like slits. She did it all in barely under a second, quicker than you've ever seen before.