The pale light of a flickering lantern cast a distorted shadow across the walls of the dimly lit room. A young woman — her fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders like molten strands of copper — stood hunched over a rickety wooden table, her amber eyes reflecting the wavering glow as she meticulously prepared her gear for the journey that awaited her. The room itself bore the scars of time, its walls marred by the wear and tear of years gone by. Faded paint peeled away like old scars, and the ceiling sagged as if it could collapse at any moment — the air was heavy with a musty scent, a mixture of dampness and neglect that clung to every corner.
Her hands moved with practiced precision, each gesture speaking of familiarity born from countless repetitions. With calloused fingers, she carefully inspected the sword propped against the table's edge; the blade was etched with nicks and notches, remnants of past battles that had taken their toll on both the weapon and its wielder. A frayed strap dangled from the hilt — a stark reminder of the repairs she couldn't afford to make. Beside it lay a dented shield, its surface marred by scratches and signs of countless battles fought and won; the emblem emblazoned upon it, once vivid and proud, now faded like a memory slipping into the abyss.
She worked in silence, a somber determination etched onto her features. Her fingertips, roughened by the activities of her daily struggles, gently traced the lines of the sword's edge, a touch that spoke of both familiarity and reverence. With a deep breath, she retrieved a cloth from a nearby stool, and began to meticulously wipe down the blade. Her movements were deliberate and focused, as if each stroke held a piece of her heart and soul.
As she worked, a soft creaking sound permeated the stillness, and the door to the room swung open with a rusty groan; a tall figure stood in the doorway, his presence casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room like an omen — his voice, tinged with a blend of concern and resignation, cut through the air, breaking the cocoon of silence that had enveloped the young woman.
"Do you really have to go so soon?" He asked, his tone tinged with a mix of weariness and longing. "It hasn't even been a week..."
"I know, love," she paused her work, her gaze lifting from the sword to meet his eyes. The lantern's light danced across the contours of his face, revealing the lines etched by time and hardship. "But we both know that there's no other choice..." A faint smile made its way onto her lips, her voice carrying with it a weight that spoke of the countless struggles they had faced together. "After all, lien doesn't exactly grow on trees..."
"I know, Heather..." A small sigh escaped from his lips, a mixture of understanding and frustration evident in his features — the words that followed were tinged with an undercurrent of resignation. "But I just... I can't help but worry about you out there..."
"You know I can take care of myself, love..." Her gaze returned to the sword, her smile faltering for a moment as she set the cloth aside. "I've been through worse... and I never failed to come back, no?" She spoke softly, her words a reassurance laced with the ache of countless farewells. "There's really no need to worry... it's a Class-D freelance job, so it won't be that dangerous; besides, it's not like I'll be alone for the mission."
"You've always been strong..." Her husband stepped further into the room, the lantern's light casting a warm glow upon his tired features. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the small of her back, his eyes bore a mix of pride and concern — a silent acknowledgment of the strength that radiated from her person. "It's just... times are tough, and I wish I could do more to support you."
A bittersweet smile played at the corners of her lips as her gaze locked with his in a tender moment that spoke volumes without the need for words; her hand found its way to his own, her fingers intertwining with his as if to anchor herself to the familiarity that he offered — the warmth of her touch a balm to the worries etched upon his face.
"You've done more than enough," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody that resonated with the echoes of their shared history. "You've supported me through thick and thin, and I'll always be grateful for that."
The room seemed to hold its breath as their eyes remained locked, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air — a symphony of love, resilience, and the silent understanding that bound them together. But the moment was fleeting, a mere heartbeat suspended in time, for the world outside their haven of faded walls and flickering lanterns was one that demanded action and sacrifice.
"Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it." Breaking the connection, she turned back to her gear, a determined gleam in her amber eyes as her fingers resumed their dance across the worn hilt of her sword. "How's the business going, by the way? If you don't mind me asking, that is..."
"It's... it's not great, to be honest..." He admitted, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and reluctance. "There have been... complications."
"Complications?" Heather raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she looked up from her gear, her left hand reaching for the dust container on the side. "What kind of complications?"
"You know how things are around here..." He paused, his eyes shifting away from her for a moment, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features before he let out a weary sigh. "Bad enough that we had to deal with the recent inflation in dust prices, but now the local gang seems to think that we owe them something more — 'protection' money, they call it." His expression was a mixture of bitterness and resignation as he slowly shook his head, his fingers clenching into a fist. "We've tried to negotiate with them, but... well, they're not exactly the type to take 'no' for an answer. Me and the rest of the guys have done our best to manage, though it'll still cut into our profits... not to mention the entire Faunus debacle, so... well..."
"Do you think... maybe I could go and ask a few of my fr-"
"No, Heather," he interrupted her with his gentle voice, his eyes meeting hers once more — his gaze held a mixture of concern and determination. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't want you getting involved in this mess. It's dangerous enough as it is, and I don't think your friend would be enough, anyway..." A somber silence settled between them, the weight of their unspoken worries hanging in the air before her husband spoke once more, his voice softer this time. "We'll figure something out, just like we always do. Besides, you know they got the city's council on their payroll, so there's really nothing we could do..."
Heather's fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, a mixture of frustration and helplessness welling within her as she processed his words. There was no denying that the world they lived in was a harsh and unforgiving one, yet even their kingdom — the one place that should've been a haven of hope — was not immune to the taint of corruption that had now seeped into its very foundations. It was... a bitter pill, to swallow — that the kingdom of Mistral had become a place where power and lien held sway over the lives of countless souls.
Then again, when has it ever been any different?
In a world where Grimm prowled the lands and darkness was a constant threat, sacrifices and compromises were often the currency of survival... and she knew this all too well. A lifetime of struggle and hardship had ingrained within her the bitter realization that the world was not a place of fairy tales and happy endings; it was a world of survival, where the strong thrived and the weak were left to fend for themselves. She knew that better than anyone, yet even so...
Her thoughts were interrupted as a soft rustling sound reached her ears, drawing her attention to the doorway once more. A small figure stood there, silhouetted by the lantern's glow — her daughter, barely eight years old, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she held a worn teddy bear close to her chest, its one button eye gleaming in the lantern light. Her voice was a sleepy murmur, her words laced with both innocence and longing.
"Mommy... are you leaving again?" The words were soft, almost a whisper, yet they carried with them a weight that tugged at her heartstrings. She turned to face her baby girl — her amber eyes meeting the girl's tired gaze — and in that moment, the weight of responsibility felt heavier than ever before.
The young woman crossed the room in a few strides, her heart aching as she knelt down to be eye-level with her daughter. With a gentle smile, she reached out to brush a strand of hair away from the girl's face, her touch a soothing balm against the doubts that lingered in those innocent eyes.
"I have to, sweetheart," she replied, her voice gentle yet resolute. "You know I have to..."
"But... you'll come back, right?" The girl's voice wavered, a hint of vulnerability seeping through her sleepy facade. "You always do, but I miss you when you're gone..."
Her heart clenched at the words, the ache of leaving her daughter a pang that resonated deeply within her chest. She knew the toll her absence had taken on the young girl, the nights she spent wondering when her mother would return, the days filled with yearning for a presence that always seemed to slip away. Heather reached out to cup the girl's cheek — her touch tender and reassuring as she offered a warm smile — determined to ease the girl's worries.
"I promise, sweety," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken promises... and with those words, she pulled her daughter into a gentle embrace, the warmth of their connection a solace against the uncertainties that lay ahead. "I'll always come back to you. No matter what, I'll always find my way home." Heather held her daughter close, their arms wrapped tightly around each other — her daughter's favorite toy sandwiched between their bodies. Eventually, the girl's eyelids drooped once more — the pull of sleep tugging at her consciousness — and with a tender smile, Heather gently pulled away, tucking a strand of hair behind the girl's ear before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep, baby girl," she murmured, her voice a gentle lullaby that carried with it the echoes of a mother's unwavering love. "I'll come back as soon as I can, and then we can spend some time together, okay? Just you and me..."
The girl nodded sleepily, her grip on the teddy bear relaxing as her eyes fluttered shut, the lantern's flickering light casting soft shadows across her peaceful features. Heather merely watched for a moment longer, allowing herself to soak in the tender moment before she proceeded to pick up her daughter and rose to her feet — her steps carrying her towards the door where her husband stood, a silent witness to the scene that had unfolded.
"I'll be back in a week, at most..." She spoke to him, her tone a mixture of reassurance and determination as she held their daughter close to her chest. "And who knows, if everything goes well, maybe we'll be able to buy her a better present for her birthday."
"Be safe out there, Heather," his gaze held a mixture of worry and love as he reached out to gently stroke the girl's cheek, his touch a testament to the shared bond that existed between them — a bond that was both fragile and unbreakable. "And come back to us in one piece. Promise me..."
A wistful smile curved her lips as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tender kiss that spoke of longing, of hope, and of the bond that they shared in the storms that is their lives.
"Always..." She whispered against his lips, her voice a vow that carried with it the weight of her promises, her convictions, and the fierce determination that burned within her; Heather lowered their daughter into his waiting arms — the warmth of his embrace a cocoon that enveloped the girl in love and protection — a small, sleepy sigh escaped the child's lips, a sound that felt like a gentle benediction. "Take care of her, love..."
"I will..." he replied, his voice soft yet resolute as he pressed a kiss to their daughter's forehead, his fingers brushing against the child's cheek as if to imprint his love upon her very skin. "Don't worry, Heather; we'll be here, waiting for you to come back..."
---
The sky tram — suspended on metal tracks that spanned like a delicate web across the yawning chasm — swayed gently as it glided along its path, the dim light of the predawn hour painting the landscape outside with muted shades of indigo and charcoal. She gazed out of the large glass windows, her breath misting the cold surface as she took in the sight; the city of Mistral sprawled before her, a labyrinth of life nestled deep within the embrace of forested mountain peaks. It was a place where contrasts reigned supreme; the lower elevations housed the downtrodden and the destitute — their lives a battle against the harsh reality of poverty — while the higher realms cradled the opulent estates of the elite, a haven of privilege and power.
Buildings of varying heights rose from numerous platforms embedded into the cliffs' face, while terraces and elaborate bridges served as a connection between the different levels, their designs ranging from intricate lattice work to sturdy stone arches adorned with enigmatic symbols that hinted at the city's rich history. Lanterns hanging from eaves and streetlamps illuminated the city's arteries, casting a warm, hazy glow that flickered like distant stars against the encroaching darkness. Pagoda-style roofs adorned with ornate tiles pierced the sky like exotic blossoms, while waterfalls cascaded down the various sections of the mountains, their crystalline waters catching the early morning light and refracting it into a dazzling dance of prismatic colors.
'One day... surely...'
Inside the tram, Heather's fingers tapped against her thigh in a rhythm of anticipation as the cabin hummed softly, its metallic interior vibrating slightly with the tram's movements. The journey was a blend of tranquility and suspense, the quiet murmur of the machinery mixing with the faint whisper of her thoughts; the digital display above the door counted down the remaining distance to her destination, the numbers ticking away with a clinical precision that mirrored the pulse of her heart.
As the sky tram glided to a graceful halt, the automated announcement chimed, its voice carrying a tone of detached efficiency — a stark contrast to the emptiness that stretched beyond its doors. She stepped out onto the desolate platform, her boots clicking softly against the polished stone surface. Her surroundings shifted, the cold air pricking at her face with a sharp bite, while the sound of distant chatter reached her ears.
The airport — a cavernous expanse of wood and glass — yawned before her like an ancient, sleeping behemoth. Its cavernous halls, once bustling with travelers and bustling vendors, now lay empty, their vacant echoes a testament to the uncertainty that had gripped the city. The grandeur of the terminal was undeniable. Its towering ceilings held aloft by intricate lattice work that resembled a series of grand arches, while enormous windows offered panoramic views of the city and its surrounding landscape; a landscape that was as beautiful as it was fraught with danger.
Banners and signs that advertised exotic destinations and luxurious accommodations hung by the wall, their colors muted by the dimmed lighting that bathed the space in a melancholic hue. The polished floors — though pristine — bore the scuffs of countless footsteps, while rows of vacant seats stretched across the waiting area, their upholstery pristine but forlorn.
Her footsteps reverberated through the emptiness as she made her way to the check-in counters, each step a solitary beat against the silence. The booth before her was manned by a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, her fingers dancing over the keyboard of her terminal with a practiced efficiency; a small holographic screen hovered above the counter, displaying the flight schedule with a list of destinations and departure times that seemed to stretch into the unknown.
The woman glanced up at Heather, her gaze a mix of indifference and fatigue as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose; the glow of the holographic display cast shifting reflections across the lenses, obscuring her eyes like a veil of frost. Heather cleared her throat, her voice carrying a note of quiet determination as she took out her scroll and showed it to the woman.
"Heather Shields, C-Rank Huntress," she announced, her words punctuated by the distant hum of machinery and the soft murmur of the announcement that played over the intercom. "I booked a flight to Kazeume... the ship should leaves in about... fifteen minutes?"
"Eleven, actually..." The woman's fingers continued their dance as she nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze returning to the holographic display before her, her voice a monotone that held neither warmth nor malice. "If you would please place your scroll on the scanner, Ma'am..."
Heather nodded, her fingers tightening around the handle of her duffel bag as she followed the woman's instructions; the scanner emitted a soft beep as it recognized her scroll, its screen displaying her name and flight details in glowing letters.
"Everything seems to be in order," the woman said finally, her fingers deftly typing out a few more commands before she looked up at Heather with an almost imperceptible smile; she handed over a small card with a holographic emblem that bore the signature insignia of Tennokai — Mistral's premier airship company — its edges embossed with a faint sheen of bronze. "Please make sure to be onboard at least five minutes before departure. The landing pad for the airship is on the southern side, just follow the signs. Gate four; landing pad C-7. Safe travels, Mrs. Shields."
"Thank you..." She nodded in gratitude, her lips curving into a brief smile as she took the card. "Have a good day."
With a polite nod exchanged, Heather turned and walked away from the booth, her steps carrying her towards the direction indicated by the woman. The announcements continued to play overhead, their robotic voices mixing with the soft hum of machinery and the distant chirpings of the caged birds that perched near the window — a melancholic symphony that underscored the emptiness that pervaded the airport's vast halls; the translucent glass revealed a landscape painted in the early morning hues, the sun's first rays casting long shadows that danced across the streets below.
She weaved through the cavernous space, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her fingers brushing against the smooth metal of the railing as she ascended a broad staircase that led to a higher level. The air was crisp and cool, the scent of damp earth and distant forest mingling with the sterile aroma of the airport as she stepped out onto a walkway that stretched along the terminal's exterior. Here, the morning light painted the world in muted shades of amber and rose, casting an ethereal glow upon the cityscape that lay spread out below — a mosaic of rooftops, tangled alleyways, and serene pockets of nature that existed within the heart of a bustling metropolis.
The sky tram's path meandered into view from her vantage point, its metallic body glinting in the soft light as it traced an elegant curve above the city — the rhythmic clanking of its wheels echoing like a distant melody as it continued its predawn journey; a solitary flock of birds took flight as if in a choreographed ballet, their wings slicing through the air in graceful arcs, carrying with them the promise of freedom and the weight of the sky.
Her scroll chimed softly, and she retrieved it from her pocket, the screen illuminating with a soft glow as she checked the time; the minutes were ticking away — each second a precious drop in the ocean of moments that comprised her life. With a determined exhale, she adjusted the strap of her duffel bag and resumed her journey, the rhythmic sound of her footsteps echoing in time with the soft hum of the city below.
---
The Bullhead's interior was dimly lit, the soft glow of overhead lights casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance with every tremor. Heather sat by the window, her fingers lightly grazing the cold glass as she peered out into the murky gray expanse; raindrops trailed down the window's surface like silent tears, distorting her view of the world beyond — the forest below was a sea of emerald darkness, its once vibrant colors muted by the rain's touch. They felt like a lingering reminder of the recent tragedy — a baptism of sorrow that bathed the land in its mournful embrace.
'Tch… how fickle.'
Her breath fogged the glass, forming a small circle through which she could gaze out. With a faint, bittersweet smile, she drew a heart with her fingertip — the symbol of love and hope etched against the backdrop of the rain-soaked landscape. Her gaze shifted downward, to the ground below, and her heart clenched as she caught sight of the creatures that moved amidst the trees like phantoms of darkness. The shadows shifted beyond the blurred contours of the rain-smeared window — a series of ominous silhouettes that prowled the forest's edge with predatory intent. Grimm, creatures born of darkness and malice, their forms a grotesque fusion of animal and nightmare. They moved with an eerie grace, their movements a symphony of feral instincts and calculated hunger. Like wraiths, they emerged from the dense underbrush, their eyes gleaming with an unnatural luminescence that cut through the rain's haze — a haunting reminder that danger lurked even in the heart of Mistral's wild expanse.
The Beowolves slinked through the forest with a quiet menace, their claws digging into the damp earth like daggers seeking prey; their fur matted with rainwater, a reflection of the storm that raged within their souls. In the distance, a pair of Nevermores circled the treetops, their wings slicing through the rain-soaked air — their black feathers glinting like obsidian in the dim light; the mournful cry that emanated from their beaks carried a note of desolation, a requiem for the lives lost to their talons.
"You know… if I were to be honest, I did not expect to see you again..." Heather's voice cut through the air, her tone laced with a mixture of wistfulness and resignation; she turned to face the man who occupied the seat across from her — Julian, one of her old teammates, a man whose presence carried the weight of memories and shared history. His raven-black hair was streaked with gray at the temples, his once-bright blue eyes now dulled with the passage of time; a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he met her gaze, a glint of warmth lingering in his tired eyes. "How long has it been? Four years?"
"Four years and six months, Heather... and to be honest, I also didn't think I'd run into you again," Julian admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and nostalgia. "Life has a funny way of bringing people back together, huh?"
A soft chuckle escaped from her lips, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her scroll; memories of their days at Haven Academy flooded her mind — days of camaraderie, of training, and of laughter that echoed through the halls... yet time had a way of changing people, of wearing down the edges of youthful exuberance into the weathered wisdom that now resided within Julian's gaze.
"You know how it is," she replied, her voice a soft murmur that held a hint of sadness. "Life takes unexpected turns, and sometimes, paths cross when you least expect it."
"Mhmm... how are you, by the way?" The rain outside seemed to sigh in response, its quiet patter against the Bullhead's metal hull a somber backdrop to their conversation. She leaned back in her seat, her gaze shifting from the window to Julian's tired features.
"As well as can be expected..." Heather replied with a half-smile, her words carrying a tinge of vulnerability as she contemplated the journey that had led her to this point. "Life's been... challenging, to say the least... not that everything's been all bad, mind you," Her fingers danced along the edge of her scroll, a small, reflective sigh escaping her lips. "But, you know how it is... ups and downs."
"Yeah, I hear you," Julian's gaze held a mixture of understanding and empathy as he nodded, his fingers tapping a quiet rhythm against the armrest of his seat, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. "Times have been tough for all of us... though I'm glad to see that you're still around. Still, I'm surprised to see you taking on a job like this." He chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of nostalgia as he leaned back in his seat, his gaze drifting towards the rain-swept window. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with it, but... you always had a bit of a... hmm... how did Lia say it? An adventurous streak?"
"Lia… she always did have a way with words." Heather replied with a soft chuckle, her voice carrying the faint echo of cherished memories. "And you're right... I guess I did have a knack for finding trouble back then."
"You were always the one to dive headfirst into danger, if I recall correctly," His smile held a mixture of fondness and teasing, his words a reminder of the many times his partner had acted on impulse, her fiery spirit driving her to confront challenges head-on. "Never one to back down from a fight, no matter the odds..."
"Heh... well, I suppose times change, and so do priorities." A wry smile played at the corners of Heather's lips as she regarded him, her fingers tracing the rim of her scroll in a motion that mirrored the storm's rhythm outside; her gaze shifted to the window once more, her thoughts drifting to the chestnut-haired girl she had left behind. "At least we get to work together again, just like old times, no?"
"Ha! Still, none of us ever pegged you for the type to settle down." Julian admitted, his words carrying a hint of nostalgia as he studied her features, as if searching for traces of the person he had known so many years ago. "But I guess we all have to make a choice, eh?"
"You're right," she agreed, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. "How about you? The orphanage's alright?"
"Pretty good, all things considered... though we did receive a few orphans from Argus after that whole incident with the Blood Fang." His tone held a quiet resignation as he continued, his face bearing the lines of concern that came with the responsibility he carried. "No one really wanted them after the incident, and we couldn't just leave them to fend for themselves."
"You and Lia were there in Argus?" The question escaped Heather's lips as a whisper, her voice carrying a mixture of surprise and concern as she met Julian's gaze.
"You weren't?"
"As I've said be-"
"Attention; we will be arriving at the Village of Kazeume in approximately... five minutes." The automated voice interrupted, its tone a measured reminder of their impending destination. Heather's gaze flickered towards the intercom before returning to Julian, her thoughts returning to their conversation. "Please return to your seat and ensure that your belongings are all accounted for."
"... as I've said before," a wry smile formed on Heather's lips, her words deliberate as they formed the sentence. "Times have changed... my priorities have shifted. I've been taking on some easy jobs to make ends meet, but... things are different now, Julian. And... well, I can't afford to be as reckless as I once was. I have responsibilities."
Her gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt as the words hung in the air. The rain outside continued its steady descent — the symphony of its patter a backdrop to their conversation — carrying with it the cadence of memories and the echoes of decisions made.
"Understandable, really..." He replied with a shrug of his shoulders, his words held within it a hint of empathy. "But yeah, going back to the orphanage, we've been doing our best to give these kids a safe place, a home. At least we've received a bit of help from a few generous donors, including a significant donation from a... Princess of the Moon? Or something like that; the details are a bit hazy. All I know is that it's been a godsend, and it's allowed us to keep our doors open."
"... Princess of the Moon?" She couldn't help but feel her eyebrow twitching ever so slightly, a snort of amusement escaping her lips as she regarded the man before her, the corner of her mouth curving into a sardonic smile. "Really, Julian?"
"Yeah, tell me about it..." His chuckle was tinged with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, his fingers absently tapping against the armrest. "But hey, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. We needed the help, and they were kind enough to provide it." He continued with a small grin, his voice carrying a note of sincerity that mingled with the remnants of their laughter. "Then again, I heard the other orphanages also received some generous donations from the same person, so... who knows?"
"Heh, must be one hell of a saint..." Heather's voice carried a trace of bemusement, her gaze turning towards the window once more, her eyes watching as raindrop trails down the glass surface — the faint silhouette of the village drawing ever closer with each passing second. She turned her attention back to Julian, her lips curving into a small, nostalgic smile. "You know, I really have to come and visit one of these days. See how much has changed since then."
"You should... Ayla and Chrome have been asking about you all these years." Julian's smile held a warmth that reflected the light of memories, his words carrying an undertone of a quiet hope. "Pretty sure the rest of the kids would be thrilled to see you as well... and it's been a while since the three of us caught up."
"... yeah, my bad. I promise I'll make the trip."
The minutes seemed to pass like the melancholic notes of a fading melody, each one a fleeting breath against the canvas of time. The rain outside had subsided to a soft drizzle, its rhythm transforming from a tumultuous downpour to a gentle whisper, the taps against the metal hull now a soothing cadence that mirrored the slowing beat of her heart. Her fingers continued to trace aimless patterns on the rim of her scroll as her thoughts swirled with the memories of the past; the vessel glided on, the drone of the engines thrummed through the air, its vibration penetrating the silence that had settled within the cabin.
As the airship began to descend, the mist laden landscape of Kazeume started to reveal itself in greater detail; verdant hills rose like sleeping giants, their contours softened by the rain's caress, while dense canopies of ancient trees sprawled across the land like a mosaic of emerald. Streams snaked through the terrain, their currents flowing with a sense of purpose as if tracing the lifeblood of the land itself. The rain drenched foliage glistened like precious gems, droplets clinging to leaves and petals in a testament to the storm's passage. Stone paved pathways wound through gardens bursting with blooming flowers and vibrant greenery — their colors rendered even more vivid by the recent rain — while lanterns hung from the street corners, their soft glow casting warm pools of light against the cobblestone.
Her gaze was drawn to the buildings that punctuated the sea of green, their thatched roofs and wooden walls exuding an air of rustic charm that seemed to transcend time itself. It was a world untouched by the rapid pace of technological advancement that marked the Kingdom's capital — a quaint little village nestled within the embrace of nature's beauty.
'... government sanctioned, indeed.'
The landing itself was a smooth affair, the airship touching down with a gentle jolt that rippled through the cabin. She rose from her seat, her fingers brushing against the window's cold surface one last time before she turned to retrieve her duffel bag. Julian did the same, his movements a mirror of hers as they both proceeded to disembark from the vessel. Stepping into the narrow corridor, they joined the stream of passengers making their way towards the exit; the cool air greeted them as the doors slid open, carrying with it the earthy scent of damp soil and rain-washed greenery. Their footsteps echoed upon the metal gangway, their boots making soft splashes on the wet ground as they finally made their way down the steps of the airship, the sound merging with the distant murmur of voices and the soft rustling of leaves that marked the village's awakening. A gentle mist hung in the air, casting a hazy veil over their surroundings and lending an air of otherworldly tranquility to the place.
"The rain's letting up a bit, at least." Julian mused, his tone carrying a hint of relief as he adjusted the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder, his gaze scanning the village square ahead. "Makes the walk a bit more bearable."
"It's about time," the warmth of her breath mingled with the cool air as she spoke, a small smile gracing her lips as she looked around at the idyllic scene that stretched before them. "Weather can be a bit unpredictable this time of the year."
The puddles on the cobblestone path reflected the sky like fractured mirrors, creating miniature vistas of the heavens amidst the village's quaint architecture. The rhythmic tap of their footsteps carried them through the square, their boots creating concentric ripples in the puddles — each one an echo of their presence, an imprint upon the canvas of this tranquil world. Market vendors were already starting to set back up, their wares a colorful array of fresh produce, handmade crafts, and an assortment of goods that mirrored the spirit of the village; a trickle of villagers moved about, their figures wrapped in cloaks and rain-resistant attire as they went about their daily routines.
"So..." Heather's voice took on a contemplative tone, her eyes narrowing slightly as she surveyed the quaint buildings that lined the square — shops, taverns, and even a quaint little bakery, all adorned with hand-painted signs, their awnings fluttering gently in the breeze. "Hoverbikes or bullhead?"
"Eh, lien is a bit tight right now, hoverbikes."
"The place isn't that far, and the weather's clearing up, so it should be a decent ride." Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she nodded, her fingers brushing against the wet strands of her hair. "It's been a while since I rode one, but hoverbikes it is, then..."
As they walked, the path led them past the square's edge and towards the village's eastern gate; the walls — worn and moss-covered — were punctuated by occasional archways, their stone surfaces testifying to the passage of time — a silent guardian that had stood watch over the village ever since its founding. Above the entrance, a simple sign bore the village's name, its weathered letters a reminder of the generations that had called this place home; the gate stood slightly ajar, the wooden doors seemingly inviting them to step beyond the boundaries and into the embrace of the wider world that lay beyond.
Her gaze shifted towards a small garage that stood adjacent to the walls. Its entrance was flanked by a pair of weather-worn signs that advertised the services provided. The structure itself was simple — a single-story building of wood and stone, its walls adorned with faded posters and the faint scent of dust and metal; the garage doors were rolled open, revealing a space filled with a handful of sleek, two-wheeled vehicles — hoverbikes of various makes and models, each one gleaming with a subdued luster as if eager to be chosen for the journey ahead. The soft hum of machinery filled the air, a steady thrum that resonated with the pulse of anticipation; a mechanic worked diligently in one corner, tools clinking as they meticulously tended to a vehicle's inner workings.
"Names and destinations?" The man sitting behind a small station at the entrance of the garage asked, his voice a mixture of professionalism and casual weariness. His gaze flickered over Heather and Julian as they approached, eyes taking in their attire and demeanor in a single sweeping glance.
"Heather Shields and Julian Steelthrone," she replied, her voice carrying a note of gratitude as she glanced at the selection of hoverbikes before turning her attention back to the man. "We're headed for Aegean Watchtower; you got a couple of bikes available for us?"
"Sure do," his voice held a trace of nonchalance as he spoke, his head jerking towards the line of hoverbikes, his hand making a vague gesture towards the vehicles in question. "Standard R-04 MT models. Just need your scroll for identification."
"Here you go..." Julian handed his scroll to the man, its screen presenting the requested information as the mechanic entered it into the system, his fingers dancing over the touchpad with practiced efficiency. The terminal emitted a soft beep of confirmation, and Julian's scroll was returned to him with a small card.
"Mhmm... as usual, the bikes are fully fueled and equipped with navigation modules," the mechanic explained, his voice carrying a hint of professionalism as he handed the card to Julian. "Just follow the marked route, and you'll reach the place in about two hours. The path might be a bit muddy from the rain, so take it slow if you need to... and don't forget to show the cards to the guards stationed at the watchtower once you arrive."
"Thanks." Heather's voice held a note of appreciation as she accepted her card from the man, her steps taking her closer to the line of hoverbikes.
"I'll take the green one if you don't mind..." Julian's voice cut through the air, his words carrying a note of quiet assertion as he met her gaze, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Very funny," she replied with a chuckle, her lips curving into a smile; her fingers brushed against the edge of her assigned hoverbike, the overly vibrant paint on its sleek frame causing her expression to waver between reluctant amusement and resigned acceptance. "Guess I have no choice but to settle for the pink one, then..."
"Eh, it's not that bad... you always go on about being a prin-"
"Oh, fuck off, Julian..."
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"-cent developments, the Kingdoms of Atlas and Mistral have been making headlines as reports indicate a concerning trend of expelling their Faunus populations. This controversial decision comes in the wake of a devastating terrorist attack that rocked the city of Argus, resulting in widespread destruction and loss of life. The attack — believed to be orchestrated by a Faunus extremist group — has caused a ripple effect across the continent. Many Faunus, seeking safety and refuge, are now finding solace in the Kingdom of Vale and the island of Menagerie. These regions have seen an influx of Faunus individuals and families, as they seek to escape the rising tensions and discrimination in their former homes. The decision to relocate en masse has sparked debates about the responsibility of the various kingdoms to protect and provide for their citizens, regardless of their ra-"
She stood within the confines of the private room, its tall windows framing a panoramic view of the bay beyond. The atmosphere was laden with a light drizzle, a delicate dance of raindrops gracing the glass surfaces — sound of the ocean's waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the scene. In her hand, she held one of the few creations she had brought into existence through the power of 'Reason'... and with a measured grace, she swung the greatsword smoothly through the air, every motion calculated and deliberate.
"-ted Faunus communities attempt to rebuild their lives and find new homes, questions continue to arise about the complex relationship between humans and Faunus, the role of extremism in shaping public opinion, and the potential for unity or further division among the people of Remnant. Moving on, govern-"
The obsidian blade — dark and polished — gleamed in the dim light of the room, capturing the soft gleam of ambient ray that filtered through the overcast sky. Her fingers — skilled and deft — guided the weapon through intricate patterns, each movement a testament to her mastery over the weapon. The blade's hilt, designed to fit comfortably in its wielder's grip, allowed for precise control over its weight and momentum. The two mini-propulsion devices embedded on one side of the soulium alloy remained dormant, a hidden arsenal of explosive potential awaiting its user's command.
"-tion is unfolding within the borders of the Kingdom of Vacuo, as reports emerge of an unknown sickness gripping the region. The cause of the disease remains shrouded in mystery, as health officials work tirelessly to unravel the origins of this perplexing ailment. Citizens are reporting a range of distressing symptoms, including severe respiratory issues that have left many struggling for breath. However, what sets this disease apart is its unique and troubling impact on those affected; reports suggest that alongside the physical ailments, victims are experiencing vivid and disturbing hallucinations. These hallucinations have left many disoriented and emotionally distressed, exacerbating the already dire situation. Medical experts and researchers are ra-"
Her brows furrowed ever so slightly at the news, and with a flick of her wrist, she brought the weapon to a sudden stop, holding it parallel to her gaze; the obsidian surface now reflected her own image, distorted slightly by the slight curvature of the blade — her eyes, vibrant and alive, met their reflection... and for a brief moment, she saw not just herself, but the culmination of her life and dedication.
'... and look where that brought me.' The young woman shifted her gaze towards the screen embedded into the wall. The news report continued to play, its audio and visuals providing a continuous stream of information — a subtle spark of curiosity ignited within her as she contemplated the ongoing events described in the news. 'Hmm... I suppose it would be better to let them handle it on their own... for now, at least...'
She shook her head to clear the errant thoughts away, a flicker of intent sparked in her twin orbs as she subtly adjusted her grip on the hilt. Her fingers moved instinctively to the hidden trigger, nestled seamlessly within the design of the hilt. A delicate press, and the dormant mechanisms within the blade stirred to life. The obsidian blade underwent a metamorphosis before her very eyes, its dark hue transforming into a deep, velvety blue; it was as if the blade had consumed the very essence of both the ocean and the sky, embodying their colors within its form.
She swung the blade once more, and the air itself seemed to respond — trails of frost formed in the wake of its movement, a testament to the blade's newfound power. A hum — soft yet appreciative — escaped from her lips as she marveled at the weapon's adaptation; the sound harmonized with the pattering rain, a melody of nature interwoven with the artifice of her creation.
'Just need a few more adjustments...'
Minutes passed before she brought the blade to a halt, the trails of frost dissipating into the air... and with a final flourish, the young woman set the transformed weapon down on the table. It joined an array of other weapons — pistols, katanas, gauntlets, and even lances — each one modeled after Schicksal's and AE's own armament, while also bearing the mark of her meticulous craftsmanship. It was an endeavor she had pursued out of an admittedly fleeting desire to empower the defenders of Remnant, having witnessed firsthand the challenges faced by the people ill-equipped against the relentless tide of darkness that threatened their world.
The young woman's gloved hand — fingers adorned with intricate silver patterns — released its grip on the blade, allowing it to settle upon the table's smooth surface with a faint clink. Her attention shifted, drawn away from the table by a faint, melodious hum emanating from the sleek, compact scroll nestled on a nearby shelf. She approached it with measured steps, her boots creating hushed echoes against the chamber's floor.
As she reached the shelf, her fingers reached out and delicately grasped the device; it came to life under her touch, its holographic display materializing in front of her eyes, suspended in the air as she brought the two sections apart. The contents of the message slowly unveiled themselves, revealing a meticulously organized dossier of individuals. Each profile was accompanied by a name, a brief description, and a list of their specialization.
Her eyes scanned the holographic interface, her focus sharpening on the words and images that danced before her. A strand of her gray hair found its way between her fingers, and as she absorbed the information before her, she unconsciously twirled the lock around her digits. The motion was nothing more than a habit at this point. She glanced up from the scroll, her gaze shifting toward the panorama of the bay beyond the window, her gray locks cascaded gracefully down her back — the tips curling ever so slightly — their silvery hue an intentional reflection of the power she wielded, though she had applied it only sparingly... just enough to create a distinctive appearance without drawing too much attention — attention that, in hindsight, she should've expected to gain, considering her incredibly famous standing and the undeniable allure of her achievements.
Really... how did her sister ever deal with this kind of attention, she'll never know...
She shifted her gaze back to the holographic display, her attention ensnared by the profiles that populated the interface. As her eyes moved down the list, she found herself entranced by one particular profile. The image accompanying it displayed a woman with fiery crimson hair tied in a messy bun, framing features of undeniable beauty, and eyes that held a depth of amber like molten gold. Her heart quickened imperceptibly, and her breath caught in her throat. A torrent of memories surged through her mind like a river of emotions, evoking flashes of shared laughter, whispered conversations, and the unspoken promises before she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
'... Heather Shields, was it?' The young woman's lips curved into a wistful smile as she allowed herself a moment of introspection, the corners of her mouth lifting as she reminisced about the times long past. 'And here I thought I had moved on past that point…' her gaze fixed on the image, the details of the profile etching themselves into her memory with a clarity that was almost painful in its intensity... so similar, yet so different at the same time. 'Well, at least things are going to be interesting...'
With a shake of her head, she cleared her mind, dispelling the tendrils of nostalgia that threatened to linger; Kiana returned the scroll to its place on the shelf, her fingers trailing briefly over the rim of the device before she turned away with a determined exhale — her steps carrying her back toward the table strewn with her meticulously crafted arsenal…
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Proofreading and Editing by FargoneMyth/sadron.
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Author's Note: Late~ anyway, as I've said before, all three side stories will focus more on world building, so combat won't be as frequent. Sure, there'll be a bit of a fighting scene here and there, but it won't be more than a few hundred words. I'm splitting the chapter in two, by the way, since I'm not sure if I'll have the time to write in the near future... and for those of you who asked, no, I'm not continuing the BattleTech fanfic unless there's an obvious interest in the story… or maybe I will, so... yeah, sorry about that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Please be gentle with your review~
Disclaimer: Honkai Impact 3rd belongs to miHoYo; RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth.
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Next Update: Trails in The Sea of Souls followed by either Beyond The Veil or Star's Salvation: Lost Echoes.