dreamer213 - Tumblr blog

dreamer213 · 2 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 12: Cybernetic Checkup

The ivory halls of The Titan Learning Institute are bustling with activity as the first lunch break is called. Students dressed in fine black and white plaid uniforms wonder about the cafeteria and courtyard during their break time. Under a particularly shady tree, a pair of unlikely friends sat together on a bench. They were staring into the viewfinder of a scroll, shifting and softly pushing each other back and forth so they could both fit in the frame.

Octavia: Move up it’s only showing your forehead!

She chirps, moving herself over to give Esther some space to get in the frame. Esther moves up but frowns when she sees how the image has shifted on the screen.

Esther: Great now it’s only seeing your neck, Tavia.

Esther whines. Octavia leans back down, realizes she’s right, and starts maneuvering again. On the other side of the screen, Penny is standing in a hallway at the Atlas Huntsman Academy giggling as she watches the two try to figure out a way, they can both fit on the tiny screen. She keeps her eyes on them as they struggle but immediately pipes up when her eyes catch them moving in the right direction to fit.

Penny: Stop! Hold it right there!

Both girls freeze and lock eyes with the viewfinder. Esther’s head is resting on Octavia’s shoulder and Octavia’s high ponytail is mostly cut out off the frame but otherwise, both girls are clearly visible from Penny’s point of view. After a moment Esther starts to blush, flustered from being so close to Octavia’s ample bust, and tries to move away. But Octavia pulls her back to keep her in the frame, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and holding her cheek to from moving away. Penny almost snorts as Esther’s face goes tomato red, it’s so cute to see her face look so expressive! But soon the laughter is replaced with conversation as the girls resume chatting.

Penny: So, you two never stop talking after the masquerade ball?

Octavia: Nope! Esther stayed with me the whole night and came to check on me for a whole week after school!

Esther: She wasn’t going to class, so I brought her our lesson plans to keep her on track and some pastries to cheer her up.

Octavia: I didn’t even know we went to the same school until she showed up in our uniform!

She tugs at her collar with her free hand, showing off her school blazer.

Octavia: Turns out we have half the same classes too and I never even know!

Esther: That’s because I always sit in the back.

Octavia: But her coming by to comfort me really made us bond and we’ve been attached at the hip! She hasn’t left my side since!

She chirps, nuzzling her cheek against Esther’s in a show of affection making the poor girl even reader than she already was if that was even possible. Penny giggles again while Esther shoots her a pleading glance to knock it off.

Penny: That’s great! I’m glad you had someone after.…everything.

The mood immediately drops as the catalyst for the friendship is brought up. Esther goes from red to white and freezes up, but Octavia just sighs before putting on a brave smile.

Octavia: Thanks again for speaking to the general about Daddy. Because of you, he got away with just an in-depth audit and five years of probation.

Penny: Don’t worry about it, it wasn’t a huge issue. I just spoke up on his behalf and hoped General Ironwood would listen.

Octavia: Still! It’s a lot more than any of my other “friends” have done for me in a while.

She uses air quotes around the word friends and rolls her eyes. Penny sees the passive-aggressive glint look her eyes and knows the blinders Octavia had on to her perceived pals’ positive traits had come off fast and hard since she’d last seen her. Which was good but also very sad as it meant she’d most likely just lost 80% of her friends once.

Penny: Oh, did none of the other girls come visit you with Esther?

She asks as softly as possible to lighten the blow but Esther sucking her teeth and looking down in response clues her in that this was definitely not gonna be an easy talk.

Octavia: Nope! Not a one! And who needs them?! You two are much better company anyway!

She states with a huff, Esther and Penny are eased by her conviction. Penny especially is overjoyed that Octavia will be moving away from those bad influences. Despite that, she still feels a little concerned, seeing as they were her closest friends even if it was a one-sided relationship.

Penny: Aw, are you alright?

Octavia: Hmm?

Penny: I mean they were your friends for a long time, it must have been hard to part with them at a time like this.

Penny sympathizes but is soon met with a dark chuckle as Octavia’s expression shifts from an annoyed pout to a mischievous grin. She sighs and cups her cheek, looking oh-so disappointed as she regales the true end to her long-standing fake friendships.

Octavia: Oh, it was very hard. I couldn’t bring myself to face them for weeks! But then this morning….

Her pout starts to crack back into a smirk as she recalls the morning’s events. She had met up with Esther as soon as she’d arrived but as they walked to class they ran into the ill-mannered clique. Seraphina was the first to notice them and her face instantly twisted into fury. She steps in front of them right as they are about to pass, blocking off their path and grabbing Fay, Mackenzie, and Sophia’s attention to the situation. The four immediately start in with passive-aggressive comments, mockingly congratulating Octavia for finally showing her face after her daddy’s very public throwdown and arrest. Instead of looking uncomfortable or pathetic, Octavia responds with a quick “thank you” and tries to move past them. Shocked by her non-reaction Seraphina blocks her again and asks why she is acting so cold, insisting that she was just kidding and there’s no reason to be so rude to a friend.

Octavia: But I’m not though. My friend is right over here.

She gestures to Esther, taking her hand and holding on tight.

Octavia: And we’re going to class.

She tries to push past but is again blocked by Seraphina who can barely hold up her fake smile under the strain of her irritation.

Seraphina: Don’t get smart with me, Tavi. It doesn’t suit you.

She spits with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Octavia doesn’t back down however instead she fires back.

Octavia: And desperate doesn’t suit you. Or maybe it does since you don't mind using your daddy’s money to get some face time with a boy far out of your league.

Serephina’s face drops giving Octavia and Esther a chance to slip past. She looks back for a split second to see that the other three have pounced on Seraphina, demanding to know what Octavia meant. And for the first and last time, the four of them put a truly joyous smile on her face. She’s still wearing that smile as she wraps up her story.

Octavia: And that was that. They let us be and have been at each other’s throats since.

Penny looked surprised at her; she didn't think Octavia could be so sassy though the thought of Seraphina getting heat from her terrible friends did make her crack a smile.

Penny: Wow that’s just…(giggle).. so standard for jerks like that! No loyalty to each other at all!

She says through a fit of laughter, Esther and Octavia joining in as they giggle about the toxic friend group’s implosion. But the laughter is interrupted by a notification on Penny’s screen. It’s a reminder to move down to the robotic lab within the next ten minutes.

Penny: Oh!

She swipes up to clear it, guess girl talk is over.

Penny: Sorry, I gotta go. It’s almost time for my appointment.

Octavia: Aw, already?

Penny: Yup, and I can’t keep the doctor waiting.

Octavia: Okay, good luck with your physical.

Esther: Make sure to eat after.

Penny: I will! Talk to you later, bye!

She waves to them through the screen, and they wave back before cutting the call. From there Penny pockets her scroll and starts walking toward her next task, getting her scheduled physical examination.

Now this wasn’t just her day to get examined, no this was something that happened twice a year for the whole of the academy. Students, soldiers, and huntsmen had to be examined for a medley of reasons, most of which had with the safety of all parties, and it took days to complete because of the three factors.

One, the sheer number of people that needed to be seen. Two, the schedules that need to be changed or adjusted so both cities could be safe while everyone was being looked at. And three, the vast variables in what was considered good health due to semblance, species, and augmentation. Some semblance could change the user's physical state or require a certain body type to function which would be considered unhealthy in normal circumstances. Some fanus have certain physical differences depending on animal traits that affect their marks for health. And lastly, there were some people with prosthetics enlisted, which changed how their examinations were carried out as the condition of prosthetics needed to be documented in detail for the safety of all. All together the Atlas Huntsmen Academy physical examinations took a full workweek to finish.

Penny was one of the few who had priority and had to be examined on day one. This day was mostly reserved for special agents who could not be out of the field for more than a few hours, a third of those with mechanical prostheses, people healing from recent injuries, and certain huntsmen who had difficulty going to the doctor of their own accord. Basically, the system prioritized getting the difficult work done first to lessen the impact of the week’s chaos.

While she didn’t hate getting checked up on, Penny didn’t really enjoy physical examinations, especially after getting her new body. She was advised not to eat for twelve hours beforehand and with her new stronger senses the examination felt much more invasive than it ever had before.

Penny: I really hope Dr. Echinacea warms her hands a little this time.

She prays while taking a shortcut through the medic wing to get to the robotics development. As she’s about to pass by a door opens and Neon jumps out, landing on the floor with a thud. Her eyes are dilated and her bright orange hair tail is upright with every strand of fur standing on end!

Penny: Neon!

Penny bends down to try and help her up but the moment she reaches out her hand Neon hisses in her face and starts to swipe her away. Penny jumps to avoid Neon’s surprisingly sharp nail as the fanus continues to behave like an aggressive cat!

Penny: Ah Neon! Stop it! Hey!

Penny pleas while dodging the orange cat girl's attempts to furiously claw her face! After several seconds she manages to grab both of Neon’s arms and tries to look her over to see what’s got her so spooked.

Flynt: Get your ass back here!

The shouting voice of an agitated Flynt makes Neon freeze for a moment before breaking into a full panic. She struggles to get out of Penny’s grasp and escape, but the other redhead’s grip is too strong to break! Meanwhile, Penny has no idea what happening and doesn’t get the chance to ask before the rest of team FMKI comes rushing out of the same door as Neon.

Kobalt: There you are, come here!

Kobalt reaches down to grab Neon and with no means of escape, she jumps up and clings to Penny for dear life wrapping her legs, arms, and tail around her hips and burying her head in Penny’s shoulder to keep from being pulled away. Still, Kobalt grabs her and tries to pull her off, but Neon’s grip is too tight, and Penny’s solidness just makes for more resistance.

Kobalt: Seriously?!!!

He roars, arms start hard at work trying to get her off. Seeing him struggle the other men of FNKI grab onto their bulkiest teammate and start pulling with him.

Flynt: Come on Kitty! Enough’s enough! You can’t keep running all day!

Ivori: Please! It’ll be over sooner if you just stop fighting!!!

Kobalt: And you’re way too old to be pulling this shit anyways, so cut it out!

They shouted, putting all their strength into pulling but the neon-covered girl was not letting up for a second. Still unaware of what exactly going on but seeing their efforts and knowing the team’s dynamic Penny makes the executive decision to let go of Neon’s arms and gently pull her. Once she releases her grip the change in force makes Neon flinch and lose her balance, sending her and her teammates flying backwards. All four end up on the floor, Neon hitting the ground the hardest as she slams down onto her back. She groans and rubs her head while her teammates get back to their feet.

Kobalt: She’s down! Get her!!!

He shouts and all three pounces on her! After a bit of a struggle, Ivori and Kobalt manage to lift Neon by her torso and legs, despite her flailing around. With her detained Flynt brushes himself off and approaches Penny.

Flynt: Thanks for grabbing her, we’ve been trying to get her in all day.

He states apologetically while rubbing the back of his neck. Penny looks at him confused and decides to inquire about what in the world this was all about.

Penny: You're welcome, Flynt but why was Neon acting that way? I’ve never seen her so distressed.

Flynt: Oh, that.

Flynt pauses before letting out an aspirated sigh, it was barely early afternoon, but his eyes looked exhausted even though his dark shades.

Flynt: Neon hates doctors. Never liked going to see one for anything. Something about the vibes being too strict making her cat side go crazy. So, we gotta drag her in by the scuff for team check-ups.

Penny: Ohhhh.

Suddenly it all clicked, Neon often leaned into her cat instincts, but Penny would have never guessed it went so far as to hold similar fears like this. But knowing that now it made a lot of sense though that barely dulled the shock of a young woman acting like a house cat throwing a hissy fit over a trip to the vet. Flynt smiles as he can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she thinks but a quick look of surprise overtakes him as remembers something.

Flynt: Ah, hold up. I just remembered something.

Flynt cuts off her bewilderment by reaching into his pocket and pulling two concert tickets. Upon closer inspection, they are tickets to team FNKI’s upcoming performance!

Flynt: Neon said she owned a few so she had me earmark yours when they printed. Best seats in the house for our favorite fearless hero.

He offers up the ticket with a flourish, twirling them from under his thumb and pointer finger to between the middle and pointer. Penny takes the tickets and gives them a good look; they’re made of strong cardstock printed black with neon lettering. “FNKI NIGHT!” was the event name, written in a rainbow of neon colors. A fitting name for their act.

A bright grin spreads across Penny’s face as the sight of the tickets fills her with giddiness!

Penny: Premium Tickets to Team FNKI’s concert! Eh!

She squeals, so happy another one of her little dreams was coming true.

Penny: Thank you so much, Flynt!

She reaches out to grab them but right before her fingertips can touch one Flynt lifts up his arm and holds them out of the way. Penny tilts her, perplex. Didn’t he just offer her these a second ago? Flynt smirks at her confusion and holds the tickets out to her again but snatches them away again, pulling to the right. Try again and he swipes them away at the last minute once more. After the third time, Penny recognizes that he’s just messing with her, but seeing as she has places to be she’s not about to let him win. The next time she reaches out, she purposefully lets him pull his hand away only to snatch the tickets as he’s mid-motion. Flynt blinks and looks at his empty hand then back at Penny who’s sweetly grasping the tickets with both of her hands. A lovely innocent smile on her face, as if she hadn't just moved faster than the blink of an eye to end their game of keep away.

Penny: I look forward to the show! It’s my first time going to this type of concert!

She states cheekily, pocketing the tickets. Flynt pauses but soon breaks into a chuckle, realizing she’s got him beat.

Flynt: Great! Means we get to one’s to introduce you to funk! It’s gonna blow you away!

Penny: Given your semblance and weapon style, I expect as much!

She chirps, giggling a bit. Flynt is puzzled for a second then realizes she’s joking. Now he’s feeling kinda proud as he didn’t even know she could do comebacks.

Flynt: Aw you little-now you gettin’ too quick for your own good. You better slow your roll before I slow it for ya!

He jokes, ruffling her for giving him such flack.

Flynt: See you there.

He waves her goodbye and disappears back into the medical examination room with his team, Neon still thrashing about as they carry her off to get checked up.

With her path cleared, Penny continues on her merry way to the robotics department. She manages to arrive on time and is immediately greeted by Dr. Mina Echinacea. Outfitted in her usual lab coat and navy-blue sweater dress, she had been a transfer from Mistral in her youth and studied under Pietro. She was one of the handful of scientists who helped create Penny and the one who had done much of the fine-tuning of her more feminine qualities, her specialty. As the only woman on the team, she put all her effort into crafting and consulting on certain things. Things only another woman would truly understand the importance of enough to properly replicate faithfully.

Mina: Womanhood is a very unique existence to nearly impossible to recreate, as it will never feel truly accurate due to the very nature of being a homosapien female. Doubt, self-pity, and ego are irreplaceable parts of the female experience. If she takes pride in her parts but questions their validity, then we’ve done something right.

That was her philosophy when it came to her work on female-specific prosthetics. Her work restored femininity to many unfortunate women and was a big part of creating Penny’s. In the medical world, she was seen as the curator of the female form.

Mina: Good afternoon, Penny.

She greets her, voice familiar but not warm in the way Ironwood or her dad called her. No Mina was a lot more hands-off with Penny, examinations being the one exception. Penny doesn’t notice or mind her sterile greeting and returns it with her usual positive energy.

Penny: Salutations, Dr. Echinacea! Is my examination room ready?

Mina: Yes, but we’ll be in the far back today. Your father’s finally got the general down here for proper testing and tune-ups and the equipment he needs can’t be moved.

Penny: I understand, please lead the way!

She asks kindly, Mina nods and leads her down the hallways to the exam room. Entering the room it’s just how Penny expected. A modest room with a specialized medical bed with several cables directly above it, normal physical examination equipment, some special examination equipment such as a special movable x-ray screen, and a clear computer connected to the bed. All of this was inclosed to a specific half of the room as it doubles as an observation room, so one wall was covered with a viewing window. Thankfully the view from it can be blocked with the push of a button. Which Mina does as she goes over to the computer and grabs a disposable gown from the medical cabinet underneath it.

Mina: We’re doing a full health scan today, so you’ll need to strip.

She states, holding out the gown to Penny while facing the computer. Penny takes the gown and moves other side of the room. Giving a harsh look over at the now thickly tinted viewing window to make sure no one can see through; Penny takes a deep breath and strips. Putting her backpack down first before slowly stepping out of her rocket boots. With the clunky boots off she can start taking off her fabric attire, beginning with college and her blouse. She takes off the blouse first, pulling down the straps of her skirt off her shoulder and then unbuttoning her top. After she pulls it off her shoulders, Penny folds the shirt and lays it on her backpack, followed but her collar and brooch. Next is her high skirt, undoing the gold buttons in front loosens the corset-like upper half of the skirt enough for her to pull it open and slip her legs out. Removed and folded, it too joins the pile of clothing, and soon after so does her bow. Now all that’s left is her underclothing.

Yes, underclothing.

Specifically, a simple matching black bra and panties set.

This was one of the worst parts of getting examined as with her newly strengthened senses Penny could feel the air on her body just as much as anyone else could. But her senses were fresh, every lick of air a new sensation Penny hadn’t known before in places she couldn’t feel before, at least to this extent. It made her extremely sensitive and easily embarrassed when exposed. But for the sake of her health, she had to.

Steadying her hands and pulling her hair over one shoulder, Penny reaches back and unclasps her bra. Taking it off, she can feel the weight of her breasts droop downward as they lose its support. She wraps her arm around them as she adds the bra to the clothes pile, holding them up and shielding them from the cool air. With her free hand, she pulls down her underwear, crossing her legs as she walks out of them.

Penny’s so busy trying to get changed quickly that she doesn’t notice Mina glancing at her. She watches her very carefully, not for any voyeuristic purpose but for her body’s reactions. Penny’s skin seems to respond perfectly to the loss of covering and warmth, her breasts move with the weight and fluidity of nature breast their size down to the way the nipples sagged when unrestrained. Testament to years of research, technological advancement, and effort.

After she’s stripped down to nothing Penny immediately puts on the medical gown to cover herself. Tying the string of the thin medical robe around her neck and mid back. Everything was covered from the front, but the back had huge gaps, necessary for the exam. Still, being wrapped nothing but in napkin-thin cloth in a low-temperature sterile lab did little to calm her growing discomfort.

Mina: Are you ready?

Mina asks, now looking directly at her.

Penny nods, picking up her clothes and rushing to the exam bed before the cool air can settle in any further. Setting her clothes and backpack aside and hopping up onto the bed, sitting upright with her shoulder back, back straight, and chest out as the examination begins.

The first few steps are fairly ordinary, checking her eyes, ears, mouth, and throat for any signs of damage, irritation, or blockage. Next is the breathing and pulse test followed by a reflex check. All seems in order, the small shivers running down Penny’s spine at the feel of Mina’s cold hands being testament to that, leaving Mina to sit back at the computer.

Mina: Optics, audio, and pharynx systems are clean and in perfect working order. Reflexes and limb movement are tight, fluid, and responsive. Airways are clear, temperature fluctuates properly, and no external damage to be reported.

She says aloud while typing the information into Penny’s medical report.

Mina: Alright, that’s the external test done. Now for the internal diagnostic. Please move your hair aside and keep your back straight.

She asks. Penny nods and parts her hair down the middle with her hands, swiping a half over each shoulder leaving her scalp bare. She takes a deep breath, and a circle of skin on her scalp ripples open to reveal a port. It’s a little larger than the charging port which also opens up along with one just below Penny’s shoulder blades. These ports had several purposes, the head and chest ports were for checking her internal functions and monitoring her soul chamber, which resided underneath her heart. The charge port was delivered electricity to her body through her skeletal system and brain, powering her body and weapons systems. The one connected purpose they played was allowing connecting cables to be plugged into Penny directly so her data could be accessed securely.

Speaking of cables, the ones above the bed descend, and Mina walks over and guides each into the correct port.

Penny doesn’t feel too much, just a jolt when the head and chest cables are entered. The skin that had retraced went numb when the cables connected but that was only on her back. Unlike a human or faunus whose skin are a singular connected organ; Penny’s was technically multiple pieces. A special fixable skin-like polymers with microscope sensory tech engrained into it, modded to be completely zero tense, micro vein-like cables thread the pieces together so tight they are seamless to the naked eye.

Once everything is connected, Mina uses the computer to access Penny’s data. Months of information on muscle memory, sleeping recorders, charging time, weapon system use and so much more. Honestly, she could look through Penny’s brain for almost anything it stored, including memories, but that was not what this examination was for. Mina wasn’t the type to dig through the poor girl’s head unless it was completely necessary and after getting serval levels of clearance as well as Penny’s consent. She just needed to take a cursory glance to ensure everything was working as it should.

Thus, she focuses on finding outliers rather than mundane information. Almost immediately she notices certain areas of activity that have changed drastically, lining up with the reports she has on Penny’s most recent mission and noted incidents. The first to catch her attention is the increments of increased stress levels and lower sleep cycle. Then several severe spikes in emotional distress on several different occasions within close intervals. This is concerning but understandable given the circumstances surrounding the spikes. But what does surprise Mina is the other abnormalities, flares of emotions she hadn’t seen in Penny’s data ever. Instances of affectionate behavior that were far from her usual friendly behavior, pulse acceleration with temperature increases but no stress indicators, and stimulating of her lips in a way that only contact with another set could generate!

Mina: Well, I’ll be damned. She’s gone off and found somebody.

Mina thought, making note of all of this. She’ll question Penny on some of this new info during the wrap questions but at the moment Penny’s systems seem completely fine.

Mina: Okay, everything seems in order. Now I just need to take a look with the X-ray then ask you some questions and we’re done.

She states, typing out a few more notations before ending the connection with Penny’s brain. As she takes out the cables Penny looks oddly nervous.

This was the part she dreaded most. Not for any truly logical reason, this was actually the safest part of almost all health examinations. This X-ray was the safest for both the technician and the patient, specifically because it was made for her. But there was one thing that made her so nervous about being under the machine.

Magnetic pull.

Now Penny’s new body wasn’t as magnetic as the last but that wasn’t the problem. It was just that ever since the tournament the idea of a magnetic pull on her frightened Penny deeply. Just like having anything thin wrapping around her waist it just brought her back to that day. Being in pieces at Pyrrha’s feet right before the darkness enveloped her into an endless void for an ungodly amount of time. Rationally she knees nothing will happen but just knowing how it functioned made her feel unnerve. Mina notices her nervousness and gives her a reassuring head pat.

Mina: It’s alright, dear. Even a steel pen wouldn’t stick to it.

She says, voice soft as her touch. Penny, while still very nervous, elects to believe her and proceeds with the exam. The screen was made for body scans and came up to her neck, so Penny stood straight up as it was placed in front of her and turned on. The screen is connected to the computer and the scan is reflected in the monitor. Her gaze drifts over to it as Mina inspection the X-ray screen.

It’s miraculous, at a quick glance the image showed a perfectly normal organ system of a perfectly healthy human woman. Heart, lungs, stomach, intestines, and all vital organs were present and accounted for even the muscle looked conversing down to the joints. But upon closer inspection, it's clear things aren’t as they seem. The bones were a little too thick on the inside, where there should be fat was something close in appearance but not quite the same, a vaginal tunnel with no womb at its end. And the most obvious piece, the small cage like organ right below the heart, pulsing with a spring green glow. A part that housed something that was meant to be felt and not seen, her soul.

Penny: So alike but so different, down to the microscopic level.

Penny muses apathetically, this was the reality of her existence. She was made not born, with purpose not on impulse. Both a blessing and a curse as she could view humanity from the outside objectively but would also remain completely outside it.

A one-of-a-kind sense of otherness for a one-of-a-kind being like her.

Penny: I wonder what he’d think if he could see through me, see the truth. What…would he say? …Would he yell? Cry? …Would he ever want to look at me again? Could I even-

Mina: Alright everything looks fine in here.

Penny’s melancholic thoughts are interrupted by Mina giving her the all-clear. With that done she turns off the X-ray and they walk back to the exam bed.

Mina: Looks like everything is working fine and dandy I just need to ask you a few questions and we’ll be-

A buzzing cuts Mina off, it’s her scroll. She holds up a hand and mouths “excuse me” while fishing the device out of her pocket. It’s an urgent message, a huntress patient’s more delicate prosthetics had been damaged and needed immediate care before there was permanent damage to the organic tissue.

Mina: Oh no.

Penny: What is it?

Mina: An issue’s come up and my assistance is needed, or someone might die.

Penny: What?! No!

Mina: I know! Don’t worry I’m texting someone to come and finish up your exam. Just get dressed and stay put, they should be here soon!

She states as fast as she can coherently speak, not giving Penny time to respond before she rushes out of the room still typing as she speed-walks to her emergency patient. Now alone Penny gets redressed and waits on the exam bed for…

Penny: Wait, who did she text to finish the exam?

Penny wondered, having been left without any clue of who was coming to oversee the last part of her checkup. There were few people qualified or permitted to handle her medical information or care. Most were busy or relocated, her dad was busy, and she didn't think anyone else fit the criteria to tend to her. The answer comes when the door to the lab room opens and a familiar face walks through.

Her black gloves were replaced by a black cardigan with gold bows and ribbon embroidered down the long sleeves. Her usual long boots were swapped for ankle-high engine boots paired with long black stockings. And her sapphire hair had grown past her nape and down to her shoulder. But she still had her same wrapped collar shirt, high waist skirt, and the cheeky beret she never left home without. Regardless of any changes she was still her.

Penny: Ciel!

Penny cried, grinding ear to ear as she spotted her favorite handler. If not for the fact Penny knew Ciel didn’t like to be touched without permission, she would have tackled her into a hug by now! Still, the smile on her face makes it abundantly clear, she’s absolutely elated to see her again!

But as she approaches it appears that the feeling isn’t mutual. Ciel’s gaze is cold as she barely glances at Penny before pulling up the mini hologram screen on her smartwatch.

Ciel: Good afternoon, my name is Ciel Soleil, and I’ll be handling your post-exam questionnaire.

She states. Her voice is strict, professional, and impersonal. Penny blinked, bewildered by her icy tone.

Though she and Ciel hadn’t been the best of friends before, but Ciel had never been this cold to her. They got along well long before the tournament so she couldn’t understand where this attitude was coming from. Wanting answers Penny responded politely but firmly.

Penny: I know who you are, you worked as a junior in the robotics department under my dad. We went to Vale together-

Ciel: Thank you, now let’s get this over with. First question,

She interrupts her, disregarding Penny’s statement without a second of consideration.

Ciel: Have you experienced any auditor or visual glitches during daily activity?

Penny: N-no, I haven’t. Anyway, how have you been-

Ciel: Good, moving on.

She cuts her off again, barreling past any attempts at small talk. Her curtness is like a needle to the heart as Penny can’t understand why she’s acting this way.

Ciel: Any involuntary movement of your limbs during or after combat.

Penny: Ciel…

Ciel: Please answer the question.

Penny: No.

Ciel: Alright, moving on.

Ciel continues to rattle off health questions, never looking up from her screen as she inputs the correlating data. Penny answers in turn but can feel her chest squeeze at every failed attempt to get Ciel to converse with her openly.

Why was this happening? After how they had parted this should have been at tearful reunion. A joyous moment where the two could celebrate and reconnect after surviving impossible odds but instead, there was…nothing.

But why?

Had she done something wrong the last ten they spoke? What was causing Ciel, straightforward put together but kind and caring Ciel, to act like…this? Like they were complete strangers.

Penny: I don’t get it, she used to take such good care of me. So why…

Penny can feel herself tearing up, gripping the hem of her skirt as tries to holt them from flowing and complete the questionnaire. Ciel doesn’t even turn her head and begins to list the last few questions.

Ciel: Have you had any issues with digestion or waste disposal?

Penny: …No.

Ciel: Have you ingested any harmful or hazardous materials in the last few months?

Penny: …no.

Ciel: Have you experienced any impulses or curiosities of a sexual nature-wait, what?!

Penny: Excuse me?!

This question shocks both of them, Penny, especially as such a topic has never come up in a physical examination before!

Penny: Why would Dr. Echinacea even ask this?! I’ve never even had those kinds of-

Penny’s confusion is quickly cut when she recalls every time a certain white-haired gentleman had made her flustered in the last few months.

Penny: Oh…right.

Her face turns a bright red as she realizes her once-pure mind has generated and experienced enough lewdness in the wake of her first crush that it could detected on scans. The tingles that had both frightened and intrigued her were now markers of her evolution into a sexually aware young woman. Along with every ounce of pure awkwardness that entailed.

Meanwhile, Ciel is utterly aghast by this line of questioning and checks the list again to make sure she read it right. To her horror, that was indeed the correct question, and the last two also concerned topics of a sexual nature.

Ciel: What the hell is this?! What kind of crap show are they running here?!!!

She almost shouts, incensed by the idea that the Penny she knew would ever be asked something like this. The girl herself immediately picks up on her discomfort and tries to reassure her despite her own distress.

Penny: I-it’s okay! I’m fine with answering that-(hiccup)-Okay, not actually fine with it but I can answer if you need me to!

She stammers, face getting redder as she tries to spare them both the brunt of the embarrassment and fails miserably.

Ciel: Can’t believe this. As if scavenging her remains to build a replacement wasn't bad enough, they couldn’t even get the damn thing right!

Penny: What?

Penny questions confused and concerned about whatever misconception were running through Ciel’s thoughts right now, but the lady doesn’t hear her pleas.

Ciel: Penny would never even think of something bad enough to be asked this shit!!!

She grumbles, gritting her teeth in frustration. Penny’s thoughts jumble when she hears this, this was completely out of left field.

Penny: W-what? What are you talking about, Ciel? What replacement?!

She asks, frazzled by this ludicrous assumption Ciel was making but Ciel just scuffs.

Ciel: So, they didn’t tell you about the girl you were built from, huh? (huff) Figures.

She groans, face still turned away from Penny. This response elicits a rare reaction out of Penny, anger. How dare she say that when she had no idea the hell Penny had been through! Surviving that incident was an absolute nightmare that had scared her for life! Even now she was still recovering from the restlessness and fear that it bloomed in her! And to be written off after working so hard to overcome that suffering was something she couldn’t bear!

Penny: I wasn’t built from anyone, I was rescued! I had to cling to life for months while they put me back together!

Ciel: Is that what they told you? Or did they implant some fake memories to keep you docile and obedient?

This remark gets Penny fuming, how dare Ciel question her memories! She wasn’t even there when she woke up and she hadn’t reached out since so what gave her the right to talk like this?!

Penny: No one told me anything, I lived it! I went through so much pain and misery just to get back on up and outside again! I had to go through so much after I being cut in half-

Ciel: PENNY POLENDINA WAS CUT IN HALF!!!

She growls, gazes still downturned as she pulls at the ends of her sleeves.

Ciel: Penny Polendina was cut in half by Pyrrha Nikos during the Vytal Festival Tournament. She…died…she died on the cold floor of the arena in front of a stadium of people.

Ciel states, her matter-of-fact tone creeping into a weeper. This is what Ciel had believed but Penny knew that was far from the truth.

Penny: I was cut in half, but I didn’t die. My body shut down and put whatever remaining power it had left into keeping my brain alive and my soul put for as long as it could! When they recovered me, I was in terrible condition, but I was still alive!

Ciel: That isn’t possible, she was-

Penny: Shut up! I’m talking now!

Penny shouts, jumping up from the exam bed and matching right up to Ciel before continuing.

Penny: I was taken back to Atlas functional life support, not that I knew at the time because I was unconscious during all of it. When they stabilized me, transferred me to my new body, everything!

Ciel can’t even lift her head to contest her words as Penny proceeds with her tirade.

Penny: I couldn’t see, hear, or feel anything outside of my own mind. I was stuck in a black empty void for so long I couldn’t tell time if was passing anymore! Screaming to myself almost every second because I was scared I’d forget what sound was! That if I lost my last sense then I’d really die!!!

Tears begin to flow from her eyes, memories of that endless darkness shaking her to the core.

Penny: I had nightmares about being trapped in that hell again! I refused to sleep because I’d rather stay awake and let my mind fall apart than risk never getting back up!!!

Her shouts become choked as they blend into sobs, her tears running down her cheeks like a river as she recounts all the trauma she’d endured.

Penny: I have been through so much…too much…I’m Penny Polendina, The Penny Polendina! I was broken in half and survived every second of recovering from and living after it!!! SO DON’T YOU DARE…. Don’t you dare call me a copy, because I’m not.

Her breath hitches and she breaths hard, that was the first time she’d ever told anyone except her dad the full extent of her suffering but once she knew Ciel thought she had just died and been replaced she couldn’t keep it in!

It was too unfair! To her and Ciel.

Ciel doesn’t respond to anything Penny says, standing in perfect silence as she absorbs this massive revelation. Head still down, her hair curtaining her face and obscuring her expression. Penny doesn’t take this well, she can't stand being ignored after streaming out so much raw emotion.

Penny: Look at me, Ciel. Look at me!!!

She demands and Ciel does turn her head to look at her. Her eyes are glazed over with tears, the reflection of which calms Penny immediately. She reaches out to cup her cheek but stops just short to not cross Ciel’d boundaries. Looking at her, directly at her, Ciel gazes into her eyes and finally recognizes the girl she thought she’d lost forever. Not a fake or copy, but the same girl transformed in body and changed in mind but still the same kind soul.

Ciel: …Penny? You’re...really…

She can’t bring herself to finish her sentences and breaks down into a sobbing mess. Her once-steeled heart cracks open under the weight of the miracle she’s experiencing. Seeing her tears Penny does what she always does when she wants to cheer someone up and hold her close. Feeling her warm made the moment all too real, as real as the grief she felt when she watched Penny plunge to the ground in two pieces.

Her heart could hardly take it! A joy born from immense pain, healing, and hurting in a way she had never dreamed possible. But given the person who was holding her Ciel should have known some dreams could come true.

#fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwby #fanfiction #penny polendina #beta testers #whitley schnee #angst #cute #pietro polendina #ciel soleil #james ironwood #sorry this is so late!#more coming soon

3 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 2 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 11: Talk To Me

Penny: I’m sorry but could you repeat that?

Penny asked, sitting upright in her bed. She had just woken up and hadn’t even gotten out of bed to wash up yet, pajamas and fluffy bedhead evidence to this as she stares intently at her scroll while on a video call with her boyfriend. Said boyfriend sighs softly before repeating his statement as instructed.

Whitley: My father forced me on a dinner date so he could a campaign donation out of the girl’s father.

He says matter of factly, knowing there was no real way to sugarcoat that information.

Penny: I see, that's what I thought you said….…WHAT!

She screams, absolutely outraged by what she just heard! Penny already had a low opinion of Jacques Schnee for his personality, actions, and overall demeanor. Truly there was no one Penny thought worse than him and yet every time she heard more about him her disdain for him grew. She wouldn’t say she hated him really, that was too strong of a word, but her patience for the crooked businessman was wearing thinner by the day.

Penny: What is wrong with him!!! How could he do that without your permission?!

Whitley: He’s a schemer, he’ll use any and every tool at his disposal to get what he wants. The girl wanted time with me, and her father had something my father wanted, so he made it happen.

Penny: But you’re his son, his biological family!

Whitley: And both titles are not mutually exclusive. At least in my case.

He states completely nonchalantly as per usual, acting utterly unaffected by the disrespect he’d received from his primary parental figure. Penny’s about to argue but can feel a hiccup coming on. She knows that a person could be both someone’s child and a tool in various ways, she herself was that by definition. Growing frustrated, Penny sighed and moved on to the other thing that was bothering her about this situation.

Penny: So, who was it?

Whitley: Hmm?

Penny: Who did you have to have dinner with?

Whitley: I’m not sure I should tell you that.

Penny: Wha? Why?!

Whitley: Penny, darling, you are a wonderful and caring person. Truly one of the most, if not the most, lovable people I have ever met. Buy my dear you are also very very strong and very emotional.

Penny: And? What are you implying?

Whitley: I’m just saying that telling you the name of the girl with that high of an interest in me might not be the safest thing. I mean you’ve taken down full-grown men with ease; I don’t want to think about what would happen to a teenage girl if she got on your warpath.

He jokes. honestly Whitley knew Penny wasn’t the type to respond to jealousy with rage but talking around the situation was the best way he could think of to soften the blow.

Penny: So, you think I would hurt her?

Whitley: No, but it’s best to not tempt fate.

Penny: Whitley!!!

Whitley: Okay, okay I’ll tell you. Do you remember Octavia’s little “friend group.”

Penny: Yeah?

Whitley: It was one of those girls, Seraphina actually.

Penny: Seraphina…That Seraphina!

Penny’s eyes go wide, a hot ball of fury blooming in her stomach. Out of all the ill-behaved girls in that group it had to be the most vulgar of them. Recalling how causally and thoughtlessly Seraphina had sexualized Whitley the first and only time she’d spoken with her, Penny felt a tinge of worry overlapping with her anger.

Penny: Did…did she do anything?

Whitley: Pardon?

Penny: Did she do anything to you? Anything…inappropriate?

She asks her voice soft and full of sincerity. Penny didn’t want to think of the worst-case scenario but knowing how Seraphina viewed Whitley and how little control he likely had in the situation she couldn’t help it. Sensing her concern, Whitley decides to stop with the games and clear the air before she gets carried away in the what-ifs.

Whitley: There were attempts of flirting and touching, she even followed me to the bathroom-

Penny: (gasps)

Whitley: -But! That was it. I managed to keep her at bay for whole the night without causing a scene. Nothing happened.

Penny: Really?

Whitley: Yes.

Penny: Okay.

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding Penny felt the ball of rage deflate as relief washed over her. Her heart was still pounding but her mind felt at ease that the worst-case scenario hadn’t taken place. Seeing the calm expression blooming on Penny’s face Whitley decides that now is the time to reveal his surprise.

Whitley: But I must admit, I don’t make it through the night myself.

Penny: Huh?

Whitley: I had a little help from some…unexpected friends.

He chuckles and then explains how he ran into Esther and Octavio and recruited their assistance during dinner.

Whitley: There was only one thing they wanted in exchange.

Penny: And that was?

He doesn’t answer, but soon a text message notification from his number pings on Penny’s scroll. Opening it she finds two mobile numbers, one for Esther and one for Octavia. Penny’s eyes widen in confusion on delight as her gaze shifts between the message and the video-fed of Whitley, who was casually smiling at her through the screen. His night of struggling to maintain his dignity and chastity had paid off well.

Whitley: They’ve been looking for you for a while and I promised to give you their contact info if I got the chance. It’s up to you whether or not to use it.

Penny: I…thank you, Whitley!

Whitley: No problem, dear. Now I have to get back to work.

Penny: On a Sunday?

Whitley: The dinner interrupted me from finishing up something I needed to get done so I could come see you today.

Penny: Oh, so…no date this week?

Whitley: No.

Penny pouts, this wasn’t uncommon given Whitley’s packed schedule but the reason behind this week’s derailment had her feeling a bit miffed. How unfair that a brat like Seraphina got to go on a date with Whitley when she, his own girlfriend, couldn’t without the right timing and lots of planning! All because her dad had the money to buy his time off of Jacques!

Penny: Hmmm.

She grumbles, Whitley chuckles at her adorable sour face.

Whitley: I know but look on the bright side. You have two lovely little lady friends to keep you company in my stead.

Penny: That true, but it still doesn’t make me miss you less.

Whitley: Me either, I’ll call again tonight. Love you.

Penny: Love you too!

They both blow each other a kiss and the call soon disconnects leaving Penny all alone in her room once more. Looks over to her closet to stare at the outfit she’d picked out earlier in the week in case of a last-minute date and sighs.

Penny: It’s been hanging up there for a few days; it feels kind of wasteful to just put it back.

She muses somberly, with her day off now open the outfit had no purpose. It was a shame as she tried to experiment a little, pairing a long yellow cardigan with a blue dress with white polka dots and fastening the matching belt around the waistline. She’d even walked around in her yellow boots a bit every night to break them in so they could be added to the look. Now there was no reason to even put it on.

Penny: Maybe I should just go spend the day with someone? Be who?

Her options without Whitley were not great, Team FUNKI was still practicing for their upcoming concert, Uncle James was always buried in work, and Winter practical went missing in action whenever she wasn’t on duty. In fact, the only person she knew was free and go somewhere was-

Penny: Wait.

Penny sits upright and jumps out of bed; she puts on her slippers then rushes out her bedroom. Jogging down the stairs and heading to the kitchen, she finds her dad making breakfast. Hearing her coming Pietro looks up from his skillet to greet her.

Pietro: Morning Sweetpea!

Penny: Morning Dad!

She chirps before rushing up to him and giving him a soft tackle hug.

Penny: What’s for breakfast?

Pietro: Just eggs and bacon, we’re outta pancake mix.

Penny: Yeah, and a lot of other stuff too. That’s why you’re going shopping today, right?

Pietro: Yup!

Penny: Can I come with you?

That gives the old man some pause. Now Pietro knew about his daughter’s relationship and how she acted when it was time to see her little bae so this sudden shift in plans meant something must have happened. So, he calls her on it.

Pietro: What about your date?

Penny: It…got canceled.

She says trying not to huff again in frustration. Seeing her pout makes Pietro chuckle as he presses on.

Pietro: Well, what happened there?

Penny: Jacques happened.

Pietro: Oooooh.

Penny: Yeah. And if I talk about it anymore, I feel like I’m going to scream!

She huffs, eliciting another laugh from her dad.

Penny: So, may I please go shopping with you?

Pietro: Of course, Sweetie! Now sit down, food’s about done.

Penny nods and skips over to the dining table. After they have breakfast, the father-daughter pair clean up the dishes and get dressed for their errand. Pietro takes a bit longer to get to the front door as he packs tote bags onto his chair to carry their groceries. When they’re all set Penny and Pietro leave the house and take the city bus to head to the market. You see, Pietro despite his great intellect was a very simple man. He liked to get his bread from the bakery and meat from the butchers when he could manage it. Sure, he could go into a big box store and get everything in one go but that wasn’t how he liked to do things. As someone who put their heart into their craft, he preferred to patron others who did the same. That’s what the bags were for, reusables for holding different products from familiar stores.

As they go from shop to shop Penny watches Pietro be greeted and greet the people inside with the kind of familiarity that takes years to develop. The staff at the general store know him by name, and the bakery already has his usual order set aside for him in by the time they walk in. She even offers Penny a couple of free cupcakes.

Valora: They’re from a test batch for a new flavor. Give it a try!

Pietro: Ah, thanks Valora. You’re too sweet.

Valora: It’s nothing, I was looking for test runners anyway.

The kind elder woman holds out the treat to Penny with a smile. It was a vanilla cupcake with powder pink icing and topped with a candied strawberry. Simple but cute, like something a sweet little girl would ask for as a treat while out with her parents.

Penny: Octavia would love this…in fact.

Penny takes out her scroll, opens the camera app, and snaps a few pictures of the cupcakes before taking them gently. She thanks the baker before taking a bite. The coating on the strawberry breaks with a soft crunch, the icing is peach-flavored, and the inside is filled with a soft peach jam. It’s an interesting tasting treat as it’s very sweet but somewhat tart. It’s a very summery flavor and Penny really enjoys it, easting about half before offering the other to her dad. As the two share sweeties Valora looks on with a satisfied smirk.

Valora: It’s good?

Penny nods yes, lips in a tight smile to keep her mouth full of baked delight from falling out.

Valora: That’s a relief, I had to sub a few things out here and there. What with that bolt head locking up the boarder-

She stops herself, slapping her hand over her mouth and excusing herself back to the kitchen. Penny looks puzzled by her words, but Pietro quickly leads her away to head to their next stop. But as they carry on with their errand Penny picks up on a common topic of conversation, complains about the border situation. This wasn’t uncommon to hear at all with how much the whole world was shaken when Beacon fell but it seemed the context of the heightened security was slowly becoming twisted.

Blame for the constrictions and slowing of supply chains was being placed on Ironwood. This wasn’t exactly wrong, but the decision had its reasons! There was a dangerous force running loose in the world with nothing but malicious acts in mind. It wanted nothing more than to rain chaos and cessation wherever it went.

Penny: It’s not like he wanted this but what choice did he have?! After what happened to Beacon, even what happened to during the tournament was already-

Penny stops in her tracks and grabs her stomach, her waist burning from the memory. Her injuries were a part of the beginning of it all, a smokescreen to cause confusion while the real nightmare unfolded. She knew the horrors it would bring onto even the most innocent or irrelevant.

Seeing her discomfort Pietro suggests they stop at a nearby park bench to catch their breath, Penny agrees. It takes some maneuvering to get their groceries situated without dropping anything. In that organizing, Pietro finds he’s forgotten something at the last stop they made. Since it’s not too far away Pietro leaves Penny behind to go retrieve it. Alone again, Penny can feel the melancholy rolling in. All day she had tried to look at the positives no matter how pessimistic things had gotten but that was a hard task to do alone when people around were in just as bad shape. Whitley was forced on a horrible date, the tension in Mantle was still high, and even her fellow huntsman friends were too busy preparing their concert to hang out with her. It’s sad but couldn’t a protector have someone to lean when she was down?

Penny: Maybe I’m being too greedy. I shouldn't beg for attention whenever I feel lonely, I’m not stuck in the lab anymore! I can go where I want to, do what I want to do and talk…to who I want to.

Penny pauses and pulls out her scroll, looking back at Whitley’s text from the morning. In her quest to chase away from worries and get outside, she’d neglected to address the two people who’d been worrying for her. Though her relationship with Octavia had started as a quest for more information on her investigation Penny had quickly grown fond of the plucky girl from their first meeting and Esther had merely triggered her protective instincts but even after she still wanted to know more about her. They were bright spots in a very dark place, and they were still seeking her out. For what Penny couldn’t be 100 percent sure but leaving resolved would be irresponsible for a protector of the people like her. So with much consideration, Penny dials one of the numbers. A soft instrumental song plays in her ear for a few seconds before a familiar clear but delicate voice replies when the music fades.

Esther: Hello?

Penny smiles, eased at the sound of her green-haired friend’s voice.

Penny: Hello Esther! How are you today?

Esther: What-PENNY!

#fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwby #penny polendina #fanfiction #beta testers #whitley schnee #cute #angst #sorry it took a while #pietro polendina

8 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 2 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 10: City Lights Are for the Weak of Heart.

This was not how Whitley had planned on spend his Saturday night, dressed in formal wear in the limo with his father as they drove toward a high-end restaurant. None of this was out of the ordinary, he’d long since gotten used to being dragged places by his father without notice. What was odd was the fact they weren’t going there just to meet a business colleague, but rather a possible donator to Jaques’s campaign requested to meet for dinner and insisted Whitley be brought along. At the moment he truly had no idea why he’d be called out specifically as the man, Augustine Hexton, wasn’t much of an acquaintance to him or Jaques at all. All he knew was the man came from a long line of investors, was like a passive drug user, and had a teenage daughter around Whitley’s age with an ex-wife. Which ex-wife he didn’t know but that wasn’t important now. What was important was him being dragged to this dinner in the first place!

Racking his head for recollection of any and all correspondence Jacques could have with Hexton to lead to this, Whitley draws a blank. There was literally no explanation for him to be here that would necessitate his presence at this dinner. Whitley had been assigned no task, given no material to hold onto, or even business cards to hand out. Whitley wouldn’t and couldn’t ask his father, who currently had his head buried in his scroll, as that could easily lead to an argument, and he didn't need any of that right now. So, he chooses to sit in silence for the rest of the drive, hoping the answer will come when they arrive.

When the limo finally comes to a stop it’s parked in front of the most prestigious gastronomy restaurant Templar. Ran and owned by celebrity chef Don Impeccabile, an obvious pen name, the establishment prided itself on being the premier spot for experimental cuisine and fine dining. Emphasis on the experimental as the main feature of the restaurant was the artistic fare that populates the menu. 10-course meals costing tens of thousands of lien, made from the finest ingredients with flavor combinations beyond your wildest dreams.

Whitley had never been to this particular establishment yet and didn’t have the time, opportunity, or interest to go to. Experimental cuisine was not something Whitley found appealing in any way despite being a fan of the arts. Not out of a lack of appreciation for the craft or the creativity put into making the dishes he just didn’t like the idea of food, a necessity and one of the bases on which humanity built their cultures, being an art form.

Whitley: To take something and twist it until it’s unrecognized for purely aesthetic reasons is ridiculous. Especially if that twist ruins its fundamental purpose.

He critiques inwardly, unamused the notion of eating food prepared with looks and thought processes in mind instead of nutrition and flavor.

As they pull up in front of the restaurant Whitley notes the very modern exterior. The building was a parallelogram in shape with a slanted roof and sleek line pillars framing the clouded glass plating that covered at least two-thirds of it. The building itself was very monochromatic, everything was black, white, or gray aside from the same touches of greenery. It looked so expressionless and clean even with the hum of patrons entering and exiting, Whitley could feel his stomach shrivel at the dullness of it all.

However, he doesn’t get much time to lament his situation as the rear door opens Jacques quickly gets out of the limousine without a word, leaving his son to follow behind him. Walking in is met with the usual pointed and faux-polite smiles and stares from people they recognized from different functions or recognized them. Whitley keeps a straight face but as they enter the building, he can feel a grimace coming on as the inside is just as sterile and uncomfortable as the outside. The interior is minimalistic and monochromatic, the wait staff are dressed and styled so uniformly it’s hard to tell them apart. Even the smells that should be wafting in from the kitchen are halted by heavy metal doors cutting off the kitchen from the rest of the restaurant.

The only eye-catching feature he can see so far is the hostess staying at the podium with a digital reservation book. She was a tall woman of clear mixed heritage, her facial features being very much of Mistral origin, but her skin is a very dark brown to the point of being almost black and her hair and eyes were at very soft shade of baby blue. These features were highlighted by her dress, a simple cocktail dress with oil painting patterns on it, the colors highlighted by what looked to be dust. The colors pulsing through the fabric like a soft form of lightning serging through the fabric. Dust infused clothing was an uncommon style mainly used in custom pieces for huntsmen with specific semblances or in high fashion for couture as even when fitted properly this style was unavoidably uncomfortable for most due to the mechanics behind it. A fact Whitley only knew because of a certain designer who’d done business with the SDC for that exact reason.

Giving it a long glance it’s clear that was one of newer her pieces.

Whitley: Even surrounded by seriality her work still shines. Well done, Madam Da La Beau.

He muses internally as Jacques approaches the hostess’ stand. She recognized him immediately and wasted no time typing in the confirmation. Once confirmed she led them to their table on the second floor, an area being better furnished in comparison to the first floor. There was a koi pond running through the floor with lights illuminating the walking path around it. The tables were made of colorful glass and crystal and the wait staff were dressed in couture outfits themed around a variety of terrain and environments.

Whitley: So, this is the type of place to separate little fish from dolphins and whales. Explains the surface-level presentation.

He thought. Yes, even the city in the sky had its own class divide. In fact, it was far more stringent than anywhere else in the world. That was no clearer than in certain places of business, where VIP areas were common enough that whole areas had policies on who could and couldn’t enter without the proper vetting. Some did so based on prestige others on wealth but no matter where you went the red tape held its place.

And though the atmosphere change does ease Whitley’s mood a bit it plummets right back down when he sees their table. Sectioned off by the curve of the koi pond wrapped around like a moat with a small wooden bridge connecting the small island, the table itself was made from a large tree trunk with crystal embedded and shaped into the flattened surface to mimic the appearance of a tropical island landscape map.

But that’s not what bothering him.

No, it was the fact that Augustine Hexton was sitting at the table next to his daughter Seraphina. Seraphina, who mind you is only 16, was outfitted in a backless gold dress with a deep v-line that barely came halfway up her thigh, matching high heels, matching platform gold heels, eye-catching jewelry, and extremely heavy makeup. He makes eye contact with her, and she blows him a flirty kiss. Taking a breath to calm himself and deter the urge to vomit in his mouth, Whitley looks to Jacques for clarification, but the man just gives him a knowing nod, silently incentivizing him to move forward.

Thus, the real reason for the dinner became clear, Jacques wanted Hexton to back him, Hexton wanted something for his daughter Seraphina, and Seraphina wanted Whitley. So, he’d been brought there for a date with the desperate girl while the adults talk business.

Whitley: Don’t tell me…This bastard bartered my evening for a freakin campaign donation, didn’t he!

He cursed inwardly, fuming in his head while painting a courteous smile on his face. They walk over the bridge to the table where Hexton greets them.

Hexton: There are our homered guests!

Jacques: Augustine! So good to see you! Hope we didn’t keep you waiting long.

Hexton: Not at all, though my sweet Seraph was getting a little antsy. She’s been waiting for this dinner all week!

Whitley: A week? He had this planned for a full week and still chose to blind-sighted me!

He thinks bitterly, smile still painted on his face as the two businessmen converse.

Jacques: Oh, I understand what you mean, Whitley’s been just as eager. He’s been practically shaking with excitement.

Hexton: Really? That’s wonderful! Someone as regal and refined as your son showing such interest in my little angel.

Whitley: What interest?! The only reason I’m even here is because this son of a bitch agreed to pimp me out!

He mused while forcing himself not to glare dangers at his father. At this point, Whitley wanted to scream as their blabber was doing nothing more than furthering the misunderstanding. And unfortunately, it succeeds. Seraphina looked delighted by the notion of Whitley wanting to see her as her enamored almost lusty gaze on him intensified. This sends a cold shiver down his spine and his stomach into an aggressive backflip. Hexton eagerly urges them to sit down, motioning Jacques to a seat next to his at the end of the table leaving Whitley to occupy the only other chair. Which was placed at the opposite end of his father’s and directly beside Seraphina.

Seraphina: Hey there.

She greets Whitley as he sits down, her voice pitched down as if trying to sound seductive.

Whitley: Good evening. Pleasure to see you again, Seraphina.

Seraphina: Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine.

She states, underscored by a flirty giggle. Whitley keeps up his façade of calmness despite the uncomfortable chill up his spine.

Seraphina: You know, I’ve always dreamed of that day I get to spend some time one one-on-one time with you.

Whitley: Really now? My apologies if this hadn’t lived up to your fantasies.

Seraphina: Oh, don’t say that sweetie. Night’s still young, and we’ve got all of dinner to really get to know each other.

She stated with a flirtatious grin, reaching her hand over to touch his. The contact almost makes Whitley flinch, but he holds it together. Had this been a year ago Whitley would have just found this whole situation mildly annoying but bearable. However, that was before he knew what being loved and loving someone wholeheartedly was really like or how comfortable and soothing a date could be. Truly had this happened before Penny came into his life Whitley would have had no problem sitting through this forced date with little more than a mild headache. But it wasn’t and alongside the nausea induced by Seraphina’s flirting, Whitley also had to sit with a knot of guilt in his stomach.

He shouldn’t be here, dressed well in a nice restaurant about to have dinner with a girl he hardly knew. If anything, the only reason he’d ever want to be here was if Penny wanted to try this experimental cuisine! It would have been a great excuse to get her dressed up to the nines and watch her react to the scenery change as they come upstairs.

Whitley: She’d probably get distracted by the koi before we can get to our table.

He thought while politely engaging with Seraphina in small talk, the idea of his adorable girlfriend acting in her usual quirky way gave him some peace of mind. While Seraphina probes him for personal information and tries to inch closer to him Whitley puts up a mental wall. Every time she makes him feel uncomfortable, he imagines what a date there with Penny would be like. He doesn’t let his thoughts wander enough to lose track of the conversation but it’s still at the back of his mind. Like a counterbalance keeping his sanity together so he doesn’t go mad at the thought of being on a date with someone other than his beloved.

This continues until a waiter dressed in an island biome-themed attire approaches the table with menus in hand. He bows before them, the feathers of his tropical bird-themed headdress riffing with his movements as he begins the opening of their performative meal.

Rodrick: Good evening, everyone my name is Rodrick, and I will be your guide on tonight’s culinary adventure.

He declares, voice calm and theatrical with all the forced enthusiasm of a theatre major trying to seem cultured to boost up the tip he needs to cover rent this month.

Rodrick: Tonight's voyage will be an eight-course track with stops along the coastal plane.

He motions towards the table with a swiping wave of his hand.

Rodrick: We’ll start our journey here-

He points to the beach on the map.

Rodrick: -with the bounty of the sea salad.

He exclaims before handing out the course menus and retreating to the kitchen to fetch their first course. Upon return, the table is presented with a small salad made of sea vegetation. A palm full of multi-colored seaweed, various types of algae, kelp, and hijiki arranged beautifully, well-seasoned, and topped with balsamic vinegar. However, the presentation is slightly deceiving as the first bite Whitley takes is overwhelmed by the taste one would most likely expect from a salad constructed of such ingredients.

Whitley: So salty!

Yes, the dish was overpowered by its sea salt flavor, the seasoning, and vinegar doing very little to defuse the taste as it was thoroughly woven into each vegetable. This becomes a theme of the meal as each course looks appealing while its flavor draws heavily from the most natural forms of its ingredients. The next course, soup cooked in the shell of a large crab, utilizes all the edible pieces of the creature but the mixed and matched texture of the muscles to innards paired with the light broth makes it a hard-to-swallow. The next is bread buns with a nut butter sauce, the sauce is grainy with many layers of flavors drowning out the soft flavor of the bread. After is the prawn pasta with red sauce, the sauce being fruit based bringing an uncomfortably sweet taste to the little morsels.

By the time they’re halfway through the dinner, Whitley is mentally exhausted and starving. He hadn’t had much to eat the day and the portion of this dinner had been so small and tasted so unappealing that he’d barely managed to finish his plate out of courtesy. Making matters worse, Seraphina was still flirting with him at every opportunity as their fathers ignored them to talk over the donation. She had tried to chat with him, playfully poke him, feed him bits off her plate, and at the moment was making an attempt at footsie.

Feeling her feet try and caress his leg was his breaking point. Whitley stands up, shaking off his unwanted dinner companion’s advances, and turns his and her father’s attention to him.

Whitley: Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom.

He states, looking at his father for an approving glance of permission. Jacques sighs and rolls his eyes before motioning Whitley to go ahead. The young man wastes no time in leaving the table and striding off to find the lavatory. He doesn’t actually need to go but staying there any longer was going to drive him insane! Seraphina’d constant touching had made him disgusted and her trying to play footsie with him was the last straw!

Had he stayed seated he would have kicked her leg away and told her something about herself she most certainly didn’t want to hear. But he couldn’t. This dinner was important to his father and Whitley would have hell to pay if made a scene or ruined it in any way. So, he removed himself from the situation to get his head in order.

Whitley: Just take a few minutes to breathe then go back.

He tells himself as he finds the men’s bathroom. He opens the door to find a very clean and modern-looking bathroom. The stalls for the toilets are all their own small room, the sinks are well stocked with soaps and very clean, and the mirror above them spans across the entire back wall with lights around the border illuminating it. With the door up Whitley can see what’s behind him in the mirror and he catches sight of Seraphina approaching.

Whitley: Seriously!

He bemoans before rushing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him, pressing his back against it to keep it shut! This was bad, very very bad! That girl had already been a hassle to deal with in front of her father but now she was being so bold as to come after him like this! Whitley feels a pull on the handle but holds firm. Gods knows what Seraphina will do if she gets him alone but Whitley can only hold out for so long! The door would be opened again one way or another. Eventually, someone would either need to use the restroom or leave it, giving the ravenous girl an opening.

Whitley: There’s gotta be a way out of this! Think Whitley think!

He racks his brain for any scenario that might get him out of this unsaved as Seraphina continues to tug at the door handle. But the sound of a flushing toilet breaks his concentration.

Whitley: Crap!

He swears internally, time was running out fast and he probably had less than two minutes to figure a way out of this. But there is none, right now his only options were to face Seraphina and pray he could peacefully talk his way around her or tell her off then and there. The latter was very the most dangerous to him but Whitley couldn’t help but find it more desirable than Seraphina’s incessant flirting had driven him crazy. But the repercussions of that would be catastrophic for him.

Whitley: If I give her a piece of my mind Father will-

Whitley feels a stinging pain in both of his biceps, a burning flare of warning to what the choice will gain him. Still, he couldn't just let this girl have her way with him, if not for his own sake then for Penny’s! She’d be so upset if something were to happen to him and he couldn’t cause her that kind of grief.

Whitley: What the hell do I do?!

He bemoans, his anxiety growing with the sound of rushing water trickling down. The man who emerged from the stall had just finished washing his hands and was about to dry them giving Whitley only a few seconds to act.

Whitley: Damn it!

Knowing he’s out of time, Whitley releases his hold on the door and backs up. But instead of looking defeated, his eyes are full of cold fury. The air of elegant calmness was gone and an atmosphere of pure annoyance and disregard took its place.

Whitley: Fine, if it’s going to be like this then I’ll just let her down easy. And if she won’t take no for an answer, I’ll just have to make her.

He thought, heart fully determined. Despite the punishment Whitley would face after he could not bring himself to knowingly allow this girl to take advantage of him nor betray Penny in the process! He waits for the inevitable, ready to face this head-on! The man at the sink finished drying his hands and walks past him to leave Whitley, opening the door. Behind it, Whitley finds Seraphina not standing in wait and ready to pounce on him but chatting with Octavia and Esther! Shocked but very much relieved Whitley rushes back into the bathroom before anyone catches sight of him. Given a second wind, he takes a moment to clear his head and dust himself off, specifically anywhere Seraphina had touched him. Once he’s cleaned up, washing his hands for effect, Whitley exits the bathroom and Esther is the first to spot him. She stealthily leaves the conversation while Octavia keeps her distracted. She rushes over with a huff and pulls Whitley over to a corner to talk.

Esther: What the hell are you doing here?!

She whispers yells at him, breaking completely from her usual shy self with her rough tone.

Whitley: I’m here for dinner with my father-

Esther: No! I meant with her!

Whitley: Our fathers are colleagues and thought it be good if we got to know each other.

He states, calm and sensible as his usual persona returns. Esther doesn’t seem to calm down at all, instead, her face begins to glow red with frustration.

Esther: I can’t believe you're doing to Penny; I thought you two had something.

She whispered under her breath, voice teaming with anger and disappointment. This catches Whitley completely off guard and his mask slips for a moment.

Whitley: Excuse me?

He asks her as if lightly daring her to repeat the statement.

Esther: I mean, everyone knows what type of girl Seraphina is so how could-

Esther paused and her face goes from red to pale as she finally noticed the eerie glint in Whitley’s eyes, the bitterness, and anger in them burning deep as he peered into her soul. It’s too much for a wallflower like Esther and she adverts her gaze. Whitley sighs and proceeds to clarify the situation.

Whitley: Ms. Hellebore, or rather Esther, I believe you’ve misunderstood something. I am here because my father brought me here for dinner, Seraphina is here because her father brought her, and they decided to have this meal together at the same table. Nothing more.

Esther listens intently, she calms down as reads through the lines and realizes Whitley is mostly likely here for the same reason Esther herself went to most social events, because one or both parents made her.

Esther: …oh.

Whitley nods in confirmation and looks over his shoulder to make sure Seraphina is still distracted and continues.

Whitley: As for my relationship with Ms. Polendina that’s a private matter.

Esther: I see.

Esther keeps her gaze down, convinced but saddened that her show of courage was for nothing. Sensing her vulnerability, Whitley takes it as an opportunity to turn his night around and give Penny a special surprise.

Whitley: I know you have some strong attachments given what she’s done for you.

Esther nods in the affirmative.

Whitley: It must have been for you to lose touch with such a kind companion so soon after meeting her. But…

Esther: But?

Whitley smirks, this was too easy.

Whitley: But maybe it doesn’t have to be that. I mean you do have a third-party contact that easily reconnect you with her. That is if you’re willing to help the middleman.

Esther looks up to meet his gaze with surprised interest and is met with Whitley’s trademark business smile.

Esther: What do you want?

The two converse quickly and quietly before reconvening with Octavia and Seraphina. Esther whispers the details to Octavia as Seraphina resumes fawning over Whitley. By the time Whitley and Seraphina make it back to the table, they are accompanied by two guests much to the bewilderment of their fathers. The two explain that they had run into Whitley and Seraphina on their way to their table.

Esther: My parents double-booked their evening and didn’t want to cancel the reservation so let me have it to take a friend out.

Esther explained before doing as Whitley had instructed and brought up her father’s interest in politics.

Esther: I think he was a bit frazzled from looking into council candidates when he booked the reservation and forgot about their other appointment.

This sparks Jacques's interest, and Octavia quickly echoes a similar sentiment for her parents and naïvely asks if any of the candidates are nice. From there the rest of the evening is spent on the meal while Jacques spouts his self-serving propaganda, overtaking the conversation so much that Seraphina goes quiet. Her vapid brain can’t stand the non-stop talk of political matters and tunes it out to protect itself.

By night’s end, Jaques has secured another donation and possible appeals to four prospective donors, and Whitley makes it out of the night unscathed!

As Jacques bids Hexton goodbye while confirming his bank details for the transaction, Whitley wraps things up with Octavia and Esther.

Octavia: Okay, we did our part now you have to hold up your end of the bargain!

Esther: Yeah, we sat through that thing so do what you promised!

They press, determined to get their just reward. Whitley smiles at their convection, proud to see that his beloved had found such jewels of friends in this morally bankrupt city.

Whitley: Yes, yes, I know, and don't worry. I’ll pass along the message in the morning and if she agrees you’ll be heading back from her soon. Good night.

He waves them off as strides back to the family limousine to go home. The night hasn’t gone anything like Whitley thought it would nor had he handled it in a way he’d ever imagined to before. It was strange but emboldening, finding a way around his father’s antics and conspiring with people who had truly good intentions for a change. It was risky and outrageous to a degree, yet he couldn’t stop himself from trying.

The why of it was simple, he was just too in love to be swayed or browbeaten into giving in. A strength he never knew he had but used on instinct when that love was challenged. Sure, he was tired, hungry, and beyond annoyed but none of that truly mattered. He had one principle to hold onto tonight and he’d upheld it despite everything.

Maybe this love had driven him mad or just gave him a good reason to be braver than before. Regardless Whitley held his head up high as Jacques finally returned to his seat in the limousine and they set off for home.

Though the ride may be quiet Whitley’s mind is racing, pride at his successful scheming, formulating strategies on how to avoid overly eager admirers, even bits of music swimming around in the chaos. But the most prominent in this sea of thought was how much he’d have to say on tomorrow morning's call.

Whitley: I can’t wait to see the look on her face.

#fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwby #fanfiction #beta testers #whitley schnee #angst #sorry it took a while #jaques schnee

3 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 4 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between Shadows

Chapter 9: Mommy Meltdown

The warm rays of the sun peek through the windows, thin strains of light softly illuminating the room in patches as Willow lay sleeping in her bed. Turned over on her side with her comforter pulled down to right below her shoulders. The aristocratic woman is in a deep slumber though it’s far past daybreak, her body heavy in the sheets as it sinks into the mattress like a stone thrown into the sea. Even the sound of her bedroom door opening and her personal maid Mary entering does nothing to stir the unfortunate lady from her rest. She enters with a food cart, carrying a tray table, Willow’s breakfast, and her daily surplus of alcoholic beverages. Mary walks up to her bedside, carefully observing her charge’s physical condition to ensure her vitals are in their usual state. Checking Willow’s pulse then her temperature and finally opening her mouth to check for her breathing and look for any signs of blockage such as vomit. Luckily her airway is clear, and her breathing is normal thus Mary can commence with the final step of rubbing Willow’s temple to wake her. The motion makes her stir and after several minutes Willow awakes to a sight, she’s gotten all too familiar with, Mary standing over her with a look of indifference on her face.

Mary: Good morning, Mistress Willow.

She says, voice pleasant but impersonal like the chime of a singing greeting card or public service reminder. Still, it was nowhere near the worst wake-up call she could have.

Willow: What time is it?

She asks, sitting up and rubbing her head as the usual pain flooded in. A gentle massage to wake her followed by the sting of a hangover to keep her up was just the way Willow found herself every day.

Mary: 10:14 am, it’s sunny with a chance of high winds and snow in the evening. Master has already departed for the day and Young Master has begun his daily studies.

Willow yawns, stretching out a bit to chase away the rest of her tiredness.

Willow: Has he eaten yet?

Mary: Of course, Mistress.

Willow: Was it enough?

Mary: You know the answer to that, Mistress.

Willow sighs, resignation and self-hatred looming over her head with a quickness that lightning bolts seem slow.

Willow: I know. I was just….

She sighs again, taking off her bonnet and running her hands through her silk-white hair.

Willow: I need a drink.

Mary: Your breakfast and morning bloody mary will be served to you after you freshen up.

Willow raises an eyebrow, annoyed at the denial of her much-needed beverage.

Willow: Really Mary?

Mary: I’m simply following orders and your doctor’s recommendation.

Willow: Good lord, when did I get old enough to need this much bedside manner?

She grumbles before getting out of bed, throwing on a long flowing, elegant fur-trimmed robe over her matching long periwinkle thin strapped nightgown and sliding on her satin slippers. The soft color making her soft pearly skin appear soft and fragile like a ceramic bust. Raising to her full height Willow was tall for a woman, just like her eldest daughter, standing almost a full head taller than Mary. Her stature however did not detract from her beauty, her voluptuous figure lending to her ethereal beauty.

But that’s what Willow was and had always been.

Despite her age, multiple pregnancies, depression, sham marriage, seemingly never-ending grief, and lush lifestyle Willow remained beautiful. She’d been a lovely infant, an adorable child, a gorgeous teen, a ravishing woman, and a beautiful mother. Even in her despair, she appeared more like a morose art fixture, not a person drowning in the suffering of herself, her children, and the legacy her father left behind. It was this beauty and the pure luck of being born to a man such as Nichols Schnee that enabled her to live as she had thus far. The Queen of high society, a beauty only found once in a millennium now a recluse who really showed her face in public. As she strides over to her en-suite bathroom Willow’s strides are graceful, slippers hitting the floor without so much as a tiny squeak. She washes her face, exfoliates, and lotions her skin before brushing her teeth and combing her hair, all tasks a woman of her wealth could have others do for her, but Willow was too proud to even think of it.

She was pampered but not so much to be even think of being babied. She wouldn’t dream of being so useless regardless of her other issues, Willow had been raised too strong to let herself be coddled into that kind of sloth.

She exits the bathroom with a clay face mask on and walks toward her balcony. It was a small one in comparison to the others around the manor but that was what Willow enjoyed about it. With just enough room for a small round table and chair, she could sit outside in the cool air, read, and drink as music from her vintage record player drifts in from its spot by the balcony doors. She sits down, letting to wind kiss her skin as the mask does its magic on. After a good ten minutes, she gets up to go back inside only to find Mary standing at the doors waiting for her.

Willow: Really Mary?!

Mary: Young Master insisted that you not be alone near hazardous areas. For your own safety.

Willow sighs and goes back inside without a fuss, Mary holding the door open from her. After removing the face mask, Willow sits on her bed and is served breakfast. A hearty meal of honeyed oatmeal, frittata, and a side of chopped strawberries. Still on the cart was her morning bloody Mary, which she’d have to finish her breakfast to get to.

Taking a whiff of her meal, Willow couldn’t deny that smelled and looked appealing but her appetite for food was simply not great enough to enjoy eating it. Not that her body wasn’t pleading for it, her stomach grumbling lowly as a knot of emptiness in it tightened, Willow just couldn’t muster the desire to eat. Knowing her temperament Mary takes the drink from the tray and stands close to Willow’s bedside. She keeps the beverage right at the edge of her mistress’s peripheral vision but far enough that it’s just out of arm’s reach. The sight hits just the right notes of Willow’s habit, her mouth feeling terribly dry and her tongue flickering against her lips as if begging for a taste. Knowing she wouldn’t get her desired nectar on an empty stomach Willow eats. Slowly, hardly tasting anything, she finishes everything on her plate at a graceful pace.

When she’s done Willow looks to Mary for her well-earned drink, only for her to present the woman with a handful of pills. Her daily medication.

Hoodwinked but at Mary’s mercy Willow takes her medicine dry, huffily gulping them down a few at a time with a grimace on her face. Pouting like a child who just sucked on a lemon. Mary ignores her attitude and nods approvingly before finally rewarding her mistress with her first taste of alcohol for the day. The bloody mary is smooth but spicy, the tingle from the vodka and sauce waking her up. The taste of the fresh tomato and lemon juice is nice and refreshing like a soft summer breeze.

Just like that much of her gloominess vanishes as she sips the rest of her drink. Her headache dissipated and Willow started feeling in a standard mood. With her morning routine completed the rest of the day was Willow’s to do with as she pleased. She had no true responsibilities outside of appearing at certain events and that was only when she truly wanted to. Those were contained to a select few holidays, some events established by her father, and her children's birthday parties.

Gods the children, they were the only thing keeping Willow alive after that bastard finally admitted to tricking her. The only reason she hadn’t hung herself that nice was because it was Weiss’s birthday, and she couldn’t end her life on the same day she’d brought a life into the world. And even after that, every time she felt the urge to end it all one of them had done something to make her want to stay even if it was just for another day.

She’d think of slitting her throat with her father’s sword and she would find Winter training with it in secret. She’d think of hanging herself in the dance studio only to find Weiss practicing her ballet. Tried to jump off the balcony in the ballroom but stopping when she heard Whitley playing a song on one of her pianos. A tune she’d played for him when he was so small, she doubted that he could have remembered it but had known it by heart years later. Truly her children were her lifeline and knowing the pain of losing a mother far too soon Willow, no matter how broken she’s become, could not bring herself to die while her children still struggled.

However, this was a double-edged sword.

Willow: Mary.

She calls, the maid looking at her with her neutral gaze.

Willow: I want to go for a walk.

She states, Mary nods in agreement and goes to fetch Willow something to wear. Now the process of dressing Willow for the day was critical in judging how the day would progress. Her most common outfit was a long dark blue pencil skirt, ruffled shirt, and purple with black tights and heels. But that was not all she had in her wardrobe.

The snow-haired woman had once been known as the Queen of high society and had the appeal to match. Many designer gowns, some one-offs made specifically for her, clothing of the highest quality, and more accessories than most would see in a lifetime. Most of her more delicate pieces were kept elsewhere but her everyday wear and her jewelry stayed in her room. This catalog of clothing could act as a mood and intent indicator as Willow would dress to do what she wanted, regardless of whether she knew she was going to do it or not.

For instance, her most common outfit was meant for walks in the garden and reading in her library as she day drinks. A stark white long-sleeved blouse, dark purple waist corset, and black pants were for taking up her old sword and practicing her swing on pictures of Jaques. And her periwinkle gown with matching shawl and silver accessories was for dancing about drunkenly in the ballroom when her treacherous husband was away.

The latter two were much more rare to see as the years went on, her outrage and burst of almost hysterical jelly slowing down as the depression set in. Mary had also done her best to keep this little shift under wraps to prevent any unfortunate incidents between the unhappily married couple. Doubly so when Penny was around but now that Jaques was out more frequently, and classes had ended the chances of these outbursts occurring had risen greatly. There still hasn’t been one thus far but Mary knew better than to be optimistic in this house. It was only a matter of time.

Pulling out Willow’s usual ensemble Mary is about to carry it over to the bed.

Willow: Wait, I want my satin gown.

She insists. Mary doesn't react and returns the clothing back to the closet before retrieving Willow’s requested outfit. It’s a long strapless mermaid dress with a long slit up the right leg, the bodice decorated in sliver embroidery of the Schnee family crest recontextualized as a glittering pattern. With it is a matching shawl, a pair of white opera gloves, and a silver jewelry set. A pair of silver shoes with periwinkle gems encrusted into the design which matched the dress. This was a custom-made gift from a dear friend who had made many of Willow’s special outfits. They were still in touch though not often and Willow would periodically receive a gift from here as a sort of care package. This was one of her favorites. Mary hands the garments over to her mistress who accepts them with a low hum of approval.

Given its construction, Mary has to help Willow zip the dress up once it’s on. After that Willow has no problem putting on the rest while Mary prepares her makeup and hair care products. When she is fully dressed Mary does her makeup and puts her hair in an updo to accommodate the matching snowflake hairpin needed to complete the look. Once everything was done Willow looked in the mirror, her pale lips were painted lilac with a black liner outlying her lips, her cheeks rosy from a touch of soft blush and her eyes appeared to shimmer from her bold silver-dusted smoke eye makeup. Though no makeup could the coldness in them, the aura of death and regret was too deep to be hidden under even the deepest layer of luxury.

Still, Willow could look at herself with a little less self-pity like this. Twirling in her dress, pretending for a moment that she was still the great flower she once was and not the withering fool she’d become. After a few long glances, she looks back at Mary with a pitiful smile.

Willow: I want to go to the garden first, to greet the flowers.

Mary: Yes, ma’am.

Soon they depart. Mary leaves the food cart behind beside the door for another maid to pick up and carries the wine bottles and glasses with her as they walk. Striding down the halls every staff member they pass gazes at Willow with either silent awe or horror before quickly getting out of the way. The entirety of the staff manning the Schnee household knew to stay far away from Willow for their safety and hers. The madam of the house was an unfortunate figure, there was no one who didn’t know of her miserable situation but that hardly outweighed the emotional time bomb Willow existed as. She could start weeping then turn to shouting if her mood flipped, usually because Jacques had done something to provoke her ire. If not that then it was the depressing air around her sapping the sanity of anyone who came too close. Even now dressed in her finest her presence was painful draining.

Regardless the staff still treated her with the reverence her position demanded. Butlers hold open the doors to the garden and gardeners clear any brush from the paths as Willow strides past the rows of flora and fauna. Under the light of midday, Willow stopped to smell the flowers and ran her free hand against petals and leaves while her other held her perpetually full wine glass. This was one of her few safe places in the manor, the safest in fact due to Jacques's distaste for the loveliness of nature.

His disinterest had perplexed her back when their courtship began but Willow disregarded it as a personal preference. No couple had everything in common, even her parents had their differences, and that was hardly anything to consider about. Looking back Willow kicks herself for not looking deeper and questioning the holes in his personality sooner but it was far too late for that. Though her marriage be nothing more than a successful con crafted by a heartless leech, Willow still had her garden. A precious gift from her father and she'd enjoy it for as long as she pleased.

As she frolics, Willow stumbles upon a familiar gazebo, one that held many memories. She’d sat there with each of her children as infants after walking them through the greenery to introduce them to the wonders of nature. This is where she taught them the basics of tea parties and being a proper host, less serious etiquette lessons more of relaxed pretend play to practice. And around Mother’s Day, so long ago, her lovely children would pick flowers to make her bouquets. Yes, there were many good memories both for her as someone’s child and as someone’s mother.

She sits down and as she continues letting her mind wander down memory lane the happy thoughts soon end as the most recent of them turn grim. That being the last time she’d seen her son in the garden, tears falling down his cheeks and eyes hollow. Willow clenches her glass, a shiver of sorrow and disappointment running down her back. She could hardly remember that moment, but the vision of her son face was still clear as day. That haunting emptiness in his gaze was too much to bear. Her baby boy, her little flower Whitley was rotting, dying in front of her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. At the time she didn’t even know what or why he’d fallen apart that way but just seeing broke her heart in ways she didn’t know it could anymore. All she could do in moment was apologize, for everything and anything. She knew she was too weak to protect her children as she should have and her words were all she could offer, empty as they may be.

It was much later that she’d learned of their routine military visitor, the redhead girl she’d seen in the halls once some time ago, from Mary. She had given many details but from what she could gather the girl was pleasant and kind and her son had greatly enjoyed her company. But that had ended, no doubt Jaques had a hand in it, and that had shattered something in Whitley like nothing had before.

And why wouldn’t it?

Willow could tell from how he wept that being with the girl had made Whitley happy so much so much so that the absence of her stole all the light he had left. At least for a moment. And Willow knew that sorrow she felt creeping in from Jaques for so long until finally, the mask fell, and the love she knew was revealed as nothing but a farce. Yes, Willow knew that agony well, and seeing it in her son was like looking into a mirror. She couldn’t face that misery and broke down leaving Whitley to pick up the pieces even in his fragile state. That was the other edge of Willow's continued living for her children’s sake, her pain had become their burden.

Tears form on the edges of her eyes and not wanting to cry in her good dress, Willow downs her wine in one gulp and stands up.

Willow: I’m going to the ballroom; I want to dance under warm lights.

Mary: Yes, Mistress.

Mary agrees, filling Willow’s glass to the brim when she holds it out to her. After she takes a generous sipe they leave the garden and March towards the ballroom. The grand ballroom was always a gorgeous sight even when vacant of parties or revelry. Cleaned so often that the floors would always appear glimmering under light. Willow saunters around the room and onto the dance floor, finishing her 7th or maybe 8th glass of wine, she’d long since stopped keeping track, and hands the empty cup to Mary before issuing another decree.

Willow: I’d like some music, something cheerful and bouncy.

Mary: of course, ma’am.

Mary walks off to go explore the stereo system for appropriate music, but not before leaving a bottle of red wine and a glass behind to keep Willow busy. She gets a third of the way through the bottle when a soft orchestra melody comes pouring into the room. Willow sways to the beat, sipping away at her glass as the music plays. When her glass is once again empty Willow sets it down and begins to dance as Mary re-enters the room. The maid watches as her charge begins doing what she can only describe as a one-person waltz. Willow twirls and strides around the floor with grace and poise, the color of her gown making her movements appear whimsical. Like a butterfly fluttering against the wind, free of all humanity’s coils and unburdened by anything but its own machinations.

Ah, how glamorous. Once upon a time, Willow Schnee was always this brilliant. Basking in a seemingly endless dream.

Until she woke up.

The cackling came first, starting as soft as a whisper before getting louder and louder as Willow’s steps became erratic. Her elegant movements turn into a wobbly dance as she thrashes about, almost throwing her body around carelessly. Her mind is both muggy and racing as the alcohol and her resentment take effect.

Willow: What a waste of a life, I could have been working the happiest woman in the world. I had everything anyone could want or need and more. And yet…yet I’ve become this.

Her mind spirals as her self-deprecation bubbles up to the surface once more, this time in full bloom. She throws her head back as laughing becomes hysterical, mascara runs down her cheeks as the tears finally fall. Her becomes undone, hairpin clipping on for dear life as the mass around it unravels like its wearer’s mind.

Yet she continued to dance.

A meltdown in motion so caught up in herself that she doesn't see the passing staff members' looks of horror or notice when someone walks within her vicinity, keeping enough distance not to crash into her but close enough to be a flicker at the edge of her vision. That is until she trips over the glass she left on the floor, getting caught in the space between the shank and heel of her pumps. Crushing the glass as she stumbles, sending her towards the floor. The loss of balance and rush of air brings Willow back to reality and she braces herself for a hard fall, but she never hits the ground. Instead, she finds herself being held by thin but strong arms, face pressed against royal blue fabric. Looking up she sees Whitley, holding her tight in his arms and one leg kneeling directly on broken glass and the other keeping them steady.

Whitley: Are you alright, Mother?

He asks, voice soft and even as if he hadn’t just witnessed his mother drunkenly fall over. Willow nods yes.

Whitley: Good.

He chimes before pulling her back onto her feet, sweeping off any stray shards that might have hit her and checking to see if she’s cut. Luckily none had gotten on her and Willow was unharmed.

Whitley: Call someone to clean this up, we need to take her back to her room.

He orders Mary who stands directly behind him. She walks away to seek assistance with the mess and Whitley turns back to his mother.

Whitley: You should really be more careful. Leaving glass around like this is a recipe for disaster. Especially with how you dance.

He says with a chuckle, jokingly scolding Willow for her clumsy mistake. From there he guides her back to her room, Mary meeting them halfway. Mary cleans up her face while Whitley heads off to the kitchen to get her something to put on her stomach. He returns with a maid wheeling in a newly stocked food cart with a basket of bread, creamy soup, fried chicken coated in tomato sauce, and warm ginger ale.

Whitley: Make sure she eats as much as possible and gets some rest before she drinks again. Report back to me if her condition worsens.

The maids reply with a simple, “Yes, Young Master,” and Whitley leaves. They tend to a now calm Willow who doesn’t fight them on it.

If living for her child was a truly double-edged sword, this was the sharpest point. Her youngest, her only son Whitley had taken to caring for her in his father’s place so much so that he’d be the one train and warn much of the staff on her ailments and outbursts. Frankly, his continued care was the greatest factor in keeping Willow as well as she was.

But that only fueled her guilt.

Knowing her minor son had to cater to her needs and treat her with the patience and care his father refused to was and is profoundly demoralizing for her. Despite everything she was and could have been Willow has become a ward to the person she should have been able to protect. But she couldn’t…No, she didn’t. Willow had shut down in the wake of her life shattering and her children were left to pick up whatever pieces they could, even if they cut them deep.

And as she lay down for her daily nap, Willow couldn't help but crave another sip. To drown out her suffering and wash away the memories of what a pathetic excuse for a mother she’s been.

#fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwby #fanfiction #willow schnee #rwby whitley #rwby willow #whitley schnee #angst #super depressing #like you might need a drink for this

7 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 4 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between Shadows

Chapter 8: Worrying Winter.

The sun basks through her window, Winter has been awake long before it rose today. Her hair was down from its usual bun, and she’d still dressed in her military-issue nightwear. As per her normal routine, she starts her day with morning calisthenics. First stretches, then setup, next push-up, then a full ten minutes of planking before she’s ready for her morning shower. The water is hot, almost boiling as she lets the shower run until the heat is consistent. Once it is Winter strips and enters the shower, her well-endowed figure glistening as the water rains down on her. Despite her occupation, Winter’s body holds few scars from her many dangerous ventures as a huntswoman and soldier. Even the most notable of them seemed almost craved into her precious skin, like dull cracks in marble. Her hands glide over every inch of her body with a firm but careful touch. Her hair is washed with equal attention, the white silky strands hold no knots or tingles after her thorough cleaning.

After twenty minutes of washing Winter turns off the water and wraps a towel around herself. While still damp she begins her extensive skincare routine, exfoliating then a facial wash, and finally moisturizing both her face and body. Next, she gingerly dries her hair but putting it up in her signature bun. Clean and manicured she steps out of her bathroom in a white towel, it’s time to get dressed. Retrieving and dawning the set of undergarments from her dresser she dresses herself in her usual military regalia. Clean dressed and presentable Winter checks herself in the mirror, her face devoid of any emotion as she inspects her appearance. She is a vision of both beauty and elegance with a surly atmosphere around her that exemplifies her immense fighting prowess. From a glance, anyone who gazed at her would know she was not someone to trifle with. And very few in any kingdom she set foot in disagreed, most who did were easily proven wrong.

Except for…certain individuals. But the less said about that drunken scythe-welding bastard the better.

Though she stares, a quiet feeling of dread seeps into her. This habit of waking up early to care for her appearance was something that far predated her military service. This need to meet some unspoken expectation of perfection daily had been a ritual she’d performed since childhood, ingrained into her very being from years of high expectations. The years spent in high society, years spent under the public eye at all times, forced to be presentable and impeccable in every way at all times.

Years spent under his rule.

Even though she had grown far too old he ordered around and far too strong to be frightened into submission as she had been in her youth still Winter couldn’t help but retain some of her father’s teachings. Some days it was minimal, just a whisper in the back of her head that faded in seconds. Others it was a roaring, a screaming wave of horrid memories she did her best to bury but somehow always resurfaced.

Sometimes she could hear his voice.

Jacques: Put on a dress, those pants make your legs look lumpy and manish!

Jacques: Straighten up your back! You look like a slob hunching like that!

Jacques: Hunting?! How dare you even think of wasting my time with such savagery!

Jacques: PUT THAT SWORD AWAY! YOU HAVE NO USE FOR SUCH BARBARIC THINGS!

It was a painful screeching in her ears, rippling over every insecurity and fear she held deep in her heart. Looking into her own eyes in the mirror, Winter sees them dilate and her breath quickens, frustrated she turns away from her reflection and reaches for her sword. She holds the blade close to her chest as she desperately tries to even out her breathing. Clutching the hilt tightly, she runs her hands over it in an amateurish manner. They moved as if being guided to hold the blade properly, almost like a child being taught for the first time. She closes her eyes and tries to focus on the feel of the metal and soon the phantom touch of a hand calms her mind.

This position, this was where her hands were when her grandfather taught her how to use her semblance. He guided her hands into place and held them tight as she attempted to use her semblance, smiling and whispering words of encouragement throughout. Winter had never felt more secure than she did with her grandfather and even though she never had the courage to tell him of what was happening in their home before he passed his memory still brought her peace.

Gods, she missed him.

They all did. There wasn’t a single person without tears running down their face at his funeral.

Except for the man who got everything he wanted when that gracious man died.

But that’s why she must never forget, never let the malice burning in her die out only simmer. It gave her purpose, a reason to remain strong and levelheaded no matter what.

Calmed, Winter rises to her feet and secures her sword to the clip on her hip. She grabs and pockets her scroll, ID card, and wallet before departing her room for the canteen.

As she approached the cafeteria, bustling with the hum of many students, huntsmen, and soldiers, the stares of others followed. Her presence drops loud chatter to soft whispers if not completely silencing it. Such was the atmosphere such an elite soldier, being the general’s most trusted commander, it was only natural that most felt intimidated by the very sight of Winter.

Winter: As it should be.

She thought, looking around as she grabbed a tray and joined the mess line. It doesn’t take long for her to get to the front as her presence seems to push the others to pick out their breakfast quickly and move on as fast as possible. Once in front, she requests a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast with a side salad along with a bowl of oatmeal with fruit and a cup of black tea. After retrieving her breakfast Winter sits alone to eat, no one approaching her as she begins to eat but still eyeing her. She eats elegantly but quickly, eating a normal portion for a huntress but with such grace, it’s hard to imagine that she actually eating that much food.

When she takes a sip of her tea, she has to stifle a grimace as the flavor hits her tongue.

Winter: Ugh, they forgot to prep-check the temperature of the water again.

She grumbled inwardly as she continued to drink. Being of a wealthy background Winter was well versed in the art of tea making, much in due to her mother’s past pension for tea parties. She knew the ends and outs of what makes a good cup of tea, to the point she could taste even the slightest of flaws in any batch she drank. And this one had the simplest of beginner's mistakes, the water was boiled incorrectly. It was boiled similarly to water for the coffee, but the two drinks had different preferred temperatures for their respective flavors. The difference was too subtle for anyone but the most advert tea drinker or a tea aficionado such as herself to note so Winter ops to keep it herself and finishes her tea without outward complaint.

Once she’s done Winter cleans up her table, puts her dirty tray with the others, and goes about her usual duties. As one of Ironwood’s most trusted soldiers, when not engaged in overseas missions or combat Winter was charged with overseeing the operations of the academy and the military at large. Checking in on the status of training huntsmen, and on the current missions of soldiers around the two cities were her main tasks. It was nothing glamorous, just comparing class grades across semesters and checking in with active soldiers to make sure they were doing their jobs correctly. It mostly calls and paperwork, as she sits at her desk in her office. Very few people even knew Winter had her own office since she mostly did in-person business outside or with the general, but she honestly preferred it that way. It gave her a space to think clearly while she got things done.

She spends hours working, focusing on her task to prevent the inevitable boredom from creeping down on her. Her role had been much more active before the fall of Beacon but now with the borders closed and preparations being made for…. the inescapable evil that was slowly approaching she was left rather sedentary. She never complained about the change but that didn’t mean she didn’t have an opinion on it.

Especially since upon her return from Mistral, she was greeted with several pieces of extremely stressful news. First, that they were going to be faced with a world-destroying threat that had been dormant for years. Second, Penny Polendina was alive and well after what most would have thought to be a fatal dismembering. Third, her younger sister Weiss had run away from home, and somehow out of the kingdom without detection. And finally, because of the looming threat, she was to begin some specialized training to become the next winter maiden.

Despite her taking it well at the moment, Winter did not sleep for some time after getting that many bombshells dropped on her head. And though she wasn’t too worried about Weiss and was actually a bit relieved that Penny was okay Winter couldn’t help the weariness that came with the realization that the time to fulfill her ultimate duty to her kingdom and the world was fast approaching. She had the strength, the talent, the knowledge, and capabilities to take up this role without fail. But that wasn’t the problem.

Winter: No matter what I do she just won’t-

She groans, getting up from her desk and going for a quick walk. It was around lunchtime, but Winter rarely eats more than twice a day. Still, she peeks into the cafeteria just in time to see Penny enter. She watches her converse with the students and staff before getting her lunch and heading to the outdoor tables. Winter found it odd given how social the girl was, but it wasn’t her place to judge.

However, a small part of her was a little impressed by her communication skills. The affable android had been primarily raised in a lab but was always extremely cordial with anyone who’d give her the time of the day, sometimes to an annoyed degree due to her lack of social grace. But recently she’d been more…courtly and tactful in her socialization than before. Her overstepping with questions and boundary-pushing via invading personal space had slowly but surely disappeared and her manner of speaking seemed to adapt to the atmosphere now. It was subtle but oddly familiar to Winter, in a way that just needled at the back of her head. As if her subconscious was poking at her memory banks for the train of recollection to put this bizarre sense of déjà vu into context.

Now Winter would never bother Penny with something so trivial as a personal matter, but she did inquiry about to Ironwood not too long ago. The interaction was..interesting to say the least.

A week prior to today Winter was standing in General Ironwood going over some paperwork when the topic of students shifting attitudes.

Winter: It seems that morale is plummeting amongst the new recruits.

Ironwood: Understandable, given the state of things. Don’t worry too much about it, I’ve already prepared something to help calm the academy stress level for a little while.

Winter: Have you green-lit another concert for Team FNKI?

Ironwood: Yes. It’s been a while and they’ve been itching to perform again. Besides, nothing soothes the souls in wartime more than good music.

Winter: True. But I have also noticed there’s somewhat of a spike in morale during lunch hours.

Ironwood: Again understandable, it’s a break time to recharge and eat.

Winter: Yes, but I’ve noticed there’s some correlation between that spike and Ms. Polendia’s newly instated lunch break.

Ironwood: I can imagine.

He says with a chuckle, setting his pen down and settling into a more relaxed position in his chair before continuing.

Ironwood: Penny’s a friendly chatty ball of positive energy, her company is just…comforting.

Winter: I understand but the way she’s been interacting with others just seems more well-rounded and auspicious than before.

Ironwood: So, you believe the spike is related to a change in her socializing?

Winter: It’s more so that her ability to converse has vastly improved. It is such a far cry from her previous behavior but still so in line with her personality. It’s almost as if she’s been coached on it.

Ironwood takes a sip of his coffee to try to stifle a laugh but ends up snorting into it, getting lukewarm coffee all over his mouth and in his bread.

Winter: General!

Ironwood: I’m fine! I’m fine!

He chimes half laughing and coughing as he grabs a tea towel from his desk and cleans himself off. Once he’s got himself together again, Ironwood looks at Winter with a gentle, almost amused gaze.

Ironwood: You’re right, she has been tutored on her people skills but not for the reasons you’re thinking.

Winter: And what exactly is this reason?

Ironwood chuckles again, hands moving to type something on his scroll.

Ironwood: Why don’t you see for yourself, I’m sending you the reports on her lessons. Give it a read when you have time.

Winter: Yes, Sir.

Ironwood: And for your own sake, please look it over somewhere private.

Winter: Of course, Sir.

And that was the last they’d spoken of the matter, Winter receiving the documents the same day. She had them printed out but hadn’t found the time to sit down and read them. Currently, the stack of papers was sitting in a drawer in her room collecting dust. The idea of reading it as she strides down the hall to her next task, just to get some context, but decides to hold off until later as she matches towards the most important part of her day.

Through a route, few knew of and many security checkpoints Winter reaches the most well-protected building in the academy and the kingdom.

The chamber of the winter maiden, protector of the tundra kingdom, and keeper of the staff of creation.

Once upon a time, Winter had believed this person to be nothing but a myth, a character in a story long twisted from countless retellings over centuries. A fairytale to give hope to children in a world where monsters hunt by the smell of fear and would tear them apart if not for the strength of a selected few who could combat them. But now, she knew it was far too real.

It was a shock, really, meeting this woman so long-lived she wondered if her grandfather had known her in his youth. Freya, a hero whose name would live on only in the files held at the academy just as her predecessor before her. She’d been an artist beforehand, with a weak aura and a less-than-notable semblance before she’d been chosen by the previous maiden. No one, not even Freya herself, knew why she was chosen by the last winter maiden. She had not had the time to speak of her choice before her demise nor to even choose a successor beforehand. So sudden was her passing that it only advanced the shock of the girl she’d chosen to take her mantle in her final hour.

Despite that Freya served her kingdom well all these years, even while sitting on what she knew would be her deathbed. She won’t make the last maiden’s mistake; no Freya would refuse the reaper’s call until she knew in her heart of hearts that the next girl in line for these powers would wield them with safety, pride, and love their kingdom in mind. Someone could do well, far better than she did in her years with them.

And that’s why Winter was there, as grim as it sounds. She was training to be and engaging with the winter maiden in order to take her place. Ironwood had insisted they get to know each other well before the time came so Freya could die without regret, safe in the knowledge she’d left her kingdom in good hands.

Ironwood: It’s the least we can do.

He’d told her, reassuring both white-haired women as they faced this sensitive issue. He’d even taken the time to debrief both on each other’s lives to the best of his abilities and encouraged them to get to know each other.

But that’s where the problems began.

As Winter enters the room with Freya’s meal, she’s met with the same apathetic gaze she was more than used to from the elder woman. She walks over to her bedside and holds the tray of food in one hand while the other pulls out the built-in tray table from the side of the bed. Once’s it up she sets the meal down in front of Freya and steps back.

Winter: Here you go.

She says politely, face still in its natural neutral state as she speaks. Freya glances at her and then at her food.

Freya: Is the other girl coming?

The elderly maiden asks, voice tired and impassive. Winter nods in adverse.

Winter: No, not today.

Freya sighs and begins to eat in silence. This was the biggest challenge the conversion had faced since the beginning. While Freya knew how capable and determined Winter was, and all the tales of her formative she’d been willing to share the woman just didn’t enjoy her presence in the slightest. In fact, she disliked Winter from the moment she met her, not unimpressed by her amazing feats of duty in the name of Atlas but rather disillusioned by her personality. No matter how they tried to get Freya to empathize with Winter the woman just wouldn’t budge.

Though she understood the greatness of her abilities, Freya could not come around to her. Even after hearing Winter's life story Freya found herself not as compelled by it. Instead, she’d noted something in the girl’s behavior that no one else had noticed or had refused to. Outside of physical conflicts, Winter was detached from almost everything and held no true personal ties outside what was absolutely necessary. She held nothing dear and cared for nothing but that was a given with how she grew up.

Still, Freya could not trust something this important to someone like her, not to a coward. Because of this reluctance, Freya had lived far past her expected death date and seemingly held strength out of pure spite. She didn’t believe in Winter and refused to die until she could or found someone she could believe in. Thus began the long quiet of their session, Winter tending to Freya in almost complete silence on good days and through cold tantrums on bad days.

After ensuring Freya is well-fed, exercised, and rested Winter leaves to do her daily physical training regimen. Even with Freya’s silent aversion to her, Winter still had to ready her body for the day she’d receive the winter maiden powers. The strength of the ice and cold winds was not to be trifled with and she needed to be prepared to receive it and return to battle as fast as possible.

It mostly involves pushing her agility, balance, and aim to their limits as lacking in even one of those abilities could be disastrous when wielding something like the elements. Ice especially due to its duality of being both extremely strong and brittle. Once she’s done with her training and work Winter gets some dinner to take to her room. It had been a long day and she wanted some alone time.

She returns to her room with a bowl of creamy chicken soup with a pork chop, and a side of steamed vegetables and rice, along with several pieces of bread. The food was piping hot, so Winter took a quick shower before sitting down to eat. Start with the soup, Winter takes a careful spoonful to test the taste and heat. The broth is creamy with a soothing undertone of root vegetables and chicken but still a little too hot to eat say yet. She stirs her soup lazily with her spoon for a while until it cools until it’s at a good temperature. She eats the bread between spoonfuls, loving the taste and texture of it melts into the soup on her tongue. Once her bowl is empty, she moves on to the pork chop and steamed vegetables and rice. The pork chop was breaded and fried with a dash of gravy so Winter cut the meat into bite-size pieces and scooped one onto her fork with each bite of vegetables and rice. The gravy soaking into the rice gives each bite a nice meaty taste, making the rather bland steamed vegetables go down easily.

When she’s done with her food, Winter puts her dish aside to take down in the morning. She’s about to go brush her teeth but finds she’s still a little peckish. She debates just going to sleep but it’s not too late in the evening. That and she still has those documents to read. So, she settles on having a light snack and some tea while reading.

From a small storage box in the corner of her room, she retrieved some provisions. A few boxes of high-brand tea, a couple bottles of spring water, a singer jar, and a tin box of cookies from a small bakery not too far from the academy. Was it a bit excessive? Yes, but she couldn’t really help herself. Though it’s just a small luxury held many good memories for her. One of the last times she saw her mother Willow in a good state of mind before the truth was revealed and the façade of a happy family went down the drain, with her mother finding comfort at the bottom of wine bottles. As to why she hides these treasures, this was the military, and she would be absolutely livid if someone tried to steal some or beg for something.

Filling her electric kettle with spring water, Winter retrieves a teacup and picks a flavor of tea to drink. Chamomile was good for sleep, but Winter didn’t want to get drowsy while reading and she’d already had black tea today. Ginger lemon was good for digestion, but the spicy undertones don’t go well with sweets, and since she was having cookies, she didn't want to have anything too overly sweet or fruity either so honey and berry flavors were out too. Looking through the boxes she finds a tin of oolong she’d forgotten about, an impulse purchase from her last mission abroad. The tin had a traditional Mistral tea wear design in pale white and deep blue. It was such a great match to her natural coloring and aesthetics that Winter couldn’t help but pick it up before even reading the label. Still, she wasn't one to waste a good product, and since oolong had a similar bold but lighter flavor than green it would go well with tonight's treats. Putting the leaves in the defuser and into the cup then pouring the hot water into the cup, she sits down with documents as she waits for the tea to steep.

The first page isn’t anything of note, Winter had known of Penny’s mission in Atlas for some time, and most of the general details of how that investigation went. But there were some blanks she’d never asked to be filled, like who was their lead into high society. Those blanks were filled with a shoot of dread as Winter reads the address of where Penny received her etiquette lessons.

Winter: What?!

That manor, the place she once called home until the illusion shattered, Penny had been going in and out as a visit almost daily for months!

Winter: But how?! Why?!

Winter’s breath hitched; she knew Ironwood would never ever let her father near an innocent soul if he could help it! He was the one who gave her the chance to run to freedom and help Weiss get as far away as she could!

Winter: Why would he let her go there?! How could this-

Her thoughts are stopped when she reads the name of Penny’s tutor, it’s a name she knew well but hadn’t graced her lips in far too long.

Winter: Whitley?

She says aloud, puzzled as to how her only brother had become part of this. Reading further she discovers the life debt Whitley had incurred from Penny and the political deal that followed. This calms her slightly, her father using someone’s goodwill to gain an edge was as much a fact of life to her as needing air to breathe. And though the connotations of him gaining political power gave her shivers, it was hardly the biggest issue she had to deal with right now. Pausing to finish preparing her tea and opening her tin of cookies, Winter gets comfortable before resuming her reading.

As she goes from the formative details into the lesson plans and progress reports Winter finds herself immersed in the text. The way of writing in each report was so uniquely Whitley she could almost hear his voice reading in her ears. Seeing the effect and time he took into teaching Penny was so… interesting. The way he taught wasn’t anything like they’d grown up with at all, it was customized to work with Penny’s learning style. More hands-on work and promoted in ways that feed off her thirst for knowledge and growth. Breaks were offered if needed along with snacks, things people would expect from the upper class but were something none of the three siblings had experienced at all. The entries that stand out the most are the practical one's elite harassment, something she’d never been prepared for and suffered greatly from in her youth. The work he put into making sure Penny could survive and thrive was more than Winter could have ever hoped out of anyone, especially her brother.

In some ways, he seemed the most like their father as they got older. At least that’s what Winter remembered.

To be fair she hadn’t paid him much attention since she joined the military and started training Weiss. The most recent memories she had of him were just passing glances and hearing catty remarks she couldn’t even recall. The clearest recollections she had of him she had were from years ago. She could still remember holding him for the first time, his tiny hand wrapped around her pinky finger and his bright little eyes looking up at her with all the innocence in the world. She could still hear him leading his scales on the piano, trying to catch you with her and Weiss so they could play together like a little band. She recalled how he used to sneak her his portion of the snacks he didn’t like when they had tea, trying his best not to slip over their grandfather’s cape as he reached over to her plate. All because he didn’t like cucumbers but didn’t want to waste it.

He was so precious to her then, so sweet despite everything going on around them. And from what she could gleam he was still that sweet boy in some ways even after everything turned out so horrible.

When did he stop being that way? Or rather when did she stop seeing it? Seeing him, her own little brother as himself.

Winter: Just when he did become this grown up?

She thought to herself, picking up her teacup to take a sip. She looks down and sees a ripple in the tea as she pulls it to her lips. Then another and another as clear droplets fall into her cup. Wiping her cheek with the tip of her finger, Winter feels a line of water dripping down her face. When she had started crying Winter didn't know but she wouldn’t let that stop her from reading. Staying up late, rediscovering a dear memory she’d long since forgotten.

#rwby fanfiction #fanfic #rwby #angst #winter schnee #sad #new chapter

4 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 5 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between Shadows

Chapter 7: Wandering with you.

Clothes lay scattered across her bed as Penny searched through her closet. The night Whitley texted her they’d spent hours after dinner planning this meet-up. Jacques was heading out again and the weather was going to be nice all weekend, so they’d have plenty of time to spend together. Whitley had been cooped up in the manor for a while, so Penny had suggested they go to the park and get some fresh air together.

Penny: I know a nice one nearby. It has an ice rink, a big playground, and some picnic tables. We can go ice skating and get lunch from one of the street vendors!

She proposed, Whitley ruminated on the suggestion for a moment. He hadn’t been to a park in over a decade but the thought of skating with Penny did tickle his fancy too much to refuse.

Whitley: Should I bring my own skates?

He quips with a smile. With the location picked out and a time frame sorted the only thing left to do for Penny was pick out an outfit! It wasn’t too cold out but there was still snow on the ground so pants or leggings would be best if she was going to be doing physical activities. Being a skirt lover Penny looked through all her causal clothes for a suitable one, as she searched, she recalled the stylish cold-weather outfit she’d picked up at Stellar oh so long ago. Putting the pieces together and looking them over as set Penny decides to swap out the yellow boots for her brown winter boots so she can be steady on her feet instead of risking stumbling while breaking in the higher heels. She also switches out the compass-themed accessories for her silver brooch to better match her deep blue blouse. She dawns her outfit then checks herself out in the mirror and after a few adjustments everything looks great. Now on to hair, since she’s gonna be active a simple high ponytail works fine. And as a final touch, she applies a coat of cherry lipgloss to her lips, a little something she picked up at the store earlier in the week. It’s a small touch that adds a lovely little shine to her appearance.

With that Penny’s ready to go, placing her necessities into the large pockets of her coat and heads downstairs. Her dad had gone up to the academy to help run some diagnostics on the mechas stationed at the border earlier that day, so Penny locks up the house before leaving. She practically skips all the way to the station and seems to sway as she stays outside waiting for Whitley.

Whitley himself was just as excited, sitting on the train bound for the lower city. He’d dressed a little more carefully this time, adding a blue and gray plaid sweater vest and low leather boots to his ensemble along with a satchel. Inside this satchel was a pair of ice skates, ones he hadn’t used in some time but luckily still fit. He’d spent more than an hour the night before checking and prepping them for today. After browbeating Mary into sneaking him the needed material, Whitley had polished the skates to perfection and even sharpened up the blades to ensure they’d been in peak form. He holds them tightly in his lap as the train car slowly comes to a stop at its destination.

Stepping out onto the platform and into the station Whitley wades through the crowd to the exit. He debates trying to sneak up on Penny again but is spotted before he can come to a decision.

Penny: Hey! Over here!

She calls out, waving him over from the closet street corner. Whitley turns and bolts straight for her, throwing the satchel straps over one shoulder as he goes straight for a hug. As soon as they make contact Whitley lays his head in the crack of Penny’s and breathes in deep. Taking in her essence and breathing out all the stress he’d been storing, Whitley feels instantly lighter. Her soothing presence and comforting scent putting him completely at ease. Penny wraps her arms around his shoulder and neck, giggling a little when his hair tickles her cheek.

Whitley: Gods, I missed you.

He whispers sweetly, Penny’s cheeks heat up as she responds in kind.

Penny: Missed you too.

After a long embrace they part, Whitley stealing another longing glaze and immediately notices the tent of pink on Penny’s lips.

Whitley: What’s this?

He asks, grasping Penny’s chin with his hand and tilting it upwards to get a better look. The gloss shimmers as Whitley holds a teasing finger right under her bottom lip.

Whitley: Is this-(chuckles)-are you wearing makeup?

Penny: J-just some lipgloss.

She stammers in response, face glowing beet red as she gently pushes Whitley’s hand away. He smirks at her reaction and then holds out an arm to her.

Whitley: Shall we?

Penny links her arm with his with a soft smile and they two begin their trek to the park. Thankfully it doesn’t take long as Penny guides them through the quickest route. The park itself looks like a stretch of pathways surrounded by deep snow, grass barely peeking out from the depths of it. There’s hardly anyone around besides some elderly people sitting on benches, playing chess on the public boards, or feeding the few flocks of birds that congregate in the area. Some wave as they pass when they notice Penny, a few inquiring about the young man she’s with. Phrases like “Who’s this?” “Is he a friend of yours?” “Is that your boyfriend?” and more are repetitively hurdled at Penny as they walk through the park. She brushes them off and tries to hurry past to avoid more prying while Whitley quietly chuckles under his mask, playfully waving back as they wade through the wave of nosy old people. Eventually, they reach their destination, the ice rink and playground.

The playground was nothing remarkable, just a metal jungle gym, some swings, seesaws, and monkey bars. Children were playing about all over the place, all dressed in thick winter coats that hardly seemed to slow down the running, jumping, and playing as the little ones enjoyed the snow-covered landscape. Opposite to that was the equally bustling ice rank where the older parkgoers make their best attempts at skating around the rink. Most just do careful rotations while others try to pull off tricks. Couples young and old hold hands as they skate together, teens do dumb tricks that raise the ire of the custodians working who promptly yell at them to knock it off and children hold on to training frames as their parent helps them get the hang of things.

Penny’s eyes shine in excitement at the sight of so many people out enjoying the day, meanwhile, Whitley is less than impressed. This was honestly the shabbiest rink he’d ever seen, completely outdoors with loaner skates that had been in circulation for five years at the least and a main building that most likely hadn't been renovated in the last decade. But seeing Penny’s excitement he pushes all that aside, as long as she’s happy and at his side the venue doesn’t matter.

Whitley: So, you ready to go skating or-

Penny: Yes!

She interrupts him, eagerness practically beaming off her.

Whitley: Okay then little miss go-getter, why don’t you go get some skates and I’ll meet you on the rink?

Penny: Okay! I’ll be right back! Don’t start without me!

She exclaimed joyfully before running off to the counter to borrow a pair of skates. Getting in line with others Penny waits patiently for her turn as others ahead of her get their skates and head to the ice.

Rink Attendant: Next.

The attendant calls as the last person in front of Penny steps out of the way, letting her move up to the front.

Penny: Hello! I like to borrow a pair of ice skates, please!

She asks, the slightly disinterested teen attendant gives her half a gaze before pushing a clipboard with the sigh in form over to her but pauses when he realizes who’s in front of him.

Rink Attendant: What the-are you are-are you the flying huntress lady? Penny, right?

Penny: Yes, that’s me.

Rink Attendant: Holy crap, you’re like a local hero! My little cousin is crazy about you, he won’t shut up about seeing you around town!

Penny: Aw, really? What’s his name?

Rink Attendant: Georgy.

Penny thinks for a moment, combing through her memories for a child with that name. And soon she finds it, recalling the face of a particularly excitable little boy among one of the groups of children she sees almost daily.

Penny: Oh, little Georgy. He should be turning seven this month, right?

Rink Attendant: Yeah, tomorrow actually! How’d you know?!

Penny: He told me the last time I helped his class cross the street to their elementary school, he was passing out invitations while in line. Please tell him I said happy birthday.

Rink Attendant: I will trust me I will! So, what did you need again?

Penny: Ice skates, please.

Rink Attendant: Alright, alright, what’s your shoe size?

Penny: Six and a half.

Rink Attendant: Okay, just put down your first and last name and your scroll number here and I’ll be right back with your skates.

Penny: Okay.

Penny notes down her name and number while the attendant goes over to the rack of skates and finds a pair in her size. After a few minutes, he returns and puts the skates on the counter.

Rink Attendant: Here you go, just remember to bring them back when you’re done.

Penny: Of course, thank you.

Penny grabs the skates and turns to walk away, as she’s leaving the attendant calls out to her.

Joey: Be the way my name’s Joey!

He half shouts, the attendant at the snack bar shaking her head disapprovingly. Penny, being no stranger to gaining admiration from her citizens, looks back at him and smiles.

Penny: Thanks again, Joey. I promise to return these in the best state possible.

She beams before running back over to the rink. Going up to the opening closest to the entrance, Penny spots Whitley standing in wait, holding onto the side while wearing his skates. He notices her approaching and waves her over.

Whitley: There you are, I thought you’d gotten lost again.

Penny: Sorry, the line was longer than I expected, I also met a relative of a fan of mine and made some light conversation.

Whitley: A fan? I didn’t know I was dating a celebrity.

He jests, Penny giggles at his joke as she sits down and removes her shoes.

Penny: I’m not a celebrity say per se, just very active in the protection of the city and the safety of its citizens. People took notice of my efforts and appreciate me for it.

Whitley: I see. So aside from being a great student, model soldier, and an amazing partner, you’re also a pillar of your community. Is there anything you can’t do?

He states with a wink, garnering another giggle as well as a blush from Penny while she pulls the skates onto her feet and starts tying the laces. Looking between them it’s obvious Whitley’s skates are the superior pair. White leather, in perfect condition with blades sharp enough to cut through the ice like butter. Meanwhile, Penny’s loaners were a worn dingy brown color that had clearly seen better days, the blades being the only saving grace on them. Penny is far too excited to notice or care about that whole Whitley silently contemplates getting her a pair as a gift for the next time they go skating. But before he can start thinking about what color she’d prefer; Penny gets up and attempts to stand in her skates.

Penny: Okay, they’re on! Now let’s-Whoa!

But she quickly loses her balance, Whitley quickly moving forward to catch her arm and help her stand up straight before she can fully tumble to the ground. Holding onto his arm, Penny has trouble keeping her footing on the thin blades.

Whitley: Easy, easy, just take it one step at a time.

Whitley advises, holding onto to Penny with on arm and the side of the rink with the other. Penny nods cautiously and slowly starts taking baby steps toward the rink, never letting Whitley’s hand go for a second. Her excitement quickly turns to nervousness as Penny’s never felt this unsteady on her feet before, legs shaking with apprehension at every step. She moves at a snail’s pace, inch by inch, and watches her feet until she’s right up against Whitley at the entrance to the rink. Seeing the tension in her movements Whitley gently steps back onto the ice and takes her other hand in his, gently guiding her out with him.

Whitley: Penny.

He calls, trying to distract her from her fear but it goes unheard.

Whitley: Penny!

He repeats, this time more forcefully. This does manage to grab her attention as Penny’s graze jerks up from the ground and onto Whitley.

Whitley: Keep your head up. You can’t see where you’re going if you keep looking down like that.

Penny: O-okay.

Whitley: Good, now relax. If you’re stiffen up like that, you’ll lock your knees and fall.

Penny: O-okay, okay.

Penny takes a few deep breaths and tries to relax her body, still holding onto Whitley as they stand on the ice. Once she stops shaking and her breathing evens out Whitley continues.

Whitley: Calm now?

Penny: Yeah.

Whitley: Great…Are you ready to try and move?

Penny hesitates for a moment, looking down at her feet again before looking back at Whitley. He seems so calm; his gaze is so soft as he stares at her, and his hands caress her arms gently. His demeanor is just so serene and comforting Penny wanted to dive straight into his arms and hold him close. But being in public and knowing she’d never get skating if she did, with a look of pure determination Penny nods yes.

Whitley: Okay. First things first, put your dominant foot forward.

Penny nods and cautiously puts her right foot forward.

Whitley: Okay, now I need you to lean your weight towards me and push forward.

Penny: Just move forward on only one foot?

She asks starting back down at her feet then looks back up, her nerves clearly getting to her again. Whitley, overcome with compassion and worry, tries to reassure her.

Whitley: It doesn’t have to be much, just do whatever you’re comfortable with. You can hold onto me for leverage, and make sure to raise your other foot as push off.

Penny: Okay.

Penny takes a big deep breath in, shuts her eyes, and pushes forward, Whitley moving backward to match her step. When she realizes she hasn’t fallen yet, opens her eyes and peeks around to see that she is still standing. Relieved and reassured Penny looks to Whitley with a smile, as if asking to take another step.

Whitley: Now the other.

He chimes, encouraging her to keep moving. She pushes off on her left foot and they move forward a bit. Feeling more confident, Penny keeps moving forward, her stripes getting bigger as they go. Through this, Whitley continues to hold her, moving backward at her pace with ease. As they skate along the long side of the rink Penny grows more comfortable and relaxes into the rhythm of their movements. It’s smooth sailing until they close in on one of the bends, Whitley looking back ahead of them to see how close they are to the curve.

Whitley: Okay, we’re coming up on a turn.

Penny: Oh no!

Penny’s eyes dilate with fear, but Whitley quickly reassures her.

Whitley: It’s okay. Just gently lean your weight away from the curve, I’ll help you balance.

Penny: Are you sure I won’t fall?!

Whitley: I promise you won’t, trust me.

Penny nods and as they hit the turn, she leans with Whitley, and they glide around the rounded edge of the rink. As they drift Penny stares into Whitley’s eyes, they glimmer with absolute admiration and trust as they gaze into hers. The look gives her peace of mind as they reach the other end of the curve.

Whitley: There we go. Now straight back up.

He chirps, causing Penny to giggle as they straighten out again. They glide around the rink a few times until Penny seems comfortable with her skating, only then does Whitley let go of one of Penny’s hands and skate alongside her. As they drift leisurely across the ice, Penny can’t help but gaze at the other skaters. Specifically, she looks in awe of the more seasoned ice dancers practicing their craft nearby. One girl, in particular, grabs her attention as the dancer moves closer to the center of the rink and performs a lay-back spin. The girl arches beautifully as twirls in one skate, tutu over her thermos haloing her waist as she spins. This display garners the amusement and astonishment of many on the rink, including Penny who releases of Whitley’s hand to applaud her. Seeing her attention taken off him, Whitley feels a tiny tinge of jealousy.

Whitley: It’s not that impressive, her execution was poor, and she could barely keep her form for more than a few seconds. I could do better.

He really could, Whitley was well-versed in the art of figure skating. Having spent years being trained by many master skaters alongside Weiss and Winter as part of their formative education. His skill was a performance level and though he hardly used this skill the training had been so intense most of the move set he was taught had been committed to muscle memory. And with a glint of playfulness in his eyes, Whitley moves away from Penny and towards the inner parts of the rink. Penny reaches out to with a confused expression on her face but Whitley just shots her wink and strides onward.

Whitley opens up his coat and increases his speed as he does a half routine around the rink before turning around and doing a backflip, landing elegantly on one leg. He then slides into a camel spin, upper body and left leg up in a horizontal position as he spins with his right. Once he spins out Whitley skates backward for a good distance until he builds up the momentum for a waltz jump into a double salchow then a triple axel.

Penny watches on in pure amazement, as do many of the other skaters on the rink. Seeing these reactions Whitley goes further and shows off his best footwork before capping his performance with a layback spin that folded into a sitting spin. There’s a small round of applause from the onlookers, Penny being the most enthusiastic as she fights the urge to jump up and down while clapping her heart out. Whitley notes her eagerness as he takes a dramatic bow before skating back to her side.

Penny: That was amazing!!!

Whitley: Thank you.

He says with a smirk, relishing in the brilliant sparkles of astonishment in Penny’s eyes.

Penny: I knew you were a good dancer, but this is a completely different art!

Whitley: Figure skating is a common aristocratic hobby in cold climates and as a child of affluence I’ve been in skates as long as I’ve been in dancing shoes.

Penny: Really?! Are there any other hidden talents you haven’t told me about?

She asks both teasingly and curiously, her sense of wonder greatly perked at the discovery of her boyfriend’s ice-dancing prowess.

Whitley: Of course, there are. But where’s the fun in just telling you?

He chirps before skating away, Penny following close behind. Their conversation continues as they glide around the rink.

Penny: So how many are there?

Whitley: Of what?

Penny: Your talents I don’t know.

Whitley: Hmm, hard to say. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me and I’m not too keen to share them yet.

Penny: Can you a least give me an estimate?

Whitley: And ruin the mystic of our relationship? Never!

He spouts in a fake dramatic tone, faux gobsmacked look, and his face and hand over his heart to aid his theatrics. Penny sighs and presses on.

Penny: Are you really that unwilling to tell, or do you just not trust me to know?

Whitley: What?

Penny: It’s okay if that’s why, I understand your reasoning. Just because we’ve grown close to each other doesn't mean that our trust in each other is absolute.

Whitley: Wait, that's not it at all!

He stops dead in his tracks, halting Penny in hers, and the two stand face-to-face on the ice.

Whitley: Look, Penny, there’s just-(sigh)-there’s a lot of things going on at home for right now and there’s a lot of history there I just…I just don’t think you’re ready to know just yet.

Penny: I…I know.

Whitley: I do trust you, Penny. I love being that I can be myself, my true self with you. And while I’d love to tell you…everything about me there’s just…

Whitley sighs, the weight of all the horrors in his life becoming unbearably heavy as he tries to speak. He takes her hands in his, holding them tenderly as he gazed directly onto her eyes.

Whitley: There are just some things that are better left unsaid for the time being.

Penny: I-I…uh..

Penny’s breath hitches and she feels a chill up her spine. She knew Whitley had his secrets, Penny had her own, but with all the understanding and kindness he’d given her, she couldn't help the cloud of guilt that hung over her head. And knowing now that it was only a matter of in when not if made that cloud hung more like a guillotine’s blade, the rope holding it up slowly being cut away by Whitley’s continued earnestly.

How ironic, the girl who could tell no lies was suddenly terrified by incoming truths.

Seeing the uncertainty on her face Whitley reaches up to caress one of her cheeks, concerned that he’d accidentally hit a sore spot for her.

Whitley: I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-

Penny: Hey, can you teach me some of your skating moves?!

Penny asks her face lit up with normal joyous enthusiasm, all hints of worry seemingly blasting themselves off her in a fraction of a second. Whitley is taken aback at the tone shift, usually, he’s the one to cut the conversation when things got too heavy but today Penny had beaten him to the punch.

Whitley: Really?

Penny: Yes! I really want to try the spins! They looked so fun!

Whitley: Well, those aren’t beginner-level tricks. Maybe we can try something simpler like a bunny hop.

Penny: Bunny hop? What’s that?!

Whitley demonstrates, doing a little hop from one place to another without losing balance. Penny’s immediately invested and soon their date turns into a short beginner ice skating lesson. The tense of their previous discussion dies down but the sting of it lingers as both try hard to push passed it. After a couple of hours on the rink, it's lunchtime. Penny turns in her skates, Joey assisting her again and tries to slide her a small slip of paper with his number on it, but Whitley’s quick hands and icy gaze dashes the attempted flirt before Penny can even notice. With that settled the couple considered their options, Penny volunteering the snack bar as the quick and easy pick. Whitley quickly rejects this on the ground that their hot chocolate was made with mostly hot water and the condiment dispenser looked like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks which Penny agrees with. So they go with the original plan, cart vendors. One of the things Soltais was prided on, especially when it came to tourism, was its status as a winter wonderland. Beautiful snow fell often, meaning there was always a chance for winter games and winter foods that the rest of the world only enjoyed in mass during their cold seasons. This extended to food vendors all over both cities, and with it being lunchtime Penny and Whitley don’t have to go far to find some. Carts serving mini meat pies, hot sandwiches, soups, and many more warm delights were common places in parks and shopping areas in Mantle. And being in the lower city on a weekend meant some interesting vendors could be found. Foreign vendors from all over the globe would petal their offerings around heavily populated areas in both but Mantle’s were known for being both convenient and inexpensive without a loss in taste.

With no lack of options, Penny and Whitley wander for a moment, searching for something good to eat. In their searching, the cries of one particular vendor catches Penny’s attention.

Vendor: Corn Dog! Nice Thick, Hot, and Cheesy Mistrial Style Corn Doges!

He cries, Penny looks over at his setup and is a little surprised. It’s larger than the normal hotdog stands, with a pot of batter and a fryer built into it along with a session for toppings which themselves are unusual. Sliced potatoes, crushed-up spicy chips, even corn cereal and sugar. It’s only when the next person in line for the stand orders does Penny understands the big difference between this corn dog and a regular one as the vendor reaches into the small refrigerator and pulls out two long chopsticks both skewered with half with a beef sausage and half mozzarella cheese. After the vendor dunks the skewers into the batter and spins them around to gather up a good coat, he drops them right into the boiling fry oil. The smell the frying gives off is oddly sweet, almost like a donut, which draws Penny in even more. Once the pair is done cooking the vendor pulls them out and places them on paper serving boats before sprinkling on sugar and spraying on lines of ketchup and mustard. The sight is mouth-watering, and the very easily excitable Penny can’t help but Whitley over to share her discovery. Whitley is…less than eager about her findings, he hadn’t really had junk food in years and honestly was too well-versed in nutrition to actively seek it out. But the smell coming off the stand was delightful, and he was already breaking many of his father’s rules just by being here, so what’s the harm in having a little treat?

They get in line and order two, one regular and one with potatoes, and sit down at a nearby bench to eat. Penny takes the original style while Whitley has the potato fried, as per usual Penny blows on her to cool it before her excitement and takes a premature bite. It’s hot, crunchy, and gooey as her teeth break through the crust and into the melted cheese underneath. The condiments give it a multilayered undertone as the sugar combines with the tangy ketchup and mustard. It’s a wonderful flavor mix, dancing on Penny’s tongue as she buffs and puffs to cool it down before swallowing. Hungry and entranced by Penny’s display of enjoyment Whitley also takes a hesitant bite. At first, there’s an odd sense of nostalgia as his taste buds are hit with a familiar flavor. It’s potato fritters, something his mother would sneak him and his sisters when they went out with her father before he became too ill to get out of bed. It’s a comforting flavor that is only amplified by the cheese and condiments. As they eat, Penny accidentally gets a nice cheese stretch going as she pulls back from a bite. Intrigued she pulls it further away only for the stringy cheese to stretch longer and longer. The feat amuses her greatly and she turns to show Whitley the silly situation she’s in.

Penny: Hmm!

She mutters, holding the other end of the cheese rope in her mouth while holding the source in Whitley’s face to see. Whitley chuckles at the ridiculous mess she’s made then without even two seconds of thought he bites off the other end from the corndog and sucks the string of cheese into his mouth. Now connected to her by a thin thread of mozzarella Whitley immediately started eating the cheese, carefully gnawing so the string wouldn't break as he got closer and closer to Penny’s mouth. Said girl is completely stunned by yet another bold move from her boyfriend, only regaining her sense when his lips are only centimeters from touching hers. Once out of her trance, Penny bites down hard, cuts the string from her end, and slurs up the remaining cheese. Whitley smirked at her shyness and finished off the rest of his half of the string before continuing to eat his corn dog.

Once lunch is over, they play in the snow for a bit. Penny rolls up big balls of snow for the snowman while Whitley gathers sticks and stones to decorate it. He smoothes out some of the shapes while Penny stacks the snow and they put the face on together. The first is a nicely made traditional snowman, minus the black top hat, festive scarf, and carrot nose.

Whitley: And he’s done. Not too bad for a locally sourced snowman if I do say so myself.

Penny: He looks so good, there’s hardly any big lumps or cracks in him either!

Whitley: You're welcome, smoothing him out without damaging his structure wasn’t easy but I think he was worth the effort.

Penny: Thank you for your contribution, Whitley, I really appreciate it. Now what do we name him?

Whitley: I’m not sure, mind throwing out some suggestions?

Penny: Hmm.

Penny thinks for a moment, names were a very subjective topic. The standard changes depending on what was being named. Animals could be named after people, food, and objects due to being living creatures but objects were significantly less emotionally precious to be given such monikers. Most often an object is named in relation to what it is. Racking her brain for everything snow-related, Penny comes up with a short list of possible names.

Penny: Snowdrop?

Whitley: That’s a little too feminine for a snowman.

Penny: Snowburg?

Whitley: I believe that’s the name of festive festive-themed glass workshop.

Penny: Snowdust?

Whitley: That’s the street name of at least three different illegal substances.

Penny: Oh.

Penny pauses again, trying her hardest to come up with something suitable for the lovely snow pal she’d created with her beloved. It had to be something memorable to commemorate the moment so she expanded her perimeters. And after several moments of silent contemplation, Penny finally decides what to name the snowman.

Penny: How about…. Lord Snowington!

She announces, proud of her choice as her boyfriend looks at her completely bewildered by her name choice.

Whitley..., Excuse me, could you repeat that?

Penny: His name is Lord Snowington!

Whitley: And what spurred this name into being?

Penny: Well, he’d made of snow but very well-crafted, so I gave him the Lord title and added the ington on as it’s commonly associated with people of wealth and higher standing.

She explains. Whitley takes a moment to absorb this information and finds himself laughing at Penny’s absurd reasoning. It was so on theme for her to use such sound logic in the most bizarre ways.

Whitley: I see. (chuckles) Well Lord Snowington it is then!

With that, their creation is dubbed Lord Snowington, and the pair soon decide he needs a companion. Unfortunately, by the time they begin building the second one a group of young teenagers, most like middle schoolers, have taken notice of their work and aim to ruin the fun. Without prompting one throws a snowball directly at the snowman’s head, only to be intercepted by Penny’s incredible speed.

Penny; Hey! Leave our snowman alone.

She shouts, holding the attempted means of snow destruction in her hand. The malicious juveniles take her stance as a challenge and quickly start gathering up snow.

Whitley: Looks like they want a fight.

Penny: I can see that, are you okay with engaging in light combat?

Whitley: Well, I haven’t thrown a snowball in years, but I wouldn’t mind giving it a try. Besides they’ve disrespected Lord Snowington, and that can’t stand.

Penny: Okay, then get ready for battle!

She cries before digging down to the ground and making her own snow ammunition. Penny had always wanted to have a snowball fight and she wasn’t gonna waste the chance to cut losses. Soon it’s an all-out war! The middle schoolers start hurling snowballs at the couple, their aim isn’t the best and their form is clumsy but they’re giving it their all. Despite being outnumbered both Penny and Whitley are quick-footed and coordinated enough to dodge the onslaught. When the opportunity to strike back comes Penny stands firm with direct attacks, throwing snowballs at those closest by while she guards Lord Snowington. Whitley takes a stealthier approach, compacting his snowballs to be steadier and aiming for weak points like stomach and legs to trip up their already messy formation.

In the end, the middle schoolers admit defeat and take off, Lord Snowington still standing in the aftermath. By the time Whitley has to get going they’ve made a little snow family, Lord Snowington Lady Snowington, their daughter Valley, and their pet snow bunny Carrot. Penny waves their snow friends goodbye as they leave the park, hoping they might last long enough to see again the next time she patrols the area. As they walk back to the station Whitley feels a wave of fatigue washes over him, all the physical activity draining the commonly sedentary young man. It’s been so long since he’d had that much fun while being so active his usual sluggishness is replaced by a more fulfilled sense of tiredness. Still, his body cries for rest and yawns, Whitley reaching up to cover his mouth on reflex only to be met by the fabric of his mask over his skin. Penny giggles at his clumsy moment and Whitley responds by playfully pinching her cheek as they continue walking.

This was bliss to him, being fun and silly with someone who loved and cared for him. Though it did make going back up even harder, sometimes just looking at her made Whitley want to stay and never look back. But he knew the consequences that would bring, and he had goals to fulfill before he could truly act as he wished.

Whitley: Just a little longer. Two more years at the most and less than that if I can find a big enough weak point to exploit until I’m of age.

Whitley muses as he bids Penny farewell before walking into the train station. He looks back once before going through the entrance, being graced with the view of Penny still waving him goodbye, an innocent smile bright on her face and eyes full of warmth. What a shame that she fell for someone like him, a person tangled up in a world so bleak it was eating him alive. What would she think of him if she knew the things he’d witnessed? How would she see him if she knew of the monsters in his company more often than not? What would she do if she knew what he was willing to do for his freedom and how much he’d already done for it? Whitley didn’t know but deep down he was sure that the less she knew of his true nature the better.

Whitley: Hopefully I can keep this clean enough to stay with her. Getting blood on those soft hands would be too cruel.

He thinks, marching towards the platform for his train, apathetic towards his departure back to the he he calls home. Still, the lingering scent of Penny on his clothes and the warmth her visage gave him was enough to keep him sane. He’d call her again tonight and the next morning, missing her every second until they met again. It was a torturous cycle but far kinder than any other he’d experienced. And for Whitley, that was more than enough.

#rwby fanfiction #fanfic #penny polendina #rwby #beta testers #whitley schnee #fanfiction #angst #cute #sorry it took a while #this year has been nuts #broken machines

5 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 6 months

Text

youtube

Found this on YouTube last night.

#fashion dreamer #style savvy 4 #style savvy #girls mode #fashion game #Youtube

9 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 6 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between Shadows

Chapter 6: Corporate, Crime, and Colleagues

Being busy is a normal part of life most people just fall into. Be it because of schoolwork, actual work, chores, or a hobby, things just get backed up and need to be tackled in way too short of a deadline. And unfortunately for the two youngest high-ranking workaholics in the Atlas range, today was one of those days.

Whitley, up early as usual, had just gotten through his backlog of work that morning when Hannah knocked on his door.

Hannah: Young Master?

Whitley sighs, pockets his scroll and gets up from his desk to open the door for her. But when he sees her it’s clear something is very very wrong. Her expression is sour, and her face is slightly green from uneasiness, not something you want to see on your service staff so early in the day.

Whitley: What happened this time, Hannah?

Hannah: W-well, Master had a guest over last night.

Whitley: Yes, I’m aware. And?

Hannah: Well, it seems he’s made a…little messy in one of the guest rooms, and the cleaning crew is having trouble tidying it up.

Whitley: Are they running low on supplies or was there some property damage they can work around?

Hannah: N-no, it’s not that.

Whitley: Then what’s the problem?

Hannah: It’s…not easy to describe. Honestly, it would be easier just to show you. Please follow me.

Whitley sighs again before stepping out into the hallway and letting Hannah led him to the aforementioned guest room. As they’re approaching Whitley can already tell this was going to be unpleasant to deal with. The cleaning crew was standing outside the room dawned in protective smocks, industrial duty gloves, and masks. They all looked horrified but were completely clean as if they couldn’t even attempt to enter for fear of meeting some horrible fate. A foul snitch permeates through the hall, the only indicator of what’s got them so spooked. The moment Whitley gets a whiff of it his stomach drops, he knows that smell and immediately understands why everyone’s being so cautious. Still, he needs to confirm his hunch before calling in backup.

Whitley: Please God, let it be just a small pile on the bedsheets.

He prays, before opening the doors to the guest's room and peeking in. His eyes go wide in pure horror as he gets a glimpse of the mess inside. The smell hits him at full force causing him to double over and gag, stomach threatening to empty onto the floor. He pulls back slamming the doors shut before turning to Hannah.

Whitley: Where is the guest?

Hannah: In another room down the hall, asleep.

Whitley: Okay, make sure he gets rehydrated when he’s awake, and give him soft easily digestible food for the rest of his stay.

Hannah: Yes, sir!

Whitley: Thank you. Now I’m going to call the hazmat company to clean this up. When they finish take everything out of that room outside and burn it.

Hannah: Everything?

Whitley: Yes, not even the strongest industrial cleaner is going to get that level of snitch out.

Hannah winces and then nods her head in agreement, walking away to inform the other staff members of their new orders. Whitley calls up the cleaning specialist but just as he finishes the call, he gets a message from his father. A demand to summoning him to an in-house conference with some of his business associates. Or more accurately a meeting with a bunch of corks brushing aside the worries of middle management who know good and well that they’re toeing the line of legality on multiple fronts. And Whitley was going to play rear guard in case someone lost their temper, again.

Whitley: As always, there is no peace in this house.

He muses before walking back to his room to make preparations for the meeting.

Meanwhile, in Mantle, Penny is assisting in another emergency involving the robberies. The military detail for Hemlock Steel was making its way back with the shipment but two small explosions stopped them midway. The first detonated directly under the armored van’s engine causing it to blow up along with the front of the vehicle. This also caused a fire that quickly spread to the interior. The shipment truck stopped immediately after the blast, the soldiers inside leaped out to aid their comrades. Just as they were getting everyone out the second explosive went off. Though this one was just a flashbang, it still managed to temporally blind and deafen the soldiers in range. By the time most had regained their senses, the shipment truck was gone, and they had to call back up for transport back and to tend to the wound.

Which is where Penny came in.

It's hard to keep her anger in check as helps her fellow soldiers into medical vans, carrying a few who couldn’t stand and guiding others whose vision was still impaired by the second blast.

Penny: Okay, just take a few more steps.

She said softly, right hand set steady on the shoulder of a soldier and the other firmly grasped in his hand as they walked carefully on the icy terrain. He was a young man, a newer recruit barely nineteen years old, and already wore heavy prescription glasses. But they had shattered in the first blast, a reflexive blink being the only thing to save his eyes from direct damage. Until the second blast.

Penny: That’s it, now put your foot up onto the step.

She directs the man as he steps up and into the medic van, shaking while still grasping Penny’s hand tightly. He’s unsure in his steps but thankfully manages to get in safely where military EMTs get to look after him along with the other injured. Penny lingers for a moment to watch as they check his eyes, the meager reactions and dilation as they shine a light into them being clear indications of damage. Penny couldn’t help but be hit with a sharp twinge of pity for him. If it could be healed naturally it would take a while, leaving him somewhat blind for the duration. But if the damage was great enough to necessitate treatment via cybernetic or even complete ocular transplant then he would never be the same again. As one who’d had her whole body replaced aside from a few key organs, Penny knew just how foreign those new parts could feel in both good and bad ways. But she couldn’t dwell on it for long, there were still others in need of help before the cold or their injuries got to them.

Penny: Just focus on getting everyone home safe. Everything else is secondary.

She tells herself, pushing down the heavy emotions swirling around in her head as she returns to the wreckage to grab the next patient.

Back in Atlas, Whitley is sitting in the middle of a corporate battlefield. Accountants, lawyers, and descent-minded middle-upper management begging for clarification on discrepancies in budgets and complaints from both employees and customers while Jaques's team of well-bribed broader members deflected all wrongdoings.

The issue of missing money is the first to send everything into disarray, accountants terrified of possible tax issues demand to know why spending was so high. The most senior of them, Jeffery Hayward was especially vocal, reminding the board of the “cost-cutting measures” Jacques had put in place and how hard the finance and legal department had worked to make it happen without any of the four kingdom’s councils interfering.

Jeffery: We had protests around office buildings for months, White Fang members used it as an insight incident to justify the murder of multiple executives and a few board members! Men who were here when this company came to be and stood beside our founder lost, all for the sake of these policies! Policies that have not only damaged our company image with the masses but provoked multiple lawsuits from workers! Yet The Head of our massive enterprise has allowed spending to get this out of hand! Can someone please explain to me hoe this is remotely feasible?!

He shouted from across the long oak wood boardroom table, red-faced and clearly incensed. The Head himself however seemed unmoved and instituted of responding looks over to his son sitting in the chair to his left. He wasn't going to bother with this. Eyes cold with boredom, he stares Whitley down in a commanding way, giving the boy silent permission to speak. Catching his cue Whitley rises from his seat with papers in hand, ready to rebuke the claims. The forums were doctored to hide the truth, obviously and his selection was simple to act as a buffer between the two sides. Because who would dare question the young well-spoken future head of the company?

Whitley: The additional costs are from new expenses for necessary procedural and equipment overhauls in several departments due to changes brought on by changes in the closing of borders and loss of communication with a portion of our global facilities.

Jeffery’s anger calms for a moment as he processes the boy’s words. But it soon returned as more questions arose.

Jeffery: But this is simply too much of a discrepancy! An increase this high in over only a year is-

Whitley: Is necessary when the entire of the Atlas shipping fleet had to be switched from manned aircrafts to remote control aircrafts. There was also the cost of production of the new ships, the severance and retirement pay for the long-term pilots who were dismissed. One of whom’s family we are still forwarding a monthly salary and providing health insurance coverage due to the pilot going missing during his final delivery. Not to mention the added inflation on all of this due to Vale’s current economic and institutional restructuring.

He rebuffs elegantly, cutting off Jeffery and stopping the conversation in its tracks. Bringing up two tragedies, one of which directly relates to the company on a public level and the other on a practical level, gives the high-spirited pause and makes the bloat in cost seem more understandable. But this was just the beginning. Just like before Jeffery comes back with another fallacy in the situation and as the rest of the room looks on Whitley continues to stand his ground. It’s a war of attrition and the young man had more than a talking point and patience to win.

Unfortunately, Penny isn't so lucky. Just as the medics finish patching up the last of the injured the sound of loud stomping breaks through the icy winds. Sensing danger, Penny steps away aside and fires up her boots. She jets up into the air and looks in the direction where the sound is coming from, focusing in with her enhanced vision. What she finds is a horde of Ursai grimm coming their way! Most of the group is made of ursa minor but their numbers are high and the one ursa major among them was massive, towering over the other even from the back of the herd.

Penny: This is bad. At the rate they are traveling, we’ll only have five minutes before they reach us and less than fifty before they get to the city if they bypass us. Better cut them off now while we’re still out of sight.

Penny thought, activating her aura and focusing in on the ursa major before descending back down. She doesn't land immediately, instead, she hovers above the area steadily putting herself in a position where everyone can see and hear her.

Penny: Attention!!!

She shouts, and everyone stops in their tracks to look up at her. Giving of this air of authority Penny quickly briefs everyone on the situation.

Penny: A horde of Ursai is coming in from the east, twenty minor and one major!

The area irrupts into loud murmurs at the announcement, many of the injured looking frightened, and the able-bodied and uninjured quickly pick up their arms as Penny continues.

Penny: All the injured and incapacitated need to retreat, now. Everyone else, stay and prepare to engage. We’ll cut them off before they can reach the main road or city lines.

With no time to complain or even think the trooper replies with a simple “Yes, Ma’am!” before going to work. Within moments all the injured had packed into medical vans and were heading back to the city while the active soldiers ready themselves for a fight. As the horde comes into view, the soldiers form a firing line and take aim. Penny, still in the air, signals to those on the ground to hold.

Penny: I’m going to take down the major to break their formation, focusing on minors before they break away from the group.

The soldiers reply again with another “Yes, Ma’am,” and retrain their sights to the smaller Ursa minors. Just as they get into firing range Penny flies directly at the Ursa major. Discharging all her swords, Penny sends them flying at all four of the beast’s limbs before kicking it directly in its mask-shaped outer skull, hurling it back and onto its stomach. Confusion spreads through the horde as their leader falls to the ground, giving the soldiers a clear shot as they open fire. The ursa major doesn’t get a chance to get back up as its limbs lose all function from the deep cuts Penny slashed into the joints. It only gets a few seconds to flail about before Penny fires an energy blast at it, obliterating the large beast’s head in one blow. As the rest of its body crumbles away Penny refocuses onto the ursa minors. Almost half had already been mowed down by the firing line while a few had managed to break away. So, with a quickness like no other, Penny gives chase. Not a single one of these grimm were getting to the city on her watch, even if she had to fight them off by hand!

Busy in battle, Penny unknowingly misses her lunch call with Whitley. Not that he could answer, the meeting running so long that they had to have food brought in. The quality and quantity of which causing another agreement, one Whitley had to agree for while everyone else ate. By the end, the boy was exhausted and in much need of some reprieve but as always things don’t go his way. As his father’s seeing off his colleagues, promising to go out with the man and his associates for drinks that weekend, Olga approaches him. Her face is strewn as she tries to tell him something, but he just brushes her off. Sensing her disposition Whitley looks over at her and motions for her to wait at the side. She does just as the last man goes out the door and Jacques re-enters the manor.

Jacques: Gods, that was exhausting!

He signed, taking off his clip-on tie and tossing it to one of the maids who catches it on reflex. He stretches his arms as if he’s just had the most troublesome day, a low yawn escaping him as he does so.

Jacques: Someone fetch me my cinder box, I’ll be in my study. Don’t disturb me.

He commands, the staff present reply in unison with a respectful but monotone “Yes, Master.” Jacques huffs proudly at the display of obedience and leaves, the tension in the room deflating once he’s footsteps can no longer be heard. Now in the clear Olga rushes over to Whitley, the sternness in her eyes now mixed with a hint of anger.

Olga: Young Master! You need to come with me right now!

Whitley: What is it this time Olga?

He says in an aspirated tone, emotionally unwilling to take on any more tasks but unable to refuse. This attitude soon shifts into one of urgency as Olga clarifies her request.

Olga: Something has happened in the Mistress’s bedroom!

Whitley: What!

He exclaims, voice full of shock and worry at the prospect of something happening to his mother. Without any delay, Whitley and Olga head to Willow’s wing as quickly as possible. During the walk over Whitley’s mind races with possible scenarios that could have befallen his unfortunate and at times barely coherent mother. Thankfully none of them comes to pass as when they arrive Whitley is greeted by the sight of his mother in her bed asleep. She was dreaming peacefully while on the other side of the room stood, Yuko and Mary. Mary was standing there with her usual uninterested glaze while Yuko was holding down another maid in a tight grip. The young woman had her head down, her long dark blonde hair obscuring her face. Mary is the first to spot them and quietly strides up to them.

Mary: Evening Young Master.

Whitley: What’s going on Mary?

Mary: Mistress was experiencing more headaches then usual and decided to go to bed early tonight. After I put her down, I called for Olga and Yuko to help me tidy up “the usual mess.”

Her gaze falls to the floor, looking pointedly at the stray empty wine and bourbon bottles start on the floor. Whitley scowls at the sight and, not wanting to think about it, presses Mary to move on.

Whitley: Yes, and?

Mary: As we were cleaning that girl over there, I believe her name is Tabitha, came to the door with a basket of fresh laundry. She insisted on putting everything away herself, so I let her come in. But not long after I heard something fall from the closet and when I looked, I found her hiding this behind her back.

Mark holds up a silver brooch with a large red jewel at its center.

Whitley: That’s!

He takes the jewelry from her hand and holds it gingerly. He knew this brooch well for it once was pinned to the shirt of a man he deeply admired. The last person to make him feel secure and at peace before Penny. This was his beloved grandfather’s brooch; one he wore often when out of his armor and had been a treasure keepsake for his mother. One that never left her room since his death, store away in a jewelry box she kept at the back of her closet. And yet.

Whitley: How dare!

Whitley maintains a neutral face as he takes the jewelry piece and puts it back where it belongs. Pulling the jewelry box off the shelf, he stared at it for a moment. It was an old silver box shaped like a grand piano, a birthday gift for Willow after she’d gained an interest in the instrument all those years ago. It had no lock but why would it need one? No one was foolish enough to touch something so valuable and meaningful to the literal inherent of the estate. At least no one with sense.

Whitley: Yet some people are just so rotten even that doesn’t faze them.

He thought bitterly as he gently placed the brooch back with the other jewels and returned to the box to its hiding place. When he turns back around, there’s a burning anger from him that puts everyone but Mary on alert. Seeing any other Schnees this irritate was cause for concern but seeing the normally calm and courteous Whitley like this? That was almost mythical and completely unpredictable. Without a word, he walks toward the door, stopping at the door front then turning back to pointing out to the hallway. With his blazing gaze, he conveys a simple demand “Outside now,” which all four maids follow immediately, Yuko carrying Tabitha out by her arms as the attempted thief drags her feet. Whitley gently closes the door behind, eyes trained on his mother’s sleeping form to make sure the noise does wake her. On out in the hallway, Whitley marches up to Tabitha and Yuko.

Whitley: Hold her up.

He orders, Yuko complies and lifts the girl up onto her feet.

Whitley: Tabitha.

Addressing the theft, Whitley expected her to look up at him and try to explain herself. However, it seems that despite being shameless enough to steal a beloved keepsake from the person she’d called Mistress she somehow was too ashamed to look at the woman's child as he confronted her.

Whitley: Tabitha, look at me.

His voice was cold and menacing, his tone sending frightened shivers down the blonde’s spine. Scared of what could come to pass if she refused, Tabitha slowly raised her head though her gaze stayed on the ground. Annoyed by this Whitley tilts her head up by her chin using his index and middle fingers. He held her face so that her brown eyes have no choice but to stare into his deep blue which now bore terrifying hollowness as they stare back. It was so harsh Tabitha felt like she might cry. For a moment, the vast power difference between them became clear. Despite seeing him near daily most of the staff never fully recognized how much Whitley had grown in the last few years. His dignified demeanor and attitude made it hard to see him as anything more than the proper little young master. But right now, they could see he wasn’t the little boy he’d used to be but a young man with far more strength than most would ever realize.

Whitley: Collect your things from the maid’s quarters then turn in your resignation. You have one hour to leave this manor and never return.

Tabitha: But-

Whitley: And if you fail to do so I will have you arrested for theft and blacklisted across the kingdom before you can even post bail. Do you understand?

Tabitha nods in the affirmative erratically and Whitley finally lets her go. His gaze doesn’t leave her as Yuko lets her go, causing the blonde to fall to her knees before scrambling back up and running away.

Whitley: Yuko.

Yuko: Yes?

Whitley: Make sure she does as told and drag her out if she doesn’t follow through.

Yuko: Yes, Young Master.

Whitley: Olga, tell the head maid of Tabitha’s dismissal and why in detail. Don’t leave her any room to talk her way out of it.

Olga: Yes, Young Master.

With that, both maids leave to carry out their new orders. This left Mary and Whitley alone, the maid giving the boy a knowing look. It wasn’t often that she got to see the boy bare his fangs in person but when she did it only reminded her that she’d back the right one. The young heir could be just as cruel as he could be kind when needed, it’s one of the traits she’d first spotted in him. A testament to the type of leader he’d become when the time was right.

Whitley returns her look with a scoff before leaving, his mood utterly soured. He disliked acting harshly but had no mercy when ruthlessness was deserved. Still, the whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth as he wondered what could have happened if his mother had been awake to see such a scene.

Whitley: She’d would’ve been in hysterics if she’d seen that. Gods knows how she is about Grandfather’s things.

He muses as he strides back to his room, foreseeing another of work coming his way when arrives he takes the long routine back to prolong the inevitable. In his steps, his mind wanders to happier things, specifically the lovely redhead he’d been dying to see.

Down on Mantle’s streets, Penny is also taking the long way back as she finally heads home. Taking down the rest of the ursa minors took longer than expected as a pack of beowolves came in behind them. Now after getting back and getting all the reports done Penny’s workday is over and she could some much-needed rest!

Penny: Can’t wait to get home! I need something warm to eat, soft pajamas, and a nice bubble bath.

She mused, a tired yawn escaping her as she turned a corner. She’s walking past a retail store when she spots a familiar face up ahead. Decked out in her usual bright colors and roller skates in front of a burger shop was Neon Kat, holding a hefty bag on her tail while both her hands rested on her hips as she argued with a man on the street.

Neon: For the last time Mike, I am not interested!

She shouts, looking at the man, Mike, with obvious disgust. Mike doesn’t take this lying down and shouts back.

Mike: Bullshit! I know you want me!

Neon: Like Hell I do! You’re a piece of shit!

Mike: Ha! Says the slutty cat!

Neon: The fuck did just you call me?!

Mike: You heard me! Everyone knows you rotate through your dickbag teammates on the daily.

Neon: You son of bitch! Don’t you dare bring my team into this!

Their bickering attracts stares and whispers from passersby, but no one moves to intervene. Tired but not wanting her reckless friend to get in trouble, Penny goes to break them up. As she’s approaching Mike raises his hand to strike Neon, the cat faunas too caught up in yelling to notice. But as he brings it down, something grips on his wrist tight. It’s Penny’s hand, holding his wrist with strength that threatened to snap it in two.

Mike: What the-

Penny: Leave my friend alone.

Mike: Let go of me, you crazy bit-

Penny: Leave now before I make you leave.

She states eyes a glow as she grips him a little tighter. The pressure sends a wave of pain down his arm and Mike's face pales. She lets go when he pulls away, backing up into a wall before taking off in terror. Situation handle Penny turns Neon to check if she’s okay.

Penny: Are you okay Ne-

Neon: Penny Pop!

But it’s unnecessary as Neon quickly latches onto her in a bear hug.

Neon: What’s up girly! Whatcha doing around here?!

Penny: Walking home, I just clocked out for the night. What about you?

Neon: Gettin dinner for the gang.

She brings her tail around and shakes the bag of food in Penny’s face.

Neon: My period just started, and it gives me mad red meat and cheese cravings. And since it’s payday I thought I’d be nice treat my boys too!

Penny: That’s…more information than I really needed.

Neon: Whateves. Hey, you wanna come back to the barracks with me? We’re having a jam session to prep for a concert we got coming up.

Penny: Team FNKI’s performing again?

Neon: Yeah, Bossman Iron Pants says morale had been tanking all over town and asked us to dish out some of our special brand of funk to people’s spirits up!

Penny tilts her head, getting the jest of what she means but losing bits of it among the slang.

Penny: Bossman? Do you mean General Ironwood?

Neon: Duh! Who else would I mean?

She chuckles, promoting Penny to roll her eyes and lightly shove her off her shoulders.

Neon: So, you in or what?

Penny: Sorry, Neon but I have to get home soon. My dad’s making pasta for dinner, and I need to get there before it gets cold.

Neon: Aw, what! That’s so lame!

Penny: Maybe to you but it’s not to me. Good night Neon.

She waves Neon goodbye before continuing her trek home.

Neon: Hey wait!

Neon rolls in front of her, blocking Penny’s path.

Penny: What is it?

Neon: Just give a sec! I still owe you for scaring off that douchebag.

Penny: It’s fine, Neon, that’s my job.

Neon: Still! You’ve had me and my crew’s backs for a minute now and feels like I owe you something for all the trouble.

Penny: It’s really not a problem, you and the rest of team FNKI are my friends and comrades. I’ll always be there for you if you need me.

Neon: See, that’s what I’m talking about! You’re just too damn sweet, Penny.

She chirps while pinching Penny’s for her unbelievable cuteness. Penny lets her have her fun for a few seconds before brushing her hand away.

Penny: Quit it.

Neon: Sorry, couldn’t help it. All those freckles on your chunky cheeks just makes your face look so squishable!

Penny: Okay? If that’s all then I really should-

Neon: No wait! Just give me a second to think.

Neon takes a moment then comes up with a brilliant stupid idea. She turns around and kneels down in front of Penny, putting her hand behind her back with her palms facing up.

Neon: Jump on!

Penny: Excuse me?

Neon: Get on, I’m gonna blade you home!

Penny: Seriously?

Neon: Yeah! It’s the least I can do!

Penny: You do realize my skeletal structure is made of metal, right?

Neon: Yeah, I know. But I also know you don’t weigh half as much as you pretend you do. Now get on!

Penny: (sigh) You are truly infuriating Neon Kat.

Against her better judgment gets on her back. She wraps her arms around Neon’s shoulders and neck and puts her feet onto her hips. Once she’s securely on her, Neon asks Penny for directions to her house. She enters her usual route into Neon’s scroll, and they set off. It’s a surprisingly quaint ride as they roll the streets at a leisurely pace.

Neon: Having fun back there?

Penny: A little, I haven’t been on someone’s back like this in a while.

Neon: Really? Not a fan of piggybacks?

Penny: No, it’s more out of independence. After I started walking, I just preferred to move on my own. Before that, I was mostly sedentary so when I got the chance to move on my own I got overexcited and I didn't really rely on anyone for transportation.

Neon: Cool, walk your own path sister! But don’t forget that there’s always a helping hand there if you need it.

Penny: I know.

They continue rolling down the streets when Neon gets another bright idea.

Neon: Hey, wanna see something cool?

Penny: Sure.

Neon: Okay, hold on tight!

Penny: Wait, what are you going to-WHOA!

Penny shouts as Neon activates her semblance, propelling them forward at a high speed under a haze of rainbow light. Despite being used to high velocity from flying Penny had never moved like this on the ground. She can feel every bit of wind resistance, every crack and bump on the sidewalk as they glide through town. It’s a bit terrifying but also thrilling! Penny can’t help but smile as they zoom, Neon laughing aloud when she catches her grin. Before she knows it they’re right in front of her house, Neon taking a few spins around a light post to slow down before coming to a full stop.

Neon: Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our destination, please take all bags and luggage as you depart, and thank you for riding the Neon rails!

She quips while putting Penny down, the girl giggling as she gets her feet on the ground.

Penny: Thanks Neon! That was so much fun!

Neon: Any time girl! Hit me up if you’re ever looking to party, peace!

Penny: Bye Neon.

She waves her goodbye while Neon throws her a peace sigh before rolling away. Home at last, Penny gets out her keys and unlocks the front door. She walks in and is welcomed back by the scent of tomato sauce and garlic bread, her dad hard at work in the kitchen.

Penny: I’m home!

She announces, catching her dad’s attention as he’s pulling the garlic bread out of the oven.

Pietro: Welcome back, Sweetpea! You ready for dinner?

Penny: You know I am! I haven’t eaten since this morning!

Pietro: Well then put your bags down and set the table. I got a whole pot of spaghetti and extra big meatballs!

Penny: Okay!

She chirps, pulling off her backpack and sitting down to take off her boots. Her mood had lifted so much higher from where it was, she couldn’t help but kinda feel lucky.

Penny: Despite everything, today was very eventful and exciting. I got a lot done, protected many, and even had a little fun. Give them circumstances, this is as good as a day like this could get.

She thought while placing her left boot to the side. Before she starts on the other one Penny hears a notification come in on her scroll. She opens and once she reads the words on the screen, she can’t help but jump up in joy! However, her landing falls flat as the height difference between her barefoot and single boot leaves her off balance, making her fall to the floor. But that barely faxes her as her giddiness sends her into a giggling feat, eyes clouded over and absolutely lovestruck as she re-reads the text.

Whitley: [Are you free this weekend?]

#fanfic #rwby fanfiction #penny polendina #rwby #whitley schnee #pietro polendina #neon katt #jaques schnee #fanfiction #angst #cute #beta testers #sorry it took a while #broken machines

10 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 8 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 5: Maiden Maintenance

Sunny mornings are often thought of as good omens. Clear skies with few clouds in view are well known as the first indicators of a nice productive day! Especially in the frosted landscape of Solitas.

Unfortunately for Penny, the only part of that sentiment to apply to her today was the productive part. As she spent her morning chasing a bank robber down the street!

She had gotten the call during her usual morning patrol, assistance needed in an ongoing robbery. Never one to turn down a call to duty and not in this best mood already Penny dashed over as quickly as she could. But by the time she arrived on the scene, the situation had already reached its climax; hostages were safe and most of the robberies were cuffed with a few quick-footed crocks trying to make a getaway. Seeing this Penny went after the bulkiest of the runners, giving chase on foot. For as big as he was, the robber was light-footed but that didn’t faze Penny one bit. No, she could keep up with and outran almost anyone and was closing the distance between them less than a block into the chase.

As he runs through a busy crosswalk the robber looks back only to see Penny hot on his heels. He grimaces at the sight of her then runs full speed ahead. He gave it his all, but Penny was gaining on him quickly. She was within arm's reach of him and was just waiting for a good chance to grab him. Panicked the crock uses the only shoot he’s got left, his semblance. Right as Penny’s about to grab him the robber’s aura activates; his body flashes bright purple and he slams himself into the side of a nearby building! Penny stops in her tracks, confused by the crock’s sudden act of self-destruction but goes completely wide-eyed when she sees that he’s sticking to the wall!

This was an odd one, though semblances came in all kinds of varieties but there would always be some that were a shock to witness.

The robber notices her surprised expression and childishly blows raspberries at her before skittering up the wall like a gecko. He seems very pleased with himself as he climbs up to the roof, so much so that he never notices the hum of Penny’s rocket boots turning on. Once he’s made his way to the top, the robber looks around for building closes and runs to jump over before his pursuer has a chance to catch up only to find Penny hovering over the edge waiting for him. Penny looked at him blankly, her face was not cheerful nor angry or even determined to catch him, rather she looked disappointed. Despite the crook’s efforts, Penny had been genuinely disappointed that he’d thought he had a single chance to outrun her.

Penny: Please don’t try to run again. I am not in a good mood this morning and don’t want to make it worse by watching you struggle to get away when we both know you can’t.

Despite her warning, the robber makes a break for it, running to the other side of the building to try and chance the long jump across. Penny sighs and flies directly toward him, picking the robber up by the back of his shirt and hovering them back to the ground. By the time she handed him over to the police, the thug’s struggling had long ceased, and his fighting spirit was fervently crushed.

Penny: I warned him.

Penny thought as she waved goodbye to the officers and returned to her usual patrol. Normally getting the job done so quickly and efficiently would lift her mood but right her mind was too heavy for the light comfort of a job well to even make a dent. It had been heavy since the night before, after her bedtime call with Whitley.

The evening before, instead of the normal calm comfy winding down Penny was met with her dear love looking absolutely exhausted with hampered breathing.

Penny: Oh my god! Whitley are you okay?! What happened to you?!

Despite seeing her panicked state Whitley seems to be comforted by the sight, as if the mere sight of her brought him peace of mind. But Whitley wasn’t careless, he wouldn’t just sit there and let Penny work herself into hysteria over him of course. A good boyfriend knew when to cut the joke and this one was short-lived.

Whitley: Calm down, dear I’m fine. A little tired but completely fine.

He states, his tone soft and soothing as it always is when he tries to calm her. But the distance between his words and his appearance is too much for Penny to let it go.

Penny: But you look exhausted!

Whitley: I know but I’m alright! I’m not injured nor in danger, I’ve just had a very, very long day. One I’d like to share with you. But only if you calm down first.

He says, giving her a knowing but comforting look. Penny knew that look, he wouldn’t say anything and kill the conversation if she couldn’t compose herself. So, she takes a few deep breaths and steadies her breathing, adjusting her sitting posture to appear more relaxed.

Penny: Okay I’m calm. Now please tell me what happened today.

She asks softly but firmly and knowing her temperament Whitley obliges. He gives a lightly censored version of the day’s events, redacting the gorier details like the blatant talk of corruption, illicit behaviors, and his acts of corporate espionage. Unfortunately, this leaves him spinning a tale of his day as an unpaid overworked servant to his father and his father’s lazy friends. And by the end, Penny’s so fuming mad that her face is burning red.

And why wouldn’t she be? Who won’t when faced with such an appalling tale of outrageous audacity?!

Honestly, how dare he! How dare Jacques treat Whitley like this! He had more than enough servants capable of doing all that and more than enough money to just hire someone for the day if he had to but no! He forced his own son to do manual labor and errands all day without so much as a proper thanks!

Penny: Does that monster really not have a single bit of respect for his own children?!

Penny fumed internally. Her anger is so visible that Whitley quickly backtracks to keep the conversation from souring.

Whitley: Overall, it was a rather boring day and I’m just happy it’s over.

He chirps, but the damage has been done, and Penny’s anger is at a boiling point.

Penny: So, you’ve been working hard as a bag handler and helper all day long and gained absolutely nothing from it?

Penny questions, her voice calm but cold as she tries to let her fury freeze over before it overwhelms her. Whitley tries to calm her again, weaseling his words around to ease the harshness of his situation.

Whitley: Yes, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Dragging me out of the house to waste my time while he goes off to play with his friends is par for the course with Father.

Penny: Are you fine with being treated like that?!

Whitley: No, but that’s just the way things are.

Penny: But that’s so-

Whitley: That’s. Just. The. Way. Things. Are.

He cuts her off, a tune of strictness behind every syllable he speaks. And just like that the sinking feeling returned and Penny’s chest felt heavy with guilt. This was yet another non-negotiable fact of Whitley’s life that she could do nothing about, and God did it burn! He was suffering for no good reason and was just putting up with it and expected her to do the same!

No, it was more like he knew there was nothing they could do about his situation and hoped she would ignore it. But how could she?! Penny was a born, built, and raised protector! She protected people wherever she went no matter what! But right now—

Penny: I know but…. (sigh) I know, sorry for bringing it up.

-Right now, that wasn’t in the realm of possibility. This was a problem too deep and multilayered for Penny to solve on her own or even attempt to solve, no matter how much she wanted to.

Whitley: And I’m sorry for worrying you, I know you do it out of love but still it’s not worth seeing you stress like this. Especially over something so minor as this.

His voice returns to his soft center as if to verbally caress Penny’s concerns and trepidations in place of his actual touch. It works, unfortunately, and Penny feels her anger fade from her mind. Whitley sees the shift in her temperament and takes it as a chance to change the subject.

Whitley: Speaking of stress, how have you been? Are you sleeping well?

He turns the conversation to Penny’s sleeping habits, leaving the previous talking points by the wayside. Though dropped at the moment the implications and worries brought up by it linger in Penny’s heart long after their talk. The feeling of helplessness weighed heavy on her heart throughout the night and their morning call only made it worse. After a night’s rest, Whitley acted completely unbothered by what had transpired the previous day, that was the norm for him but drove Penny crazy! How could he just pretend that everything’s okay?! How could he be so lax under such terrible circumstances?!

Penny sighs as she dwells on her dear love’s condition, frustration clouding her thoughts so badly she wanted to scream.

Penny: Why can’t he just be honest with me? He knows I would protect as much as possible so why won’t he let me?! Why won’t-

Mary: If a simple investigation into his actions could send someone like Jacques away, it would have happened years ago. But it hasn’t.

Mary’s voice ripples through Penny’s mind, cooling her frustration back into guilt.

Penny: Of course, he wouldn't. It’s not like I can actually do anything about it.

She lets out a deep sigh of defeat, the alarm on her scroll bringing her back to reality. It was time to head up to the Huntsman Academy for lunch and her after-noon duties. She heads up to the floating city as per usual. Whitley had told her that morning he couldn’t make their lunch due to a work backlog so today Penny chose to eat in the cafeteria with the rest of the academy recruits. As she enters the cafeteria and is welcomed with the usual bevy of attention and greetings from students and huntsmen. Penny greets them back, trying to match their energy despite her unfortunate mood. Once she’s in the lunch line Penny goes for something simple, a grilling chicken sandwich with a side of fries and a cup of water.

With her tray filled Penny looks around for a place to sit down and eat. There were plenty of open seats and many people were more than willing to sit with her but knowing the tight schedule she had to keep Penny decided to sit alone. She didn’t want to start a conversation with someone just to cut them off when she had to leave. She sits down at a small table with starts picking at her fries, they’re decent fries warm crisp, and salty but nothing to write home about. She’s just about to take a bite of her sandwich when someone takes the only other seat at the table and sits down. Out of politeness, Penny looks up to greet them only to be met with a mountain of food blocking her view. Three trays topped with huge servings of what looked to be every main dish served in the cantina. Sandwiches, pizza, pork cutlets, hotdogs, fries, and even plenty of vegetables were stacked up so high Penny had to get up to see the holder of this huge haul. To her none surprise, it's one of the newly instated huntsmen Big Eddy, otherwise known as Edward Price, stuffing his face with a cheeseburger. He was a mustard-blonde 22-year-old man, 6’2”, and as buff as he was chubby as he was buff due to his semblance. Material Mold, when active soft tissue like skin, and fat would take on a rubbery texture and stretch with the same viscosity. Harder tissue like bone and muscle turned to pliable iron with extreme durability. The friction and energy from this power would burn through his tissue so fast it nearly killed him at least once a year. To prevent this Ed had to work hard to gain a certain body type to handle his powers and a hefty appetite to maintain it. He was a rubber man with a hard center, though his attitude was much the inverse. His resting face was stiff but lit up once anyone got his attention, it was jawing but also oddly endearing.

Penny: Hello Edward.

Ed stops mid-bite, sallows, and then leans over to look at Penny. She gives him a small wave of acknowledgment and in an instant a big smile overtakes his soft face.

Big Ed: Oh, hey Penny, didn’t see you there!

Penny: Understandable given what you were carrying.

They both glance up at his food tower.

Big Ed: Yeah, well when you’ve got a quintuple-speed metabolism you tend to need a food mountain to get through the day!

Penny: I understand and while I don’t mean to disburse your meal, I actually was hoping to sit here by myself today so if you could-

???: EDDY!!!

An energetic voice cuts through their conversation and a young woman comes running straight towards him. It was Sienna Cersei, Edward’s teammate and apparent childhood friend. Her long bust pink braid practically wipes against Ed’s back as Sienna wraps an arm around his shoulders and holds on tight as she jumps into the seat next to him.

Sienna: I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Where ya been?!

Eddy: Just eating.

Sienna: Well duh! I meant why didn’t you come sit with me? You know I need my fry tax!

She quips before digging her mitts into Ed’s fries, pulling out a handful, and gobbling it up right in front of him.

Eddy: Hey!

He reaches over and tries to get his food back but Sienna dodges him with her swift movement. Playful giggling as they continue to roughhouse like children, leaving Penny to eat and watch them in silence. Their cheerful tomfoolery soured her meal with a slight hit of envy at their obvious affection for one another. She couldn’t do that sort of thing with Whitley; she couldn’t even make sure he had eaten anything until the evening. It was a bittersweet but welcomed distraction, now she could finish her food in peace. By the time she was done, the two friends had turned from play fighting to talking as they shared Ed’s food pile. Neither notice Penny leave to put away her tray and leave the cafeteria for her next task.

In a secured building section off from the rest of the academy Penny stood in front of a pair of steel doors. She waits patiently staring at the doors blankly until they open, revealing Winter standing on the other side. They give each other a glance of acknowledgment and proceed down the hallway. Throughout the security checks, Penny doesn’t as much as a glance in Winter's direction. Her resemblance to Whitley, her experience with the situation, and her idleness towards it was a mixed bag of frustration she couldn't be bothered with today. No, her mind needed to calm and clear right now as she faced her most arduous task of the week. Entering into the maiden’s building, they get to work preparing her lunch, Winter handling the food, and Penny making Freya’s tea.

When they enter Freya’s sterile bedroom, they find her lying on her bed reading. Her book is sat up on a stand with a robotics page-turner stationed atop it, moving the pages and holding them in place with a push of a button. Her eyes are focused but hollow as she reads the text, the contents passing through her mind like water over a stone.

Penny: Good afternoon, Ms. Freya.

Penny greets her, her voice is soft and low so as to not ruin the elder woman’s mood. Though her own mood wasn’t too great Penny couldn’t risk upsetting Freya and causing another mini blizzard in this small, closed space. Freya meets Penny’s gaze with a small smile, she looks down to see the fresh cup of tea in her hand which Penny is quick to offer.

Penny: Here’s your tea, Winter will be over with your meal in a moment.

She chimes holding out the cup to Freya, the frail woman slowly taking it from her hands. It had been cooled to a manageable temperature, cold enough to drink now but not enough to be cold by the time she finished it. She takes a long snip before giving an approving nod and putting it down on her bedside table, returning to her book. Now closer Penny takes a better look at it, it’s an old book of poetry. The cover read “Of Light and Sorrow”. Leather backed with many age marks and scuffs on the edges of the pages from years of fingertips flipping through it. Despite those flaws the book looked very well cared for, the spine had been rebound with a different color thread than its original binding but not a single page seemed it be missing or even slightly crumpled. Even long after everything word had been read Freya had still kept it close, beloved trinket of her past. The gentle air she had while reading sparked Penny’s curiosity.

Penny: That’s a very interesting-looking book, though it seems quite old.

Freya: It is old, over 30 years old.

She replies not looking away from the page she’s on, Penny almost flinching at the sound of her voice. Freya rarely spoke and each time she did was a toss-up as to whether it ended well or not. Right now her tone was muted and calm, an indication of a more lucid mood, so Penny proceeds.

Penny: Wow, that’s a long time, I’m impressed you could keep it in such good condition. You must really love it.

Freya: In a way.

Penny: Where did you get it?

Freya: It was a gift, from before.

Her gaze wanders toward her paintings, and Penny immediately realizes what she’s referring to.

Freya: The author, he gave it to me at a gala, the last one I would ever attend. He told me how much had moved him, that he had seen one of my pieces during a very dark time in his life and it inspired him to finish his book, to keep writing….to live again.

She weakly caresses the book’s spine, eyes gleaming with tenderness and longing.

Penny: So, your art saved his life?

Freya: That’s what told me. He said my talent was something that could change the world, that he wouldn't be the last person I’d rescue from death’s grasp. Young and foolish as I was, I didn’t truly understand what him then. I laughed at the thought of being any kind of savior to anyone… but I suppose he was right in the end.

Penny: Just not in the way he thought you would.

Freya: No, not all. But still…I remembered his words so clearly. When I learned to fight, to control this power, the never-ending storm inside of my soul. It helped me make sense of it all.

She signs softly, picks up her teacup, and takes a few more long sips. The warmth of it helps her fragile reflex as she and Penny continue to converse.

Penny: I’ve actually never heard about any of the missions you were assigned to. What were they? That is if you want to talk about it.

Penny corrects her question before she can even finish asking it, knowing one wrong word could trigger the withered veteran. Freya gives her a look of consideration, touched by her concern for mental wellbeing, and continues.

Freya: Most aren’t that interesting; others are things a child like you shouldn’t be hearing of anytime soon. But there is one tale I never grow tired of telling.

Penny: What is it?

Freya: Well, you know the wall around Mantle?

Penny: Yes, of course. It keeps the lower city safe from Grimm and the heavier weather conditions. It’s also a big part of the city’s heating system.

Freya: Well, that wasn’t how it was before.

Penny: it wasn’t?

Freya: No, back when I was young the wall was just a wall. Made of wood, iron, and concrete. No fancy heating or air filters.

Penny: Oh.

Freya: That was until the council and some of the Atlas being wig got together to make a better one. Took a lot of time and manpower to get it done without too many issues. I spent days guarding the city from a distance while they tore the thing down and put the new one up, protecting the builders from Grimm and pushing the winds back to keep them warm. Keep the frost of the material too, so much of it was from Vale and the quality made it worth its weight in gold.

Penny: Wait, there were materials imported from Vale?

Freya: Yup. It was a hot topic back then, shipping all that in from so far away for the former main city. Having to rely on outside help to protect the founding city was a huge blow to the pride of a lot of Solitas patriots. Still, that fancy Vale concrete mix was good stuff, a special batch, made thicker and stronger than any other but breathable in a way that help trap heat on the inside.

Penny: So, it was made specifically with Mantle’s needs in mind? No wonder it’s lasted this long.

Freya: Yeah, at least that’s what I was told. Anyway, that was the first time I felt that I suited my fate. The first time I really felt like the great hero I was assumed to be.

Penny: Well, it does sound like something a great hero would do. Standing guard while their people take cover against monsters and even nature itself.

Freya: Though looking back, I think it made me a little cocky. Did so well that I thought I was invincible, forgot how hard it was to fail… to lose people to force even a maiden couldn’t control.

Her eyes darken, memories of painful defeats and unfortunate deaths washing over her. To which Penny extends a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

Penny: But you keep trying. Despite your failings, you continued to fight despite the dangers.

Freya: That’s true, but… I always thought I could do more. (sign) but I suppose that’s just part of the human condition, always wanting to believe we can save everyone and everything even if it’s out of our hands.

Penny tense, eyes locked onto Freya as the sentiment of her words bleach themselves into her subconscious.

Penny: Yeah, it really.

Winter: Excuse me.

Winter’s voice breaks the atmosphere as both the young protector and the aged hero look over and see her standing next to Penny. She’s holding a tray of warm food, face in its usual neutral state as she presents it to Freya.

Winter: It's time for Freya’s lunch.

Penny: Right.

Penny moves aside for Winter though Freya seems far less enthusiastic to engage with Winter than she was with her. From there the section goes as normal, Freya is fed and given her medication, and the two soldiers help her with her daily exercises. When her shift is up Penny gives Freya a friendly wave goodbye and takes a glance at the painting of the girl in the mountains. She still looked so lonely to Penny and thinking about where Freya’s mind would have been when she painted it Penny couldn’t help but wonder if she was meant to seem so lost.

Maybe even overwhelmed by it all.

Getting lost in her musings seems to calm her worried mind as she closes her workday down in Mantle with her daily reports. As she leaves the station to make her walk home, Penny looks up to the floating city Atlas. She reached an arm out up to it in the direction of a familiar manor, even if it was too far into to see from here. Her eyes shine with a sense of determination and stubbornness as she lowers it and begins her journey home.

#penny polendina #whitley schnee #fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwby #beta testers #fanfiction #angst #cute #sorry it took a while #writer's block sucks!!!!#i’m still alive

6 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 9 months

Note

Do you take requests for RWBY ship drables?

Well, @jade-rosepine I’ve actually been thinking of opening a writing commission or an art for-writing trade if someone can draw the cast of my broken machines story in the RWBY Ice Queendom style as that’s the style I visualize the story in.

2 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 9 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 4: Campaign Carnival

That night after their date and the following day were surprisingly peaceful for Whitley. With little to do, since he blasted through all his work for a carefree Saturday, Whitley had some time on his hands for the rest of the weekend. Enough time to get a good amount of sleep, check some areas that the staff companies about for maintenance, and finish up a book on his reading list. What’s more, with Jaques out of the house the atmosphere in the manor was far calmer, and everyone’s spirits were greatly calmed by the lack of this major stressor. The assurance of having no stern eyes looking down on everyone, no unreasonable requests coming in every few hours, and no tantrums to clean up after for two days was a blessing the Schnee manor was rarely afforded. The kitchen staff especially took advantage of his absence, focusing on making more appropriate meals for the Mistress and Young Master with him away. Willow was snuck detoxifying food via extra snacks and hearty soups and Whitley was given denser meals and even a nice slice of shortcake made by Sue. It was a welcomed surprise, one which Whitley bragged to Penny about later that night much to her jealousy.

Things were incredibly peaceful until the rotten apple returned to spoil the bunch and life returned to business as usual, ie suffering. Whitley continued his stringent work/study schedule, lightly rejuvenated by his time away from home. He had expected the week to go as normal with him buried under a mountain of work until in the middle of the week Jacques suddenly call him to his study. It was an unwelcome summons to say the less and Whitley’s nerves were wrecked as he walked down the halls to his father's study.

His plan had worked flawlessly, no one had noticed he was gone for a few hours, so what could this be about? A thousand possibilities run through his mind as he enters the study, Jacques sat at his desk waiting for him.

Whitley: Father.

He addresses, voice calm and collected despite the emotional minefield he’s stepped into. Jacques looks at him with the same empty gaze he’d given all his children since the façade of their happy family shared years ago.

Jacques: Ah, there you are. Come sit down.

Whitley complies, sitting down in the chair directly in front of Jacques’s desk. His gaze is soft but cold and neutral look of calm indifference masking his internal panic as they engage in conversation.

Jacques: So, I see you’ve been keeping up with all your tasks.

Whitley: Yes Father.

Jacques: Good, and it seems that the work I left for you over the weekend was completed to standard.

Whitley: It was double-checked and filed alphabetically as requested.

Jacques: And you also made headway on some of the maintenance work around the manor.

Whitley: It was mostly minor work, I just got it out of the way so it wouldn’t become a nuisance in the future.

He replies with a charming smile still unsure what this was all about but not uneasy enough to show his hand. Jacques continues to stare at him with indifference as he pulls something out from the top drawer of his desk.

Jacques: Since you seem to have gotten a good handle on things here, then you can manage some fieldwork.

He states, sliding over a stack of business cards to Whitley.

Jacques: Set tomorrow’s work aside and get plenty of sleep tonight, you’ll be accompanying me in the morning for an outing.

Whitley tenses slightly in shock, face never falling as he replies calmly with another “Yes, Father” before being dismissed. When he returns to his room, he finds three sets of clothing resting on his bed, an informal itinerary for the next day's activities resting on top of the pile.

Whitley: Guess I’m on lackey duty again.

Whitley laments before looking over the schedule and attire. This was the other most arduous part of his job, following behind his father and acting as his unpaid assistant while he negotiated with other elites. Honestly, he was more of an errand boy than anything else with skills to match. A gopher who served his master and his associates without fail. It’s humiliating work but he had no choice but to play the obedient dog as always. He reorganizes the schedule and sets the clothing in a small suitcase before taking a shower. After he’s fully ready for bed Whitley retrieves his secret scroll and seeks solace in his greatest comfort. The scroll only rings three before the image of pajama-clad Penny appears on the screen.

Penny: Good evening, Whitley. How was your day?

She greets him, the sound of her voice pushing back all his stress away and warming his heart up from its frigid state.

Whitley: Thank God, I have her.

He coos to himself before expressing his delight to the girl herself as their evening conversation begins. Whitley sleeps soundly that night, focusing on Penny’s pleasant chatter over thinking about the hoops he’d be jumping through for his father the next day. When morning breaks, he texts her an explanation of what he’d be doing that day and to not contact him unless he reached out first.

Penny: [But what if you get hurt or lost in the city?]

She typed worriedly uncomfortable with the idea of Whitley being out and about with someone as cold hearted as Jacques regardless of the man being his parent or not. Whitley chuckles at the obvious concern in her words, typing his reply with a soft smirk.

Whitley: [I’ll be fine, the man can’t afford to lose me. Not when I’m his last chance at upholding the family legacy.]

He reassures, confident in the one aspect of himself his father truly held in worth.

Penny: [Okay but call me if anything happens. I’ll do everything I can to help you even if I can’t be there myself.]

Penny texts back, begrudgingly accepting the current situation. Whitley’s smiles deepen at her kind words, her endless need to comfort and protect him giving him strength as he prepares for the day ahead.

Instead of his usual outfit, Whitley dawned a white long sleeve button up and a pair of gray golf shorts. He parts the simple look with a blue and black plaid pattern woolen sleeveless sweater vest, matching high socks, black golf shoes and a plaid golf cap. It’s a classic golfer’s look, or at least decent caddy attire.

Whitley: Befitting for the unofficial attendant.

He griped mentally as he gathers up the necessities for today’s travels. A change of clothes, his laptop, scroll, and a pack of business cards are his arsenal for this excursion. He debates taking his burner scroll just to have some way of distracting himself during this nonsense but resists to prevent a possible slip-up in front of his father. With everything he needs in hand, Whitley leaves his room and heads out into the hallways of the manor. He doesn’t even think of going to a dining room or kitchen for breakfast, no, there was no time for that when Jaques requested his presence in the outside world. Dashing to the main entrance, the family limo sat in wait for them out front with the driver standing at the rear door. Whitley walks outside, the driver opens the door as he approaches.

Whitley: Morning Andrew.

Andrew: Young Master.

They greet each other in passing, Whitley sledding into his seat in the limo and Andrew closing the door behind him. Whitley looks over his schedule again as he waits for his father to arrive.

Whitley: Okay first is golf with the star of the stock market Alvin Krämer and his colleagues, then a late lunch with Father’s lacke- (tsk)-Senior Broad member Bradley Bergmann and finally a meeting with the food mogul Matthew Kraus. A whole day of languishing around behind Father while he butters up skivvy donors and lallygags with his revolting pals, how grand!

He thinks sarcastically, waiting patiently for his father to arrive. When the man does finally step out of the house, a maid holding a suitcase and golf bag in tow. While she puts the bag in the trunk Jacques berates the driver for parking too far from the front door before getting into the back seat. He sits down opposite Whitley, looking over the boy’s appearance for any flaws. Feeling his father’s harsh gaze Whitley smiles at Jacques and covertly looks him over in turn. The older man was dressed in a golf shirt, long plaid pants, pro golfer shoes, a black golf cap, a flashy branded watch, and golf gloves. It was a true imitation of the proverbial pro golfer look with none of the skill or charisma to back it up.

Jacques: Did you bring everything?

He asks bluntly, finding his appearance acceptable and moving on to the task at hand.

Whitley: Yes, Father. I have everything we need for today.

He replies, perfectly practiced to the point it felt like breathing. Jacques accepts this and soon the limo’s engine roars to life, and they drive away in silence. Jacques has his head buried in his scroll for the duration while Whitley does some light arm exercises in preparation for what was to come. When they arrive at their destination Whitley takes his things and gets out, heading to the trunk to grab his father’s bags as well. It’s a clear day, the sun is beaming down, and the heat from the city’s air system was set a dense temperature. Sunlight heats the gravel of the parking lot and bounces off the windows of the country club in front of him. The building is massive, the exterior had a modern design with a little rustic color palette and a few nicely placed water features. The club, however, is completely dwarfed by the enormous greenery of the golf courses around it. It would be the picture of summer if not for the icy mountains in the far distance.

Whitley pulls down his hat to shield his eyes from the rays as Jacques joins him on the walking path and they head to the club. He keeps a few steps behind Jacques as they enter the building and check in, taking the chance to look around. It wasn’t often that Jacques went golfing, but the man insisted on keeping an open membership despite it being so costly. The place hadn’t changed much, the décor was still a cozy modern lounge layout with some classical marbling and art pieces laced throughout to add an air of class.

Whitley: Hardly worth a 4,000,000-lien joining fee and the 200,000-lien monthly membership fee if you ask me but I suppose if you have the money splurging on a hobby is a no-brainer.

He thought as his father walked them past the reception desk and into the main building of the clubhouse. They pass several of the amenities and several bars before stopping in front of the restaurant area where Krämer and a few of his cohorts sat eating brunch at a table right beside a large bay window overlooking the course.

Jacques: Alvin!

He calls out, grabbing the attention of the salt-and-pepper-haired man who whirls his head around to see him.

Alvin: Jacques! Get over here, you beautiful bastard!

Krämer waves them over, his colleagues pulling up chairs for the two white-haired men to sit at the table. One chair was added in the middle, and another was placed at the furthest part of the table. Without even thinking Whitley takes the furthest chair while Jacques is integrated into the group of older gentlemen. They shot the breeze almost immediately as Jacques sits down, being welcome to the table with cheers and back pats.

Alvin: Thanks for coming out. I know you’ve been all tied up with your campaign.

Jacques Well any good candidate knows when to talk a break. Besides, I’ve been workshopping a few policies I’d like to enact once I’m in office and thought you’d like to hear them firsthand while things are still in motion.

Krämer immediately sits up from his causal posture and stares at Jacques with a momentary look of surprise. The surprise quickly fades into a dastardly look of intrigue, Krämer flashing a toothy grin at the implementation of what Jacques had to say.

Alvin: Really now?

He beckons while rubbing his thick bread and lightly tapping the table’s edge with his fingertips.

Alvin: Why don’t we talk about this out on the green? It’s a beautiful day to play a few holes and chat.

Jacques: Of course, why do you think I brought my good cubs?!

He jests, sending the men into a short fit of hearty laughter as they rise to leave for a golfing section.

Jacques: Whitley!

Jacques calls out, Whitley standing up as if perfectly on quo.

Whitley: Yes, Father?

Jacques: Go grab some carts and get our clubs, we’ll be waiting by the smoking dean.

Whitley: Yes, Father.

Jacques: Remember to get the newer ones with the heated seats, I don’t want to get road rash driving up the course.

He demands before exiting with all the other elder gentlemen, leaving Whitley behind with all the luggage. The young man sighs softly before getting on with his forcefully assigned task, requesting a dolly from the front desk, pilling the golf bags onto it, and outside where he grabs a few carts. After getting secure Whitley drives each of the carts out to the men as they puff on cigars, doing his best to avert the clouds of smoking as he walks back to get the next cart. When the groups got all their gear and transport, they head out into the course. The next few hours are leisurely for the wealthy men as they golf and talk shop. Meanwhile, Whitley is the silent caddy, getting things from the carts when told to, passing around food and drink they’d order, and retrieving or giving the golf balls a little nudge when someone fell short of a hole-in-one. His father is the worst offender, being so terrible at this game that Whitley is traversing past bushes and the edges of ponds to get the balls back. As he’s coming back from digging another one out of a sand trap Whitley incidentally sneaks up behind Krämer and Jacques and catches a bit of their conversation.

Jacques: So, we’re in agreement then?

Alvin: Yeah, I’ll back you so long as you do something about that pesky corporate stock limit bill once you’ve got your council seat.

Jacques: Understood, I look forward to your donation and thank you for contribution to the cause.

They shake hands, the rotten glee from the successful shady dealings gleaming in their corked smiles. Whitley bites his tongue, forces back a wretch as he watches them.

Of course, that’s what they were here for.

Seeing his father on his sleazy antics was predictably disturbing but Whitley doesn’t let that show at all. He walks around the brush and approaches them from a different angle, rejoining without anyone suspecting he’s heard a thing. He returns the ball to his father and is quickly shooed away so the men can continue their game. Whitley sits back at the carts and contemplates the information he’d just obtained.

Whitley: That bill is meant to prevent large corporations from overtaking too many smaller businesses and creating monopolies to dominate the market. Father barely skirted it when he started “expanding” the SDC. If he gets a chance to remove it entire-

His thoughts pause, the lower of dystopian horror this act could cause making his stomach hurt more than his hunger. This could be really bad for the whole kingdom if not the world as Atlas’s businesses makes up most of the world’s corporate and healthcare economy. The price hikes this would allow for would be astronomical!

Whitley: This is bad. This could mean the complete destruction of the free market at worse or horrendous worldwide inflation. I need to find a way to temper this.

He mused, though incapable of doing about the situation anything out right Whitley was still a prominent figure in Atlas. He had access to some of the most exclusive events and places in the kingdom and had already made contact with the head of the military. If he said the right thing to the right people at the right times, he could get rumors started and passed around enough to bring some attention to the issue before a crisis.

Whitley: Maybe I should drop a hint to the General the next time he forces himself to admit a function. With him acting as both military general and chief ambassador, holding two council seats, and having a close repertoire with the other two members, he’s the best option to blow the whistle to. And since he can’t rely on his proxy to stand in for him anymore, he’ll have to be more active in the social scene with the election coming up.

The thought of this former proxy brings Penny’s visage to the forefront of Whitley’s mind. He had tried not to think about her so he wouldn’t get distracted but now that she was on his mind the thought of her permeated it like a thick mist. He wondered how she was doing; her morning patrol would end soon, and she’d be going to lunch at the academy right after. She loved to send photos of her meal or talk with him as she ate but that wouldn’t be happening today.

Whitley: I hope she’s too upset about not seeing me today. She was distracted this morning, though it’s not like she’s going to to spend her lunch time staring sadly at her scroll sadly just because I couldn’t call her.

At the very second the vision of Penny sitting at a lunch table eating and sobbing while staring her phone longingly appears in his head, hitting him with a wave of guilt so hard he goes pale. He doesn’t get long to wallow in guilt as Jacques calls him over as they advance to the next hole on the course. By the end of the round, it’s 3 pm and time for Jacques’s next appointment. He takes his time bidding farewell to his friends while Whitley takes the chance to shower and get changed in the locker room. It’s a quick shower in the emptiest locker room as he doesn’t like being exposed in public nor risking people seeing his unclothed body. Once he’s clean, Whitley changes into royal blue pin stripe suit with white shirt, black tie, and black leather dress shoes that he’d bring in his bag. He watches face in the sink and combs his hair before stepping out again, walking back to the other locker rooms just as his father enters. He waits at the door until Jacques returns dressed in his usual attire and the two head back to the limo.

It’s another long drive into the city to their next stop, an obscenely large and grandiose hotel. The place is gelled with gold and white marble exterior in the style of Romantic era buildings. This was the Grande Palazzo, one of the most famous hotels in all of Atlas for two reasons. First that the former owner and her daughters along with a huntsman were brutality murdered in the boiler room by a rouge orphan 15 years ago. The second being the exceptional buffet, the most luxurious in the city and the whole kingdom. A good gimmick made during the remodel of the building and spearheaded by the new owner to help recover the hotel’s prestige. It had worked well enough that now it was one of the most popular hotels in the city for vacation and lunch dates for the upper class.

They enter the building and stop at the front desk to check in, the maître d’ leading them to gilded elevator after their reservation clears. The maître d’ uses a keycard to unlock the door and presses the button for the top floor after letting them in. She bows to them as the doors close and soon the elevator ascends. The ride to the top floor is silent, Whitley staring at the doors blankly as the elevator moves up pass the many floors of the hotel. Soon the doors reopen and the two are greeted by the sight of the restaurant. Its décor is just as grand as the lobby, all the large dining hall was full of luxurious seating areas, hard marble flooring, and large windows that faced the streets to look down on passersby. To say the actual buffet portion of the eatery was massive would be an understatement. Grills, ovens, stoves, and more hum in the many food stations as chefs cook, restock, and serve hordes of delicious food. Grade-A meat dishes, premium seafood, and vegetables, gourmet pasta, soup, breads, and desserts were all on offer in this grand buffet.

The mix of delightful scents in the air only aggravates Whitley’s hungry. He struggles to keep his composure as they head in to search for Bergmann. It doesn’t take long to find or rather his assistant, Mateo Green. Whitley had only seen the man twice as he’d been hired only last year and was the fifteenth assistant Bergmann had hired over the years. Very few lasted more than a year due to the stress, some leaving with a hefty severance pay after sustaining lifelong ailments and injuries from working with the man. And looking at Mateo’s small build, short height, and anxious demeanor, Whitley was less than optimistic about his poor man’s future in the SDC.

The stocky little twenty-something businessman was filling a plate with various bread rolls while holding a full unopposed bottle of red wine under his arm. He looked quite frazzled, wavering between rushing to grab the bread and stalling to swap out one that didn’t look up to par. When he turns away from the bread station Mateo spots them and nearly drops everything in a panic. He stumbles to regain his footing and not drop his haul then swiftly approaches them, a nervous smile cladded on his face and sweat dripping down his forehead as he makes his greetings.

Mateo: He-Hello Mr. Schnee! I h-hope the drive wasn’t t-too long!

He stammers out, his efforts rewarded with a cold look from Jacques as he stares the short man down. Mateo laughs nervously under his gaze, clearly terrified but trying his damnedest not to whimper under the intensity of the superior of his superior’s presence.

Mateo: G-Good to see you had a smooth drive! M-M-Mr. Bergmann’s waiting for us at the table, this way, please!

He skitters onto a turn and guides them to their seats for this lavish meal. Of course, they’re sitting at a window booth with a clear view of the skyline and the streets below. The left side of the booth is clean and clear, ready for them to claim. On the right side there was Bergmann, sitting alongside a trio of empty plates, two bowls, and two glasses in front of him as the large man sipped from a near-empty glass of wine. It's an appropriate sight, the man was the picture of the middle-aged upper manager archetype. Fat, balding, and skin a chalky kind of pale from his time hidden from his responsibilities in his office with the ruthless temper and gluttony to match.

Whitley: And here’s the damned pig.

Whitley thought, a fake smile ever presented as he stands at his father’s side while Mateo sets the plate of bread down. Bergmann catches sight of the two out the corner of his eye as he reaches for a roll. He pulls his hand away from the plate and waves them over.

Bradley: Jacques! Little One! You finally made it!

Jacques: Good God Bradley, you couldn’t wait for 10 minutes to start chowing down, could you?!

Bradley: Sorry but you know you can’t leave me a big guy like me with a near-endless stream of good food unsupervised!

Bergmann joked, letting out a hearty belly laugh that Jacques echoes with his own chuckle as he down. Whitley doesn’t move to sit with his father, primitively staying put to await the order he knew he’d be receiving soon.

Bradley: And if we’re talking about lunch, I should be asking you where your plates are!

Jacques: Well unlike you, I have enough grace to wait until I’m seated. But if you insist.

He punctuates his sentence with a wave of his hand in Whitley’s direction. Whitley, well acquainted with this gesture, simply nods and walks away from the table toward the buffet. He picks up a plate and utensils before going to different stations to get his father’s lunch. He knows the man’s taste and how he operates so he puts together an almost professional-looking plate. Two-ounce A5 steak, a side of grilled asparagus, and gourmet mashed potatoes paired with a glass of red wine. Once the spread is complete, he returns to the table and presents the spread to Jacques. Jacques barely acknowledges him as he analyzes the meal, and when he finds it sufficient, he waves Whitley off.

Jacques: This will do. Now run along, the adults have important things to discuss.

Whitley: Yes, Father.

Whitley lets out an internal sigh of relief f relief, with the venue and his father preoccupied for the moment he could finally sit down and have something to eat for himself. He strides away from that at a slightly faster pace than usual, smoothly escaping before anyone can make any more requests of him. Temporally free Whitley carefully files his plate with delicious food of his choosing. The ettiequte for restaurants like this were a little different, the atmosphere was built for indulgent so he could have more and seeing as he hadn’t eaten all day Whitley was keen to get his fill. He went for the dense dishes, a brisket, pasta primavera, a lobster tail, and a small bowl of gazpacho on the side. His hands are full as he looks for a place to sit down, he needed to be close to his father but far enough not to be in his direct line of sight. He scans the area and sees Mateo sitting a couple of tables down, stacks of papers surrounding him as types away on his laptop frantically.

Whitley: That’ll do.

He thought before heading towards the mild manner subordinate. He sits down opposite him and quickly notes Mateo's horrible disposition, the man clearly hadn’t slept for days nor eaten in hours. The hefty dark bags under his eyes highlighted their near-soulless appearance. Ever internal compassionate, Whitley gets back up and back to the buffet to make another plate. He carb-loads the hell out of it with prime rib, shrimp, pasta, and a large puff pastry, then returns to the table and presents it to Mateo. Holding the plate right blow his most and directly in his line of sight, snatching Mateo out of his work haze.

Mateo: W-what the-

Whitley: You do know your lunchtime is mandated by the labor laws, right?

Mateo: But I have to-I can’t-

Whitley: Are you trying to go against your superior? Do you really think you’re in a position to start causing problems?

Mateo: What?! No! Of course not! I-

Whitley: Then shut up, have your break, and stop doing unnecessary things.

Whitley states in a harsh tone as he places the plate into Mateo’s hands. While he didn’t like speaking like this to someone so fragile Whitley couldn’t be caught acting too nice with his father around. The flustered Mateo looks around for somewhere to put his plate down, but Whitley beats him to the punch by using his now free hand to gently slide the laptop out toward the other end of the table. As moves it Whitley catches sight of what Mateo was working on as the latter starts chowing down.

It was a list of HR complaints from Bergmann’s division, mostly about the overgrown bastard himself. Abuse of power, workplace harassment, sexual harassment, unpaid overtime, and so much more. It seems Mateo was tasked with burying the claims and burning evidence before anything got too public. Whitley looks over at Mateo, who’s completely preoccupied with stuffing his face like this is his last meal, then back at the laptop. He turns to get a good view of the screen, making mental notes on names, events, and times for later use. Also takes note of the machine itself for when he’d find a chance to get his hand on its content.

Whitley: Of course, the pig wouldn’t clean up his own mess. No, he just shits where he pleases and kicks his caretaker into the slop face first.

He thought as he finally starts eating, too into data collecting to really taste his food.

Whitley: But the tracks those scuffles making it easier to send the hog to slaughter when its number’s up.

He mused while scanning the screen between bites. By the time lunch ends Whitley has a full stomach and a full list of possible jaded witnesses and victims to interview once his time in the sun came. After bidding their goodbyes, father, and son are off again to their last destination for the day. The drive this time however feels different, bumps and grooves of the roads not matching the normal paths for where they should be heading. Perplexed, Whitley glances out the window and immediately knows they’re not going where he thought they were. The streets they were turning down were not ones he’d been through before but knew of very well.

Whitley: Damn it, don’t tell he’s taking me there?!

He cursed internally, nerves tensing as his mind wonders of what horrors he might face when they arrived at their destination. This destination not being the usual lounge or high-end bar but somewhere in the Atlas Red Light district. The red-light district in Atlas was just as scum as any other city, just a little more polished. Posh brothels instead of strip clubs and “smoke” lounges instead of street dealers and so on. Whitley only knew of this place from overhearing the crude banter from Jacques and his cronies, much of which was nauseating to visualize. Disgusting things about loose women and illicit substances articulating in an absolutely skin-crawling way that only old, perverted men speak.

As they drive through the area, the business names and storefronts start looking more and more sketchy. And when the sun goes down neon lights begin to shine, illuminating the area with a less-than-innocent glow. Whitley’s heart hammered with fear, this situation was truly out of his element. He didn’t care about his father doing reprehensible things, it’s suited the man’s filthy and dishonest nature! But involving him-directly? that was too much even for Whitley.

Whitley: Okay, calm down Whitley! This is the first time he’s taken you anywhere like this so it’s unlikely anything will happen. Just an introduction to the environment to get me used to it for a further meeting.

Whitley mused, trying to soothe his anxiety with rational thought. Still, the implications of bringing him out here were too dreadful to ignore.

Whitley: But if not-

A chill ran down his spine as the thought of what exactly Jacques would make him do once they left this car. Whitley had already lost so much of his emotional innocence because of his father’s hand, now he might be facing the losing his purity as well! And he had just found someone to cherish and love! This was just too much for Whitley to bare. He looks over to Jacques, hoping to find any hints of what his intentions are but is met with the same uncaring gaze that burned at his soul every time their eyes met. With no idea where he’s going or what will happen to him, Whitley can only sit in silent terror. When the limo finally comes to a stop it’s parked a bit away from what appears to be an average hookah bar. The sigh glowing in neon read “The Topaz Oasis”. Whitley breathed a low sigh of relief, and Jacques final finally speaks up as the driver comes around to open the door.

Jacques: When we get inside, I need you to take a package from Kraus and leave. This isn’t a place you can gallivant about just yet.

He states, uncaring as always but to Whitley this coldness was welcomed as it solidifies the situation as nothing outside of the norm.

Whitley: Yes, Father.

He answers and they exit the limo, walking less than a block up to reach the bar. Whitley’s calm is soon replaced with discomfort when they enter the building.

Upon entry, they were met with a woman dressed in the traditional dance garb of Vacuo, sitting at a small desk in the surprisingly small front room. She looked between them and then ask for a password to which Jacques lends down to her level and whispers it in her ear. The woman nods in the affirmative then pushes a button under the desk, opening the door to the main behind her. This is when things become uncomfortable as the moment the door opens the room is filled with a thick pungent smell. It’s strong like cigar smoke but somehow thicker and the smell itself is both fruity but with an undertone that reeked of toxic fumes. While the woman and Jacques seemed unbothered by it Whitley had to cover his mouth with his sleeve as he struggled to breathe. The air was so thick with this odor he had to suppress the urge to cough his lungs out as they walk deep into the building. Inside there were many people, some of whom Whitley recognized, being served by or entertained by women dressed in a more scantily clad version of the hostess’s outfit.

And dear gods, the smoke! Every table, couch, and den had a hookah, and almost every patron was using one. With so many in use in one enclosed area, the smoke rested in the air and was visible even under the dim light of the bar. As they journey deeper into the bar, Whitley starts to feel light-headed. His vision was getting blurry from the lack of proper oxygen, and he was not sure how much longer he could last. Mercifully, it doesn’t take long for them to find Kraus’s table. It’s a jarring sight as the outwardly wholesome-looking family man, the image of a loving middle-aged dad, Matthew Kraus sat on a long couch surrounded by a bevy of women serving him as he took a long drag from the hookah pipe. His eyes are glossy as he breathes out a ring of smoke before noticing the two white-haired men.

Kraus: Ah Schnee. ’Bout time you showed up.

Jacques: Kraus. I heard you had something for me.

Kraus nods, takes another drag of the pipe then snaps his fingers and one of servers presents them with a box. It’s a velveteen jewelry box, definitely something high-end enough to be stored rather than displayed for fear of theft.

The perfect bribe for a showoff like Jacques.

Being the tacky man that was Jacques opens the box a little and peeks at its contents. He smirks then hands it off to Whitley.

Jacques: You know me well Mathew, I appreciate that.

Kraus: All a part of business my good man. You and the boy staying for smoke?

Jacques: I am but the boy is leaving, it’s far past his bedtime.

He says, gesturing at Whitley to leave. Whitley nods and immediately speed walks to the exit, slowing himself down ever so much to not appear like he’s running away. Once he’s outside, in the cool night air Whitley fall onto his knees and into a coughing fit. His starved lungs pushing out all the toxic fumes he’d ingested and replaces it with oxygen as he grips the box tight in his arms. Once he can finally breathe again, Whitley gets up and goes back to the limo. He knocks on the driver side window and waits for him to roll it down. When comes down the driver notices his pained demeanor and ask if he’s alright.

Whitley: Just take me home, Andrew.

He orders before getting into the back. The drive back is silent and when they pull up to the manor Whitley doesn’t wait to be let out, getting his things together and walks out before the driver can come to the passenger door. He walks straight through the front door and doesn’t acknowledge anyone as he drops the box of in his father’s office then finally returning to his bedroom.He drops everything down on the floor, completely exhausted. He drag himself to his secret scroll’s hiding spot and retrieves it before flopping down onto his bed. There was only one thing he wanted right now, one thing he need to soothe him after this horrid day and after waiting through several seconds of idle ringing he gets it.

Penny: Good evening Whitley! How was your day?

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #penny polendina #fanfic #beta testers #whitley schnee #fanfiction #angst #cute #Sorry this is so late!

11 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 11 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between Shadows

Chapter 3: Library Leisure

That week was harsh as Penny and Whitley’s interaction get limited by their schedules, the morning and night classes being the only consistent contact. And while there was text peppered between these calls those were few and far between. Still, both appreciated the little time they had together each day and longed for the chance to meet in person again. Luckily enough that chance came soon than expected, as Jacques announces his departure for another weekend trip to peruse for some potential backers for his campaign on Thursday. This trip would leave Whitley alone til Monday morning with a small mountain of work to complete while Jacques was out. Seeing a window of opportunity, Whitley notifies Penny as soon as he can, and they organize a plan of action.

Whitley would work the entirety of Friday, come down on Saturday, and come back on that night so he could rest and finish his work by Sunday evening. This time frame gave them time to be together for as long as possible without Whitley’s absence being noticed. Spending a day locked in his room to finish a pile of paperwork was not unusual for the young heir.

Penny: But what about your meals? Won’t the maid in charge of delivering them notices if you aren’t there to receive lunch?

Penny asked during their strategy meeting, Whitley chuckles nonchalantly at this question completely unbothered.

Whitley: Oh, don’t worry about that. I skip lunch often when work fuel is high, I’ll just tell her I’m working through lunch and to be disturbed til dinner.

Penny: I..see.

Penny stares at him worried, apprehensive of the fact Whitley casually skipped meals at his size so often that it’s not even recognized as unhealthy to the people around him. But in this case that negligence benefited them so complaining about would be counterproductive. They continue planning their meetup throughout the day til Friday night. Whitley spends much of that working, trying to finish as much as possible. He wanted to leave without the anxiety of unfinished paperwork to do when he returned hanging over his head while he was with Penny. He puts his heart and soul into flawlessly completing every stock adjustment form, upper management complaint, and order invoice in sight! Meanwhile, Penny spent a lot of her Friday texting him whenever she had the chance. Sending encouraging messages, and periodic reminders to take breaks for things like food and water.

Penny: [Don’t forget to look away from your screen and the papers every hour! You need to rest your eyes, so they don’t lose focus, and your vision starts blurring.]

Penny: [And remember to take water breaks too! Three 8-ounce cups at the very least, okay?]

Whitley can’t help but smile at every concerned message she sends him. Knowing she’s cheering him on during his work marathon fuels him to see it through so he can return to her worry-free and accomplished!

During their evening chat, they go over the final details of their rendezvous one more time before bed.

Penny: So, we’ll meet at the station at noon then go to the library for a bit then get some pho for lunch!

Whitley: And tell me again why you want to go to the library for our date?

Penny: Because of common interest.

Whitley: Excuse me?

Penny adjusts her scroll as she straightens her back, sitting comfortably and confidently as she presents her motive.

Penny: You and I both like to read right? So, I thought getting books together would be nice. We only ever read necessary learning materials at the manor and even though that was nice I would still like to read with you. Just for fun, in a more comfortable setting where we can share our favorite stories.

She admits, a blush creeping onto her cheeks turning them rosy. Penny had always found joy in reading books and happiness in stories. For a good portion of her life books were a window into the outside world and human behavior. And the precious fantasy tales she held so seat were often a big comfort to her during more trying times. And knowing that her first love shared this hobby made her want to explore it with him. She wanted to tell him about her favorite fables, how the music he introduced her to had become a part of her fantasies and hear what stories he liked. She wanted them to read books to each other so they could show their enthusiasm more naturally. It was a childish want but still, Penny couldn't help but be enamored with the idea.

Penny: Maybe it was too boring of an idea for a first date after all?

Penny wondered to herself doubtfully, but her doubt soon turns to confusion as she notices Whitley’s peculiar expression. He’s covering his face with his hand with traces of his blushing face peeking through the gap of his slender fingers.

Whitley: Must you be so unbearably adorable every second of the day?

Penny: Huh?

Penny tilts her head quizzically; this cute action sends Whitley into a fit of laughter. God, he loved these little earnest moments with her. Her desires were so innocent and cute that it drove him mad! How could he possibly resist any offer from her when she made everything so adorably appealing?

Whitley: I’ll see you at the station, sweet dreams Penny.

He states with a bright smile. Penny smiles back, not entirely sure of what prompted this sudden burst of joy but was happy that he seemed to agree with her idea.

Penny: Good night, Whitley. Don’t stay up too late, okay?

Whitley: I’ll try, goodnight.

They wave each other goodbye and hang up, Whitley stays up a little longer to double-check his work. Once he’s sure everything’s in order he gets ready for bed but as washes up the scent from his shampoo reminds him of one more thing he needs to do before the date.

The next morning, Penny gets up and has breakfast with her dad, telling him of her plans for the day over bacon and eggs. Pietro, while overjoyed that his little girl has found someone, can’t help but worry about the dangers she could be putting herself in by being with him.

Pietro: Are you sure you’ve got everything covered?

Penny: Yes, Dad. He has his exit and renter route planned out and has assured me that he can sneak out without detection. Besides we’re only going out for the afternoon, so he’ll have plenty of time to get back home before dark.

Pietro: And you’re sure no one’s gonna recognize him here, right?

Penny: It’s highly unlikely, outside of the classical music world Whitley isn’t really that well known. His father is the figure head of the SDC and outside of business or high society events Whitley doesn’t leave the manor often. So, unless they have an interest in the inner workings of the dust industry no one will notice him and even if they did his face covering and that will make it hard to get a clear enough look to recognize him.

Pietro: Okay, just be careful alright?

Penny: I will, don’t worry Dad.

But Pietro couldn’t help but worry, this was a really risky situation she was jumping into! But alas there was nothing he could do; young love was a passionate and thrilling experience and had the tendency to blind those involved. Pushing Penny to stop now wouldn’t just hurt her feelings but push her closer to him out of desperation. Besides he’d promised himself he let her be more independent and this is what she’d chosen for herself, the best he could do was be there for her if anything happens.

After breakfast, Penny goes to her room to prepare for the date, first order of business being her outfit. Since this was all in short notice Penny hadn’t had much time to think about her clothing for the outing, only checking her closet the night before. She hadn’t been able to pick just one look that night before bed but had managed to narrow it down to three, which were now hung on her closet door. The candidates were her pink floral dress, her blue dress with white ruffles and stripes on the bodice, and her sailor look. As she gazes at her options Penny opens the weather app on her scroll and takes a look at the day’s forecast. It wasn’t going to be horrible cold, but it would be pretty windy so short sleeves wouldn’t a good idea. This ruled out the pink dress and left the two blue dresses as Penny’s best options. She takes both outfits off the closet door and inspects them carefully.

Penny: Okay, so it’s either the dress with the sophisticated round collar or the classic sailor dress.

She stares down each of her options, hoping the choice will be easy with the field narrowed to two. But style is much more suggestive than practicality, and with both suiting the weather the selection gets hard as Penny tries to sway herself on either.

Penny: The ruffles on this one would make me appear more mature and serene but it also makes it a little too stoic for where I’m going.

Penny thinks to herself as she studies the round-collared dress, unsure she turns her gaze to the sailor dress.

Penny: Meanwhile the sailor dress so cute and comfortable! It’s a classic look but still very striking! But maybe a little too childish for a date.

She muses internally before letting out a big sign of frustration. Each dress had their good points and drawbacks to an equal degree so selection through simple deduction won’t pan out. During her mission, it was much easier to pick something for a single event that suited her with Whitley and Julia’s help but now on her own Penny found herself struggling at the critical point. Of course, this was different from those high-profile events. This was a date! Her very first date with her first love! How could she not be picky with this?!

After half an hour looking between them, even holding them up to her body while in a mirror for better comparison, Penny still can’t decide which to wear. Growing more and more frustrated eventually she sighs and admits defeat.

Penny: It’s useless, I’m too nervous to pick, and I don’t think Dad has a lot of knowledge on women’s fashion. At least not date-wise. Guess I’ll have to go with the contingency plan.

With a groan Penny hangs both outfits on one arm before retrieving her scroll with the other. Opening her contacts, she scrolls down to Neon’s and hits messages then switches to the camera app. Holding up the garments in a way that both are nicely in frame, Penny snips a picture of them then starts typing. As much as she knows this was asking for trouble Penny didn’t have time to waste nor any other options to ask for advice.

Penny: If I keep it brief and don’t give any details she might not pry too much, hopefully.

Penny silently prayed as she writes out a text before attaching the picture to it. She takes a long deep breath then hits send.

Penny: [I’m going to the library today, which outfit do you think looks better for that?]

Unconsciously holding her breath, Penny stares at the screen anxiously as she waits for the reply.

Up in the Atlas Military Academy, Neon is laying half off one of the top beds playing a mobile rhythm/fighting game on her scroll. It was an off day for team FNKI and the boys had headed down to the cantina for breakfast earlier while she stayed back to sleep in. As Neon hits the final note in the level’s song, topping the leaderboards and claiming the number one spot.

Neon: Man, those kids from Mistral are gonna lose their shit when the servers reconnect and their whole guild’s dropped five ranks.

She thought smugly, proud of dunking on a former pro team who’d lost access to the app when Amity went down. She plans to enter another battle but just as the player hub screen loads a text notification pops up. It’s from Penny, asking for fashion advice of all things! Intrigued, Neon quickly opens up her messages to see the full text and is immediately disappointed to see it’s just for a boring library run.

Neon: Ugh, seriously? At least go somewhere fun if you’re gonna dress up.

She whined to herself as she looks over the photo of the two outfits. It takes her less than five seconds to decide which is better and text back without a second thought.

Neon: [The sailor dress, the other look like the heavy bulky crap my parents used to make me wear to a museum and other upper-crust shit😖]

In a matter of a couple of minutes, Penny receives her much-anticipated reply and is quite happy with the results. Neon’s point about the round-collared dress being too stern wasn’t wrong and the last thing Penny wanted was to seem uptight on her first real date. So, the sailor dress it is! She texts back a quick “Thank you, Neon.” then puts the other outfit back and starts getting changed. Once she has the dress, white stockings, and black mary janes on Penny grabs a brush, hair ties, and a hand mirror to do her hair. She had picked up some beauty supplies and washed and conditioned her hair the night before in preparation for the day. And with this more cutesy outfit on Penny was feeling inspired to do something new. Parting her hair down the middle, she brushes the left half over her shoulder, gathers it up, and ties it into a low pigtail. She checks her handy work in the mirror before moving on to the other side but once she’s finished the second pigtail something clearly amiss. It’s a bit higher and tighter than the first, making the style slightly uneven much to Penny’s chagrin.

Penny: Oops, too high! Let’s try that again.

Penny states, looking into the mirror before taking out the pigtail and trying again. Unfortunately, the second attempt goes as well as the first and she has to try again. A third attempt turns into a fourth then a fifth and a sixth but Penny refuses to give up! She will look perfect for her date even if it takes a hundred times!

Penny: Just focus and keep trying! I know I can get this right!

Penny reassures herself before starting over on the pigtail yet again.

Meanwhile up in Schnee Manor Whitley has just finished proofing the last of his work for the weekend and is getting ready to sneak out. His wardrobe is open as he combs through it for a nice disguise. So far, he had dawned a simple pair of black pants, a white dress shirt, and black leather boots, but he was still looking for a coat suited for the lower city’s weather forecast. Just as he finally finds a trench coat that’s not too thick but not too thin there’s a knock on his door. Whitley tenses at the sound, he made it abundantly clear after breakfast that he was not to be distributed until past sundown so who could be knocking at a time like this?

Whitley: Did someone on the morning shift not get the memo or maybe did someone from the afternoon rotation clock in early?

He ponders, trying to figure out where the error in his order was so he could fix it before his window of opportunity closed. But this apprehension is brief as a familiar voice calls out from the other side of the door.

Mary: Young Master, may I speak with you for a moment?

Whitley lets out a sigh of relief and walks to the door to unlock it for Mary. He opens it and is greeted by her usual aloof stare.

Whitley: Come in.

He states indifferently, ushering her into his room and closing the door behind them. After his first escape, Whitley had no choice but to tell Mary what he was doing and how he planned to continue seeing Penny in secret. Mary was understandably not too enthusiastic about this decision but due to their arrangement there was little she could do about it. They had never discussed anything about his personal life in their dealings because he never had one and now that he had something to hold on to Mary was at a crossroads. She knew how tenacious the boy could be, that’s why she approached him when she did, she also knew how resilient he was from the dark parts of the memories she’d documented from his readings. Whitley was not giving Penny up, that fact was certain enough, and all Mary could do about it was monitor the situation from a distance and help keep things in order.

Mary: To think even the most dedicated of schemers could come undone over a single girl. But I suppose that’s what love does to people, how revolting.

She thought judgmentally as she set the basket of supplies from the garden on Whitley’s desk when he finished getting dressed. After he’s got the coat out, he grabs a page cap and his face mask before walking over to Mary. He could sense her discontent but couldn’t bring himself to care about it, this was a transactional relationship, and her task in it was to help safeguard him until it was time to strike at Jaques. So, who was she to scrutinize what he did for his own happiness?

Whitley: I see you brought what I asked for, thank you, Mary.

He says nonchalantly, opening the basket and inspecting the items inside. He’s pleased with what he finds but his satisfaction is soon soured by Mary’s retort.

Mary: Of course, Young Master. It is my duty to carry out my superior’s orders, no matter how unwise.

Whitley ignores the hints of annoyance in Mary’s tone and goes back to the basket. The contents were the last piece of his date prep, all he had to do was assemble the final product. He sits down and starts putting it together, Mary watching over him with a blank stare. Once he’s got it together, Whitley gets up, puts on the remainder of his disguise, and prepares to leave. Retrieving his secret scroll and his pocket watch, he tucks his little garden project under his arm and walks into the hallway, Mary following close behind. Whitley gives her one last passing glance as she locks and closes the door behind them.

Whitley: If anyone asks for me, you know what to do.

Mary: Yes, Young Master.

She replies blankly. Whitley nods and turns to take his leave but he doesn’t get more than a few feet away when Mary calls out to him again.

Mary: You do understand what you’re risking doing this, don’t you?

This stops Whitley in his tracks, he stifles a sigh and looks back at her with an almost hollowed gaze.

Whitley: Yes, and do you know what you risk by asking these pointless questions?

He states dryly, Mary sucks her tooth in irritation but nods her head in agreement. Though she held great power Mary was still a servant at the end of the day and she had chosen the best master she could hope to find in this freezing kingdom. But with a relationship came a power dynamic and she was dangerously close to making him enforce it.

Whitley: Good. Now go return to Mother, she’ll want her afternoon cabernet soon.

Mary: Yes, Young Master.

With that they part ways, Mary still weary of the whole situation while Whitley seems unbothered by the encounter. Soon he’s out on the streets, calling a cab to take him to the subway station. It takes more than two hours for him to get from the manor to Mantle during midday, but he does arrive at Sovereign Central at the planned time. Whitley wades through the crowd as the train car clears out and makes his way to the main entrance. Just as he walks out of the station Whitley spots Penny approaching for their meetup. A warm smile bloomed on his face as gazed at her, she was dressed so cutely, her hair had been put into braided pigtails, and looked so adorably nervous. Tapping a foot on the ground like a scared jackrabbit as she looked around for him in the sea of people. Her cute anxious expression sparks some mischief in Whitley, and he decides to play a little prank on her.

Moving deep into the crowd, he keeps out of sight while Penny keeps looking to the front of the station waiting for him. With her back turned Whitley sneaks up behind her. Penny’s not paying attention to her surroundings as she scans the area for any sign of Whitley to no avail. Panic starts to set in, and Penny’s thoughts soon become jumbled with worry.

Penny: Did he not make it out of the manor yet? Or maybe there was traffic on the way? Oh, where is he?!

She bemoans silently, foot tapping faster as her nerves get the better of her.

Penny: Maybe I should text him to see if he’s okay?

She pulls her scroll out of her backpack to text him, but before she can dial his number someone taps her on the shoulder.

Whitley: Excuse me, Miss.

Penny immediately turns her head at the sound of his voice and is greeted by the sight of her playful beloved standing behind her, one hand behind his back and the other pulling down his mask to shoot her a cheeky grin.

Whitley: I’m looking for my date, she’s a gorgeous red-haired girl with cute little freckles and the most adorable green eyes, perhaps you’ve seen her around here?

He jokes, delighting in the surprise glimmering in her eyes. But this shock fades into joy as Penny turns to him and wraps her arms around him in a warm embrace.

Penny: Whitley!

She cries, snuggling him close and nuzzling her cheek against his. God, these two, they never seem to get enough of each other. They languish in each other’s warmth as though they had been a part for years instead of just a couple of weeks. Enthralled in his lady love’s affection Whitley peppers Penny’s cheek with tiny kisses then pulls back to reveal the gift he was carrying, a small tricolor rose bouquet. Perfect white, pink, and blue roses plucked thornless, bundled together with soft fillers like baby’s breath and myrtle, and wrapped in cream-white paper tied tight with gold ribbon.

Whitley: For you.

He offers, Penny takes the bouquet with a smile and holds them close as she takes a whiff of them. The scent was strong and fresh, they must have been cut that very morning to still be so full of life and color. It looked like a professional setting but personalize to suit her taste and his romantic expression completely.

Penny: They’re so beautiful, I love them!

Whitley: Take them as a token of gratitude for the inconvenience I’m causing you under by being here. I know this can’t be easy for you to sneak around like this.

Penny: That’s not tru-(hiccup)-well it is but I don’t mind it at all! I want to be able to see you and be with you and if it means I have to break a few rules to do so.

She declares fearless, her conviction burning in every word causing a slight blush to form on Whitley’s cheeks. He wraps his arms around her, being careful not to crush the flowers but still having her close as he’s overwhelmed by her endearing words and nature.

Whitley: Oh, what did I ever do to deserve someone as wonderful as you? You’ll stop my heart dead in its tracks if keep making it race like this!

He gushes, absolutely smitten with his kind and courageous little lover! Penny’s also enjoying the moment, almost dizzied by Whitley’s unrestrained admiration but can’t help noting the stares they were getting from passersby. A young couple in love was a sight to behold in most places, with some looking at them fondly while others seemed disgusted by the public display of affection, and as it turns out Mantle was no different.

Penny: Uh, Whitley?

Whitley: Yes?

Penny: (whisper) I think we’re being watched.

Whitley glances around and catches some people staring at them, some giggle while others sneer approvingly.

Whitley: (whisper) It would appear so.

He sighs, knowing they need to avoid him being recognized Whitley reluctantly releases Penny from his embrace.

Whitley: (whisper) Then maybe we should head to the library before we draw a crowd.

Penny nods in agreement, takes the bouquet in one hand, and offers him the other. He holds onto her gently, intertwining their fingers, and the two take off toward the library. The library Penny chose wasn’t a long way away from the station but still, a fairly decent walking distance, though Whitley didn't mind. He spent a lot of his time walking to and fro in the proverbial caste he called home on busy days, so leisurely strolling down the uneven city streets with Penny was a nice change of pace. They walk a good six city blocks before Penny stops them in front of a colorful corner-side building. The aged masonry was painted white as a base with colorful artwork and graffiti covering much of the rest of the exterior. Some of it looked like children’s scribbles, others more proper illustrations, and the graffiti was neat and tasteful as if drawn for a community project. Despite its size, this place was obviously a beloved and cared-for part of this neighborhood.

Penny: Here we are!

Penny gestures excitedly at the front doors as they stand at the entrance.

Penny: My dad recommended this place to me, it’s where he went when he started reading and where he got a lot of the children’s books he read to me when I was little! Apparently, it was the home of a Mantle scholar Theodore Friedman and one of the few original libraries from Mantle’s beginnings. His family was one of the many who settled in Solitas during the migration, and helped build Mantle in the kingdom’s main city. Theodore spent much of his adult life as a teacher and when he died, he bequeathed his family’s generations of book collections to the city and commissioned his home to become a library so the citizens would always have a place to gain knowledge. That’s what it's been ever since, renovated internally for structural reasons but still, it’s the same library for the people as it always was.

Whitley: That’s..incredibly generous. I guess people were a lot kinder back in the day.

Whitley says almost wistfully, the sentiment of the story reminding him of his dearly departed grandfather, Nicholas. He knew if the kind old gent didn’t have a family, he would’ve done the same and given everything away for the benefit of the city he grew up in and the city he helped build into a capital.

Whitley: Maybe I should donate something to the city in his name when I take over? Something to help remind people of the man who made the name Schnee mean something.

He thought hopefully, lightly uplifted by the idea of cleaning up some of the stains on his family’s name in a way that helps others outright.

Penny: Umm, Whitley? Are you okay?

Penny’s voice snaps him out of his train of thought and back to reality. His musings and nostalgia had momentarily blocked out his senses, a habit he rarely be allowed with how burdensome his days could be.

Whitley; Oh! Yes, I’m fine! Let’s head inside, I’m curious to see what this little historical site had to offer.

Penny: Great, because I really wanted to see if they still have the vintage copy of the girl in the tower!

She chirps cheerfully and they race inside hand in hand. The interior of the first floor was what one would expect of a nice and cozy old library, hard wooden bookcases in neat rows each a different genre, muted-toned carpeted floors to muffle footsteps, tan-colored walls with little flyers about the importance of reading peppers throughout, and the soft smell of aged paper, leather, and ink from library’s collection. The besides the possibility awaiting on the second floor of the building the one standout was the whimsical-themed children’s session. It was a much more open space with the bookshelves being short and colorfully, the walls of the area being painted shy blue with illustrations of clouds and grassy fields on it, small work tables, a standing piano covered in stickers, and a wooden stool at the edge of a technicolor rainbow rug in the corner of the area. At the moment said stool was being occupied by the resident librarian, a slightly tall woman with a dark complexion and purplish red hair in a low puff ball ponytail surrounded by a group of young kids. The woman looks horribly exhausted as she tries to read them a story, not noticing the child’s boredom or the two teens standing at her desk looking for her. Meanwhile, Penny and Whitley wait at the front desk to talk to the librarian, since neither had been inside before both wanted to ask for directions or a map of the different sections so they could spend as much time reading together as possible. But with no guide, they had walked right into an impasse.

Whitley: Where is the librarian? They aren’t supposed to leave the entrance unattended, are they?

Penny: I don’t think so, but they should still be here if the doors were unlocked.

The lovers ponder the whereabouts of the library’s overseer when Penny glances over to the kid's section and sees the tired women reading to kids.

Penny: Wait, I think that’s here over there. Excuse Me Miss!

She calls out, waving her hands in the air to make herself more visible. It seems they had come in at the beginning of the children’s reading hour and Penny’s waving grabs the attention of not only the librarian but the children. Many recognize her immediately and jump up from their spots on the carpet to run to her. Shouts of “Miss Penny!” “It’s Ms. Hero!” and “That’s Ms. Penny!” interrupting the story time and drowning out the librarian’s confused muttering. Soon the kids rush to the front to see her but one lone little girl with bow-bound pigtails, Aderyn, hangs back after noticing the caretaker’s confusion. She tugs at the librarian’s sweater sleeve, causing her to bend down to her level.

???: Yes, Adrai-Uh-Aderyn?

Aderyn: That lady over there, her name is Ms. Penny. She protects us from monsters and bad people and helps us go cross the big streets when we go to school sometimes.

???: Oh, okay.

She says still somewhat confused as Aderyn goes off to join the other kids to play Penny. The poor girl was being swarmed as little children crowded at her feet, playing with the hem of her dress, reaching out to be picked up, asking her where her boots were and if she was there to read books with them. Penny tries to handle them gracefully but can’t help but feel embarrassed as she fumbles in her of her date. Whitley on the other hand watches the display with glee, chuckling behind his mask at her attempts to gently brush them off. One mange to grab her backpack and tries to use it as leverage to climb her back, forcing her to hold him as he pulls up so he doesn’t lose his balance. This inevitably leads to her just putting him on her shoulders, instigating a chorus of pleas from the rest of the children to also get a piggyback ride.

???: Umm, excuse me? Ms..uh..Penny, right?

But the commotion pauses when the librarian finally walks over to greet her customers. The first thing either notice is the heavy bags under her eyes, the second is the dead-eyed stare she was giving them. The poor thing was haggard and looked ready to pass out at any moment, much to the concern of the two teens in front of her.

Penny: Yes, that’s me. Who are you?

Jemma: I’m Jemma, the librarian here. Sorry about the little ones, they can get pretty… rowdy sometimes.

Jemma’s voice is dripping with drowsiness and her eyes are so unfocused she can barely maintain eye contact. Penny can practically feel the tiredness rolling off the woman and pities her deeply. She knows firsthand what a lack of sleep can do to the mind and even though she wanted to enjoy her date Penny couldn’t leave her be in good conscience.

Penny: Yeah, but that’s how kids are. They’re so full of energy it can be hard to keep up with them sometimes.

Jemma: Sure is, most of these..(yawn)..little terrors won’t sit still for half a second, much less the entire story time.

Penny: Oh, that must be so hard for you. Maybe I can help you out with it?

Jemma:…Huh?

Penny: The kids really like me, and I love books so they might pay more attention if I read to them! That and you can take a break while I watch over them!

Jemma: But I don’t need a break though?

Penny: Are you sure? Because you look kind of tired and not very coherent.

Jemma: Yeah I guess..but it’s okay, I just my…(yawn)..little pick me up to get me right.

Jemma walks around to her desk and pulls out a brightly colored can with bold black text on the side. The name “Beast” italicized by black lighting bolts is printed down the side with the nutrition facts printed on the other side. Jemma holds up the can like a prized chalice full of the holiest nectar and given her current state she’s it probably was in her mind. The kids look at the can in awe of its showy design while Penny is a bit bewildered, and Whitley is unimpressed but moves closer to get a better look at it. His eyes widen as he reads off the back of the can while Penny looks at it with mild skepticism.

Penny: Is..is that an energy drink?

Jemma: Yup, the best one on the market. Help keep me up during a midterm marathon, two term papers, and third shifts.

Whitley: And how many of those have you had today?

Whitley asks, bringing everyone’s attention to him and off the can. Despite being there the whole time, the children and Jemma had failed to notice him in the excitement of Penny’s arrival. But now that he had the floor, he was going to use it well. He stares Jemma dead on as she tries to formulate an answer to his inquiry.

Jemma: Ummm..three-No! At least four since 2 am, I think?

Whitley: Well then, you should probably call an ambulance before you drink that.

Jemma: Wha? Why?

Whitley, face surprisingly stern, points to the nutrition facts on the back of the can.

Whitley: Because if what’s printed here is accurate then you’ve already passed the threshold of a caffeine overdose.

Jemma: What?..Wait! What?!

Whitley: It’s a fairly important but under-addressed nutrition fact but the daily caffeine consumption limit for the average adult is approximately 400 MG, 500 MG for an adult faunus. Any more than that can cause an overdose and those energy drinks you’ve been guzzling have over 100 per and well, you do the math.

Jemma: Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!

Jemma turned the can around and sure enough, one can of Beast had 120 MG, and she drank four of them! Her hands shake from fear and probably her last hit catches up to her and puts the can down on the desk away from everyone else.

Jemma: Oh god.

Whitley: You should probably lay down, maybe start drinking water to flush out your system and you know get some sleep before your veins rupture.

Jemma sits down on her desk chair stunned, the children chirp with confusion and intrigue over the condition of their librarian. Most don’t understand half of what they were hearing but some recognize the gorier words, and their imaginations start wondering with the possibilities. Penny, sensing the seriousness of the situation, tries to give Jemma some space by ushering the little one back to the children’s area.

Penny: Okay, kids, Ms. Jemma needs to take a rest for now so Ms. Penny will read to you all while she gets some sleep!

The children are immediately swayed by Penny’s enthusiastic declaration and cheer at this announcement, dashing back to their places on the mat with barely contained excitement. Whitley follows quietly behind them, and Jemma interjects once as they walk away.

Jemma: Their parents will be back in a couple of hours for pick up, so just keep ‘em busy til then.

Penny: Two hours?.....

Penny hesitates, this task would eat up most if not all the library time she’d planned for but what else was there to be done? She looks to Whitley, worried he’d be disappointed by this turn of events, but puts down his mask slightly to shot her an exaggerated defeated smile and shrugs his shoulders helplessly. He knew the kind of person she was when he agreed to this, and he wasn’t about to ask her to change the part of herself he found the most endearing. The warmth in his smile reassures her and she gives Jemma a happy nod before escorting the children to the reading circle. Penny takes the reins immediately, sitting down on the stool and picking up where Jemma left off in the storybook. She’s very animated with her reading, showing off the pics on every page, changing her voice to suit the characters, and gesturing to fit their mannerisms.

Whitley watches from afar, leaning against the same wall as the standing piano while Penny and the children enjoy storytime. It’s a precious and oddly domestic sight, her entertaining the young citizens of the city she protected with such care was heartwarming. Though it wasn’t great to be sat on the sidelines during their date, but he wouldn’t be greedy. They were getting lunch after this and the smiles on the little ones' faces were too adorable to ruin, so what harm could a couple of hours do?

As Penny reads through different tales and parables, she opens up a particularly famous one. It was a thick book of stories made from nursery rhythms, each keeping the tempo of the song they were associated with. Aderyn’s eyes light up at the sight of the book cover, this was her favorite one in the whole library. Small but determined Aderyn waves her little hand above her head as hard as she can, trying to get Penny’s attention. She spots her just as she’s about to read the first line. Closing the book, Penny looks directly at the shy girl with a soft inviting smile.

Penny: Yes, Aderyn?

Aderyn: C-can we have some music?

Penny: Huh?

Aderyn: Ms. Jemma a-always plays the music when we read that one.

Penny: Music?

Penny looks around for a speaker or radio Jemma might have used but doesn’t see anything nearby that could do the job. Ever observant, Whitley’s gaze quickly snaps to the standing piano next to him. Nursery rhymes were the first thing taught when learning piano after mastering scales due to their simple composition. With that knowledge in mind, he saunters over to Penny’s side as her search becomes slightly frantic. Placing a hand gently on her shoulder, Penny looks back up to see him standing over her. He pulls down his mask to flash her a quick grin then turns to the children, politely waving at them.

Whitley: Hello there little ones, have you all been enjoying storytime with Ms. Penny?

The children murmur and nod in the affirmative, a little confused by the sudden interruption but still enthused.

Whitley: Great, now I hear someone say something about this book needing music. Is that true?

He questions, taping the hard book cover lightly. The children immediately point to Aderyn, the little girl shakes a bit from the sudden shift in attention. With all eyes on her, Aderyn pulls her legs up to her chest and into the fetal position. She makes herself look as small as possible, her voice soft and quiet as she replies to Whitley’s inquiry.

Aderyn: I-I d-did.

She says sheepishly, looking down at her feet not wanting to even make accidental eye contact with anyone. With her gaze to the ground, she doesn't see Whitley stride over to her spot on the mat and kneel down to her level. His shadow overcasting her little form startles her a bit and Aderyn involuntarily looks up only to be greeted with a gently head pat and a soft by smile. With him so close Aderyn could get a better look at him, the young man looked like the prince from a fairytale and like fancy people she’d seen in her mom’s magazines. His gentle stance and tender smile ease Aderyn’s nervousness and she unfurls from her guarded position.

Whitley: Thank you for speaking up. Now that we know how about why we try this again, Hmm?

He muses before standing up and walking over to the piano. Sitting down on the bench, he opens up the fallboard to reveal the keys. He pressed the pedals down with his foot and plays a few sets of scales, switching between each to test the tuning.

Whitley: A little rough but it will do.

He thought before looking up from the keys and over to Penny.

Whitley: Penny, what’s the first story?

Penny: “The Marcher Are Coming”

She states, suddenly there’s a tapping sound coming from Whitley and the piano. He’s knocking on the side to the beat of the nursing rhythm. Soon he stops knocking and starts playing the intro of the song. Penny catches up to the beat and recognizes that he’s counting her in, without much delay Penny sing-reading the story.

Penny: The marchers are coming one by one, Hurrah, Hurrah! The marchers are coming one by one, Hurrah, Hurrah! The marchers are coming up the hill, down the trenches and round again! But they all keep marching one by one, to get out of the rain!

The children clap along to them as move to the next verse, some even singing with her. When the marcher's story ends Whitley asks what the next title is, and Penny happily announces it’s “Fly Away, Ladybug” and he starts playing the opening notes. It was so much fun, playing silly songs for a nonjudgmental crowd while Penny practically sang along. He hadn’t been part of a carefree duet since he was just as little as the children they were entertaining and knowing this moment would become a joyous memory to them made Whitley so happy he couldn’t help but smile under his mask. Penny was also overjoyed, seeing so many of the people she cared for so happy at the same time was almost overwhelming that if she wasn’t so focused on reading, she’d be crying with joy.

Penny: I’m so glad we came here!

She thought happily, turning the page to the next story as they continue. This is how their story time plays out until the parents arrive. The call of a mother for her young son stops Whitley in his tracks and they realize it’s time for pickup.

Penny: Oh, look at that! Your parents are here for pick-up time. Guess our storytime is over.

The little ones grumble at this news, a little upset that their time with their favorite neighborhood hero had come to an end but Penny reassures them that she’ll greet them all during her Monday morning patrol. They take it as win and plead that she come back to read to them again soon before running off to their parents. Aderyn, however, hangs back and sneaks over to the corner Whitley had hidden in when the parents started coming in. As he’s trying hard not to be seen, Whitley feels something tugging at the hem of his coat and looks down to see Aderyn. The girl was gripping the edge of the fabric tight, face full of anxiety and mustered courage. Seeing her obvious discomfort Whitley, getting down to her level again to inquire about her current state.

Whitley: Hello again, Aderyn.

Aderyn:..Hi.

Whitley: Are you okay?

Aderyn:…Yeah.

Whitley: Then why are you over here and in not with your family?

Aderyn: B-Because…I-

The girl looks down, pausing to collect her thoughts and gather up the strength to speak clearly. Whitley gives her a moment to think, sympathizing with her disposition as he knows how hard it is for a child to speak with unfamiliar older people. It takes less than half a minute but feels like ages to Aderyn, until finally, she takes a deep breath and completes her statement.

Aderyn: Your…name?

Whitley: Hmm?

Aderyn: What’s…your name, mister?

She asks, big for looking at him curiously with twiddling her thumbs. Whitley pauses for a moment and clears his throat, trying to ensure what he said next would be clear and concise enough to suspend her curiosity. Though lying to a child was wrong but Whitley couldn’t risk her describing him to her parents later and them putting two and two together as unlikely as it was. Still, he’d taken too many risks already, it was best not to test his luck.

Whitley: I’m sorry, but I can’t say.

Aderyn: Huh?

Whitley: I was cursed by a madman with an odd semblance. Now if I try to say my name my voice disappears and I can’t speak.

Aderyn: Really?

Whitley: Yes, watch. Hello my name is-

He cuts himself off, miming speech while not letting out a single sound. Aderyn stares at him shocked, his lips moved but his voice had disappeared completely! Not a noise leaves his mouth as he “spoke” his name! Whitley pauses, hoping the added silence gives his lie some extra tension to make it more believable. Luckily concerned look in Aderyn’s eyes is the perfect signal that his plan was working and to keep it up.

Whitley: See, can’t say it at all.

He states with a shrug and Aderyn gasps at the confirmation of this “horrible curse”.

Aderyn: I’m so sorry..I didn’t mean to..I didn’t-

Whitley: It’s fine Aderyn, you couldn’t have possibly known.

He reassures, patting the girl’s head gently to soothe her.

Whitley: Tell you what, why don’t you give me a name?

Aderyn: Me?

Whitley: Yes, you! You can call me anything you like so long as it’s not my real name.

Aderyn: Oh..hmm.

Aderyn looks down at her feet, she’d never named anything aside from her teddy bears and her dollies so much less a living thing! Could she even pick a good one? She’d be calling him this if she ever saw him again and no doubt would be telling her friends so they didn’t make the same mistake and force him to lose his voice again. It had to be good, something cool like the names they’d given Miss Penny!

Aderyn: Maybe, Hu-No, Garrett like the man from Mommy’s shows or-No!

Aderyn grows frustrated quickly, the pressure of picking weight heavy on her little head until it becomes too much, and she looks back. Her cheeks are puffed up and tears are starting to form in the corner of her eyes, face reddened from overthinking. Seeing the look on her face Whitley immediately tries to backtrack.

Whitley: Woah! Hey, now! No need to overthink it! It just be something simple like Jack or Ted. In fact, why don’t I just pick one myself ins-

Aderyn: P-PRINCE!

Aderyn cuts him off with a tiny yell not louder than the slam of a book falling.

Whitley: Excuse me?

Aderyn: Y-your name will b-be Prince b-b-because you look like one!

She stutters out, pointing her tiny finger in his face with all the boldness she has in her little body. Whitley stares taking a back for a second then starts laughing. Of course, that would be his nickname, he had been told the same thing in different words for so long that it was practically a second title. But hearing so innocently from a child made him want to embrace it more than other times.

Whitley: Alright, Prince it is!

He rejoices, smiling brightly under his mask he boops Aderyn on her little nose. The gesture garners a laugh from the little girl who giggles hard and holds her nose. Before she can ask any more questions Aderyn’s mother calls out and she waves him goodbye before leaving. With the children gone Whitley was free to return to Penny who’d been seeing the children off in Jemma’s stead as the librarian slept at her desk. He joins her at the front, and they talk a bit as they walk out back onto the street.

Penny: I’m sorry our library trip didn’t go as planned.

Whitley: It’s alright I had a lot of fun, watching you read and play with the children.

Penny: That’s good, I was a little worried you’d get bored standing by yourself. But in the end, you joined in! Thanks for playing the music, by the way. I don’t think things would’ve gone so well if you hadn’t intervened.

Whitley: Oh, that was nothing. Just me getting back to the basics for old times' sake. Besides how could I let my sweet seem lacking in front of her adorable little fans?

He says playfully with a wink causing Penny to giggle before taking his hand in hers as they continue on their way.

It’s another long walk to the restaurant, a nice med-sized east Mistral place called Lucky Paws with a chibi dog mascot printed in the front window. Penny orders for them and Whitley hands her some money to pay before taking her bag and flowers and going off to find them a table. He finds a clean one near the back and takes a seat, looking around the interior. The décor was simple and modern with traditional patterning in black on the green trim of the mostly white walls. Most of the patrons are young college-aged people most of whom look native and some elders of likely Mistrals descent. The young customers order the more flashy dishes, taking pictures of their plates and adding excess hot sauce to their bowls to test their spice tolerance. The elders, however, ordered milder meals mostly made of lean meats, vegetables, and rice, and are comparatively much quieter. The smell generated by the mix of foods and spices is heavenly, the mellow tones of herds and spikes of spice makes Whitley’s stomach growl with hunger. Lucky for him it’s not long before Penny comes to find him holding a tray with a bowl of pho for each of them.

The broth was a transparent brown, thin white noodles filling most of the bowl under it with pieces of chicken, chopped leek, onion, bean sprouts, and cilantro as toppings. The aroma alone is mouth-watering, and the plating is great even through the thick steam coming off the bowls. The moment she sets the tray down Whitley moves one bowl in front of him and the other in the seat next to him before getting up and pulling the chair out for her. Penny sits and is careful not to let her feet drag as Whitley pushes up to the table and then sits back down. With both seated, it's time to eat! Whitley removes his mask, and both grab a set of wrapped chopsticks; unwrapped they appear to be the disposable kind that came fused together. Being unfamiliar with them, Whitley looks around to see how others are using theirs. A man nearby sits down with his order, unwraps his chopsticks, splits them apart, rubs the raw edges together to rub off fractured bits of wood, digs into his food. Whitley copies these motions carefully, applying an appropriate amount of pressure to break them apart cleanly before thoroughly rubbing them together to smooth them out. With chopsticks now miserable, Whitley dips them into his bowl and stirs the surface slowly. When it’s cold enough he grabs a bundle of noodles out of the broth, but before he can lift them Whitley notices Penny struggling with her chopsticks. Her fingers fumble with them as she struggles to get them into the proper grip. Hating the sight of her in distress, Whitley gets up and stands behind her.

Whitley: Here.

He reaches around and puts the chopsticks into the correct position between Penny’s fingers.

Whitley: Grip it with your thumb and middle finger, lightly but firmly.

Penny opens her mouth to speak but connect already has her too flushed to put together a sentence and she does as told. Her cheeks are bright and rosey as she tries to focus on maintaining her grip and not on Whitley’s warm breath breezing on her neck. Once her grip is steady, Whitley moves his hand further up and presses down on her pointer finger with his own.

Whitley: Now move your index on the top stick to shift its position.

Penny moved her finger and the upper stick moves with the limb.

Whitley: Good, now let’s grab some noodles.

He guides her hand to her bowl, sinking the tip of chopsticks into the soup. Penny pinches at the noodles with her chopsticks until she grabs a few strands on the very edge. She pulls them up, blowing on the steaming noodles before bringing them to her lips and eating them.

Whitley: Good job.

He says still behind her, his voice a low whisper in her ear so gentle but alluring it sends shivers down Penny’s spine. She eats a little more to try and keep her composure and seeing her steadied movements Whitley sits back down to eat his own food. It’s cold just enough to eat outright and the taste is amazing. The broth is light but flavorful, the vegetable stock paired well with the chicken and spices adds a nice kick. The noodles are slim, soft, and filling as are the vegetables, and both are deeply enriched by the absorption of the soup. The cuts of chicken are a bit outwardly tough, but the inner flesh is tender and warm from the heat of the bowl. As they eat Penny still has trouble picking up her toppings, so Whitley takes it upon himself to pick them from her bowl and feeding them to her directly. Blowing on each morsel before presenting them to her, making her blush even more as she chomps down every piece.

When they finish it’s time for Whitley to depart and they walk back to the station. They walk hand in hand chatting about how good the food was and what they’d try if they went back another time. At some point, the conversation loses its topic and they just talk about nothing in particular, rehashing things they’d talked about over the phone just to hear each other's voice. Before either knows it they’re in front of the station and their date is officially coming to it’s end.

Whitley: And here’s my stop. Thanks for taking me out today.

Penny: You’re welcome, I had a really...really good time.

Penny’s voice is somber, fingers still intertwined with Whitley’s as she lowers her head. The day had not gone as planned but still, she had enjoyed every moment of their date and being in Whitley’s presence again. Letting him go not knowing when she’d get to be with him again was agonizing, her heart ached as she struggles to release his hand. Seeing her sorrowful state, Whitley pulls her into an embrace just as she had to him earlier that day.

Whitley: I’ll be back soon, don’t worry.

He whispers to her reassuringly, attempting to calm her worried heart. He didn’t want to go but he had no more time to spare and business to take care of. In a moment of adoration and desire, Whitley moves his mask aside and leans down to kiss her. Penny leans in to connect but turns her head at the last moment, Whitley’s lips touching her cheek instead. Both pause as neither excepted the action but seeing the weary look in her eyes Whitley chooses not to be greedy and gives her several more pecks to the cheek before pulling back.

Penny: Call me before you go to sleep tonight, okay?

She asks, slowly letting go of his hand.

Whitley: Of course.

A simple promise of a small but significant act was all they could offer each other to tide themselves over until the next rendezvous. But it was to let them part for the evening.

As Whitley enters the station, Penny waves him off until he’s safely in the building. Once she loses sight of him Penny holds the roses to her chest with one hand and her cheek with the other. She wonders to herself why she’d moved away from his kiss earlier. She had been so receptive of it the first time and she know she wanted more but for some reason, she had dodged.

Penny: I don’t understand I love kissing him, didn’t I? Being close I could hear his heart beating, the feeling of his lips against mine, the taste-

Suddenly it struck her, her instincts had picked up on something she hadn’t and acted on in her best interest at the moment. Her hand lowers to her lips as they curl downward into a disgusted frown.

Penny: Right, he didn’t get a good taste of me back then.

She thought, a cloud of gloominess hanging over her heart and mind as realized how lucky she was to have such honed instincts.

Penny: Good…He won’t be able to tell the difference yet.

She mused, both relieved and bemoaning her circumstances. Adding another wordless lie to her soul as she turns back to the main street and begins her silent walk home.

#fanfic #rwby fanfiction #penny polendina #rwby #beta testers #whitley schnee #fanfiction #cute #fluff #angst #sorry this is so late #had a hard month #pietro polendina

6 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 1 year

Text

Broken Machines: Between Shadows

Chapter 2: Business Hours

Routine, that was a word Whitley knew all too well. His life had been run on a tight schedule since he was old enough for schooling and given his intelligence it had started far soon than most. He hated this life of constant work and high-society events but had little say in any part of it. He had bided his time learning the trade of his family’s business and gathering evidence to oust his horrid father. When the time was right, he’d rid himself of the misery he brought to his life and the lives of those around him. He played the perfect son role to the letter despite all the pain and torment it caused him just for a chance a proper vengeance. And for a while, he thought he could survive this way until the end, wearing the mask of a trained dog and hiding a hatred as deep as the sea in the depths of his heart.

That was until he was named heir and faced a never-death experience.

That moment led him to meet the most unbelievable person he’d ever know. That night a girl with kind eyes and a smile bright as the sun saved his life and throughout their time together won his heart. She had reminded him that life had meaning, joy, and passion and gave him the strength to pursue something more than revenge. So much so that he’d taken great risk just to see her and be with her against his father’s wishes. And even though he still wore the mask and trod lightly in the gilded cage he called home; his heart felt lighter now that he had a more joyous reason to get up in the morning.

Penny had become his motivation, his joy, his sun, and moon more precious than any jewel or treasure. Her smile warmed his heart, her words lifted his spirit, and her touch was simply addictive to him in every way. He would give anything and everything to see her happy as she had made him with her kindness and warmth. If she wanted to see the greatest sights, he’d take her. If she wanted the finest jewels, he’d spare no expense. Hell, if she wanted the shattered moon as a memento, he’d do whatever it took to place it and all its shards in her hands. He wished to hold onto her until the end until he had the power to bring her up to the manor and be hers openly without fear or shame!

But therein laid the biggest problem of their relationship from Whitley’s point of view. As much as Whitley was willing to give Penny anything she could ask for and every bit of himself, he couldn’t. Even after all the hardship Whitley had endured to be with Penny, he had still held back much of himself in the process. She had a passing knowledge of how his father had mistreated and overworked him but had no true understanding of just how far it really went. She didn’t know of the harsh punishments, the restrictions, the tantrums, threats, and nightmares Whitley had suffered through for years without a single person to turn to. Nor did she know of how twisted such a life had made him. Whitley had seen many terrible things in his quest to ruin Jacques and planned many awful things to enact in turn once he took control of the SDC. He had spent countless hours planning his takeover, how he’d cut the cancer his father brought to his dear grandfather’s legacy with his own two hands. The revolute would be ugly, maybe even bloody but Whitley didn’t mind. He wasn’t after innocent people; no, he was after scum that cheated their way to the top and abused their power every waking moment for their pleasure. Much of the company Jacques kept was the lowest life forms Whitley had ever had the misfortune of knowing and what good remained in the tangle of corruption had no power to stop them. Hence, the cutting of cancer no matter what the removal called for. Even if his hand hands would be painted crimson by the fallout Whitley would prevail over them, victorious.

And that very fact is why he couldn’t be honest with Penny. He couldn’t show her the ugly half of his heart and hoped she’d keep it. Despite her occupation, Penny was a pure soul with a giving heart and open mind. She had faced the ugliness of Atlas high society and come out with her heart and soul intact. The wicket of the wicked had stared at her in contempt and she was not shaken by it. But still, Whitley couldn't stand the thought of soiling her with this his twisted psyche. The things he would do for his freedom and the world he inhabitant were too horrendous to drag Penny into. The thought of what could happen to her if she was further entangled in the nightmare Whitley called his life permeated Whitley’s mind often. Especially when they had their video calls.

As he chats with her early in the morning, both still dressed in their nightwear, Whitley’s smile never weaves as he hangs on her every word.

Penny: I’m still not sure about what I should say to Neon Kat. Once she sees that I’m not depressed anymore she’ll know something’s happened between us.

She says with a worried expression, her eyes drooping and lips pouting at her feelings of conflict. Whitley wanted to reach through the screen and cradle in his arms to soothe her uneasiness but the distance, necessary as it may, kept him from doing so. The only comfort he could provide was through his words, an easy task that felt far too light for what she’d given him.

Whitley: You can tell the broad details and leave it at that. She doesn’t need to know more than that anyway.

Penny: I would but Neon is very, very nosy. She will pry and pry until she gets all the information she’s after and is too stubborn to give up until she gets her way!

She huffs, her experience becoming sour as she recalls her co-worker’s wild attitude. Whitley can’t help but snicker at her adorable pout. Watching her cheeks puff made him want to pinch and nip at them until she broke out of her little funk and into a fit of laughter. But again, all he could was offer her his words.

Whitley: Stubborn and persistent without a care for normal boundaries? Guess that surname is more literal than I thought.

Penny chuckles at his sly joke, her frown reversing into her usual endearing smile. Oh, how he loved that smile of hers. Ever earnest and sweet, never plastered on or forced, and the way her eye lit up with joy was so heartwarming. The girl really never held anything back, everything was at face value with her expressions.

Whitley: But then again cats can be easily distracted, maybe you can divert her attention to something else until we can figure out a better way to handle this.

Penny: Hmm, there have been a lot of problems going on down here so that could work.

Penny’s face scrunches in focus as she tries to think of topics to distract Neon with. Whitley watches her happily and is about to comment on her adorably furrowed brows but the sound of the alarm from his normal scroll cut him off. It wasn’t a practically loud alarm but to Whitley it was like a blaring siren pulling him back to the reality of his daily life. Penny could hear the alarm over on the other side of the screen and know what it meant their morning talk was over.

Penny: Time to get to work?

She questions, still smiling but with a hint of disappointment in her soft summer green eyes. Whitley sighs, also disappointed but far too used to the pain disconnecting caused.

Whitley: Afraid so.

Penny: Will you call me at lunch today?

Whitley hesitates a bit, trying hard not to visibly deflate as he knew the answer wouldn’t be positive.

Whitley: I’ll see what I can do.

He says tenderly, trying to soften the blow a little but Penny was no foul. She knew well how much Whitley worked and that these little talks were hard enough to schedule as it was. But still, the prospect of going a day without hearing his voice and seeing that he was okay all while knowing the terrible environment he lived in even for a day was discouraging. The smile remains on her lips but the sorrow in her eyes is obvious as she bid him farewell.

Penny: Okay, have a nice day, Whitley.

Whitley: You too. Take care, Penny.

He says with a weak smile, the two wave to each other before hanging up. Now alone Whitley takes a deep breath, mentally taking in all the positivity Penny had gifted him, steadying himself for the day to come. He exhales and gets out of bed, walking swiftly towards his closet.

Whitley: Time to get to work.

Whitley thought to himself as proceeded to get dressed, comb his hair, stash his secret scroll, and pocketed his work scroll before striding over to his desk to start his morning reading. He starts with the statistics section first, much of which he’d finished early in the week, then goes into economics. When the math gets to be more complicated, he takes a calculator, pencil, and paper to hand do and double-check his work as progresses. He’s so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t hear Sue enter with the food cart carrying in his breakfast. With Jacques now transfixed in his campaign, Whitley had been busier than ever, and the dining rooms had been almost abandoned as a result. So, the kitchen staff would regularly deliver the Schnees meals to them and sweet but clumsy Sue was often tasked with the least difficult of three for obvious reasons.

She notices his focused demeanor from the doorway and watches him in awe. As a college student Sue knew the grind of studying well and had met a few overachievers that breezed through their work compared to them peers. Buy Whitley was a whole other breed when it came to academics. The young master did the equivalent of six full-credit classes of homework almost daily and that was only a fraction of his normal duties. It was honestly scary however efficient he was at his age and the maid couldn’t help but pity him for all the work he was saddled with. Especially with how he ate while working like this.

She stands silently until Whitley stops typing to move on to the next section. Seeing a small window of opportunity, Sue calls out to him.

Sue: Young Master?

Her voice breaks Whitley’s focus and he looks over his shoulder to acknowledge her presence.

Whitley: Yes?

Now seen and addressed Sue pushes the cart over to the side of Whitley’s desk. She describes the dish as she unloads it and the utensils off of the cart.

Sue: Today’s breakfast is a scotch egg, toast, and sausage with a side salad. And a hot back flat coffee.

She says as she puts the silver platter and mug in an open space on the desk before removing the cover to reveal the meal just as she described it. Though the portion is a little smaller than one would have imagined from that description. Truly there was a singular scotch egg in an egg cup, alongside a piece of thin white toast cut into two triangle pieces, and some small sausage next to the fresh side salad. The sausage was made of good-quality meat but small enough to be used for pigs in a blanket, the toast is thin are lightly buttered, and the salad is the size of a fruit cup and only a slight drizzle of dressing. It was a balance and healthy meal but unquestionably insufficient for anyone over the age of ten. But this was all Whitley would have until lunchtime came so it would have to make do.

Whitley: Thank you, Sue. I’ll leave the plate by the door when I’m done with it.

He remarks before turning back to his computer and resuming his work. Sue stifles a sign and leaves quietly with the food cart. Once she’s gone, Whitley proceeds to work with one hand and eat with the other, being careful not to get crumbs anything where or spill something. The meal doesn’t last even half an hour and Whitley sips on his half-cold coffee for the rest of his morning study.

Once he’s finally finished with his academic work for the day, Whitley gets up to do some quick stretches to promote blood flow back to his long numb limbs. After he stretches Whitley picks up his dirty dishes and walks them to the door. Lunch would be arriving from so it would be best for him to get them out his way and somewhere Sue could retrieve them easily. But just as he’s about to set them down there’s a knock on the door. Using his free hand, Whitley opens the door to see Hannah standing there out of breath and sweaty.

Whitley: Oh dear.

Whitley thought worriedly at the sight of the unkempt maid. Schnee Manor was prided on having perfect ground and well-maintained staff at all times, so seeing a maid this out of sorts was a clear sign the big trouble.

Hannah: Young Master, come quickly! There’s a big problem in the laundry room!

Hannah cries, to which Whitley sighs in response. With his father so preoccupied and his mother being… incapacitated most days the teen was left to run the manor in their stead. It had become so often that much of the staff deferred to him for assistance after accidents or maintenance notifications. Knowing that Whitley hands the dishes over to Hannah and steps out into the hallway.

Whitley: Take those to the kitchen and get yourself a glass of water, you look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration.

Hannah nods and accepts the dishes, replying with a simple “Yes, Young Master” before running off to the kitchen. Whitley in turn heads to the laundry room to see what was had transpired. As was common in large house estates, there were two laundry rooms with the manor, one in the staff quarters for uniform and staff bedding cleaning, mending, and distribution, and another in the main house for the family’s laundry. Guiding by the direction she came from and how tired Hannah was the problem was mostly in the staff’s laundry and not the main house. Whitley sighs again as he turns a corner and heads towards the staff quarters.

Whitley: Guess I’ll get some of my daily steps in before lunch, again.

He bemoaned to himself as he marches down the halls to make the long walk to the staff’s laundry room. His steps click on the cold marble floor, every tap of his heel carrying a slight echo due to the vastness of the grand estate's halls but soon they grow soft as he walks onto the pale wood floors of the staff building. The staff area was far more causal them the main house, it was not meant for company to enter so was held far less glamorous furnishings but was built steadily and comfortably for those who inhabited it. The bedrooms though shared were spacious enough for both occupants to have some level of privacy. The bathrooms were large, the showers were separate for privacy, and quality hypoallergenic soaps were distributed to staff weekly. And the staff kitchen was well stocked and always clean, kitchen staff and cleaning rotated daily to keep the entirety of the manor clean and fed. The chiefs commonly using much of the same ingredients for staff as the family’s meals, sans the more luxurious food like high-quality meats, expensive spices, or any of the good liquor. Truthfully it was one of the few parts of the Schnee enterprise that had not been watered down by Jaques’s spendthrift ways, primarily due to how often the staff was seen by the guests Jaques kept.

Whitley: If it won’t tarnish his reputation by making him seem cheap, Father would’ve let this place fall into disarray and dressed the staff in rags years ago.

Whitley thought passive-aggressively as he wonders through the halls of the staff building toward the laundry room. When he arrives there’s a mob of staff inside trying to sort out the chaos. The room itself was covered from top to bottom with white tiles, with large wood cabinets on the left wall where all the detergent, fabric softer, and the like was stored, and on the right wall was a large window left open to fit the clothes hanging contraption that set delicates out to dry and back via a thin conveyor belt. And finally at the back wall was where the industrial-sized washer and dryers sat, several units made to handle large deals of clothes at the same time for easy and efficient cleaning. Unfortunately, it was here that the problem lay as one of the dryers had been pulled out of its spot on the wall, unplugged and dragged to the middle of the room. The front was covered in char marks as was the floor around it, clothes inside burned beyond recognition. Tens of maids and butlers were gathered around it attempting to clean the singes off the floor while others looked over the machine itself for further damage. In the disarray, Alexandr is the first to spot Whitley and quickly approached him to debrief him on the current situation.

Alexander: Afternoon, Young Master.

Whitley: What’s going on here Alexander?

Alexander: It appears that one of the dryers has overheated and caught fire. We were able to put it out quickly but there was some damage to the flooring, and we were unable to retrieve the clothes inside before they were set aflame.

Whitley: I see, any injuries?

Alexander: No, luckily enough everyone on duty was at a safe distance with the blaze ignited.

Whitley: Good and what about the dryer? Is it salvageable?

Alexander: We’re checking it but at the moment it seems beyond repair, and it would be best to start looking into replacements.

Whitley sighs again, this was the biggest problem of having a home this size. Even if there was perfect upkeep of the estate, there were still so many little accidents that couldn’t be prevented no matter how hard anyone tried.

Whitley: And this is why we provide high-coverage insurance.

He muses both annoyed that this happened but relieved no one was harmed by the flames. But that relief also gives way to a question, one that should have followed his first.

Whitley: Alexander?

Alexander: Yes?

Whitley: What started the fire?

Alexander: Ah, I believe someone said something about forgetting to clear out the lint tray before the next cycle. With the volume of clothes inside the amount of lint would most definitely have been enough to cause an overheating and subsequent fire.

Whitley: Wonderful.

He says sarcastically as he pinches the bridge of his nose. This was going to be an annoying chore added to his list of obligations but as the only responsible household member, he had no choice but to handle it.

Whitley: Bring me the warranty for the dryer, and contracts for our contractor and uniform supplier. Hopefully, we can get this cleaned up by tomorrow.

Alexander: Of course, Young Master. Shall I get the pressure washer to clean the ruined tiles?

Whitley: No, leave them for the contractor. But please check everyone that was here during for burns. We can’t have people hiding blisters just to finish their shift.

Alexander: Yes, Young Master.

With that, Alexander turns on his heel and leaves the room to fulfill his new tasks meanwhile Whitley evacuated the other staff members out of the laundry room. Letting them hang out the rest of the wet clothes and take out the clean dry clothes before closing the door to the room and posting a handwritten sign not to enter until further notice. By the time Alexander returns those who were attending to the laundry were standing in the hallway and Whitley was questioning those that were closest to the fire. He hands him the information he requested and proceeds to check everyone for injuries as Whitley makes some calls. By the time things are sorted, Whitley’s lunchtime has passed and it’s time to get his daily pile of paperwork from his father’s office.

Whitley: Great, now I’ll have to run on fumes til dinner.

He grumbled to himself as he walked back to the main house. Along the way, he gets a ping on his secret scroll. Knowing only two people knew the number and only one had reason to contact him at this time of day. He stops and looks around, making sure he’s alone, before pulling out the scroll and checking his texts. He’s great by an image of a bowl of noodles with light brown broth and beef, watercress, bean sprouts, and a slice of like lime as toppings sitting on a cafeteria table. Under the picture was a cheeky message from none other than Penny.

Penny: [They were serving pho at the academy today and I got a bowl! Don’t worry I made sure to ask for non-spicy this time.]

The text read, Whitley couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the quirky message, delighted by the effort Penny put in to keep him updated even when he didn't have time to call. It warmed his heart a little to know he was on her mind even in innocuous moments like this. But the warmth is quickly overshadowed by a grumble of pain, as his empty stomach growls for food at the sight of the pleasant meal. Whitley rubs his stomach and texts her back before the pain gets too distracting.

Whitley: [Looks good, we’ll have to get some together next time.]

Penny replies almost immediately with a cheery text of-

Penny: [Of course, I’ll ask around for some recommendations after work!]

-and Whitley shoots back a quick-

Whitley: [Can’t wait to see what you find.]

Before putting the scroll away and continuing towards his father’s office. When he finally arrives at the office, Whitley’s relieved to see his father wasn’t inside waiting for him. Having to explain his tardiness while his father stared down at him was just going to make his stomachache worse and frankly, he didn’t need the added stress or stomach ulcer risk. Walking to the desk Whitley quickly grabs the stack of paperwork meant for him and speed walks out of the room. He couldn’t stand being there for too long even without Jacques being present. The whole room had been mired with the memories of verbal lashings of his early years and the brutal punishments that started soon after Weiss’s departure. Unconsciously, Whitley holds the paper tight in one hand and grips his bicep with the other, the memories so vivid that the air felt heavy. He squeezes the muscle of his upper arm harshly, the pain forcing his mind back to reality. He takes a few deep breaths then shakes his head furiously, brushing away the remaining tension of entering the room. When his head is clear he retreats back to his room, work in hand, and continues his day.

Now Whitley’s involvement with the SDC was mostly just paperwork, but it was a hefty amount. The work ranged from negotiations on dust prices for clients to incident reports from the mines and everything in between. Other times he was tasked with handling client calls or receiving direct reports from lower management on all manner of issues. Occasionally he’d have to call others to clarify something, notify them of certain changes in contract or policy, and reject dealings his father didn’t approve of. It was mental taxing work that required him to handle many sensitive documents and situations with no room to make mistakes or even small errors. Any issue could undermine his standing as heir and Whitley couldn’t afford to let that happen for various reasons.

Whitley: Get through this quick then maybe you can sneak in a snack before dinner and hopefully not pass out from starvation.

He says to himself before sitting down at his desk and getting back to work. He spends hours battling the sea of paperwork, carefully going over ever page and noting errors or inconsistencies or signing off on things when necessary. He makes a few calls to verify things across different departments as he goes, eventually landing a call with a difficult client mid-way through.

Steppers: I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU CAN’T MAKE AN EXCEPTION FOR THIS ONE THING!!!

Whitley: My apologies, Mr. Steppers but I cannot decrease the price of your air dust shipment any further your wholesale discount already offers.

Steppers: BUT I’VE BEEN A CUSTOMER FOR YEARS! DOESN’T ENTITLE ME TO SOME KIND OF LEGUCY OF REPEAT CUSTOMER CARE!!!

Whitley: You’re ordering materials from a monopoly for your hot air balloon tour business, what part of that give you any inclination that you’d receive any respect?

Whitley snarked to himself as he tries to get through to the man and make him see reason.

Whitley: Unfortunately, the SDC doesn’t have a set customer rewards system but if you’d like to petition for one, please call the customer service line or take our online survey.

Steppers: I’VE ALREADY BEEN THROUGH ALL THAT AND NO HAS HELPED ME!!! AND NOW I’M HERE STUCK TALKING SOME SNOT NOSED BRAT!!!

Whitley: And once I apologize for the inconvenience but there is simply nothing I can do for you.

Steppers: GET ME YOUR MANAGER!!! I WANNA SPEAK TO THE PERSON AT THE VERY TOP OF THIS SHITTY COMPANY!!!

Whitley: I can’t do that Sir, I’m the highest authority on customer relations and as I’ve already stated there’s nothing I can do.

Steppers: BULLSHIT, NO WAY A KID IS RUNNING THE SHOW HERE!!!

This painful back and forth continues as Whitley starts back his paperwork while still on the line. Eventually he manages to talk the man down enough to agree to call the service line back and hang up. Now nurturing a headache from the exchange, Whitley finishes up the rest of his work just in time for his dinner break. And as if on cue there’s a knock on his door but instead of the soft voice of Sue a different one calls out to him.

Olga: Young Master?

Whitley: Come in.

He answers, turning around in his desk chair ready to fave whatever issue that had brought her here. Olga opens the door and takes only a step in while still holding the door as she tells him what she needs of him.

Olga: There are packages at the front door and delivery boy needs the resident's signature to drop them off.

Whitley takes a sharp breath and gets up, stretching out his back as he rises. He walks over to Olga and the two leave the room to attend to the delivery. When they arrive at the front door there is a young man with a clipboard waiting at the open door as well as several staff members on standby. Just behind the carrier, he could see a small truck with the logo of a well-known local stationery company printed on the side. Scymoreous Printing Co, the company his father often commissioned their business cards from. Whitley approaches the young man who looks him up and down curiously.

Delivery Boy: Package for Jaques Schnee?

Whitley: I can sign for that.

Whitley states and the delivery boy hands over the clipboard to him. He looks over the order form then signs for the delivery before handing it back.

Delivery Boy: Sooo, want me to haul them in or-

Whitley: No need.

Whitley motions to the waiting staff members and they quickly retrieve the box from out front, Yuko specifically carrying several on one arm and ease. When they’re done the frankly astonished delivery boy tips his hat to Whitley and then runs off back to his truck. Whitley closes the door behind him and steps over to the boxes to inspect the goods. With the help of Olga’s handy box cutter, he opens one of the boxes to find that it’s filled with campaign pins. The pin has a white background with a picture of Jaques in arms crossed power pose in the foreground and the words “Success With Schnee” in bold red font underneath.

Whitley: Of course, he’s using the family name for his scheme. What else does he have to offer?

Whitley rolls his eyes, trying his hardest not to get annoyed again as he moves to open another box. After checking over all the boxes of pins and ensuring they were all to standard, Whitley addresses the staff.

Whitley: Put the bulk of these into storage, two boxes with party supplies, and with spare guest room toiletries. One in father’s limousine and half of one in his office, stacked neatly in the top drawers only.

The staff reply with a simple “Yes, Young Master.” and get to work sorting out the pins. With that handle, Whitley heads back to his room and is mercifully greeted by the sight of a large silver platter on a wide wooden standing tray table next to his desk. He rushes to the table and uncovers the platter to reveal a plate of pan fries cod with a side of grilled asparagus and a bowl of creamy truffle soup, a cup of earl gray at the far side still billowing with steam. It would seem the kitchen staff doubled up his meal to make up for his skipped lunch. And though the portions were still in light Whitley greatly appreciated the effect they’d put in to keep him fed. Despite the restrictions of his diet the chiefs never failed to provide Whitley with delicious and nutritious food. It was one of the few comforts this life afforded him though the somberness of his situation soured the flavor most nights.

Whitley: At least I can go to bed on a full stomach for once.

Whitley thought bittersweetly as he moves the chair from his desk over to the tray table and sat down to eat. The cod is so soft and flaky it practically melts on his tongue, the fresh lemon butter sauce adding a lightly zesty sour flavor to the fish’s natural saltiness. The asparagus is crisp and well-spiced, the firm snap of every bite is tribute to its freshness. The soup is a delight of smooth broth with a rich taste, the pieces of mushroom, onion, and potato softened from boiling and soaked deep with the soup. Tis’ a hearty meal, one Whitley quite enjoyed after a hard day’s work. He considers washing it down with the tea but instead wipes his mouth with provided cloth napkin then gets up to start his final task of the day, reading.

Whitley: What better to pair with a reading hour than tea?

He quipped to himself as he grabbed one of the books off his reading list from his small bookcase before returning to his seat. Jacques had required Whitley to read from a select range of topics every day for an hour or more to keep the boy cultured. The topics were mostly of no real-world use and focused more on elite taste. Fashion history, architecture, ancient culture, art history, and the like are all topics Whitley was well versed in due to his daily reading. But despite it being a forced task, Whitley found some solace in this time as he could get lost in the text and his imagination. Engaging with thought-provoking works and reading tales of far humanity had come since its earliest records was a nice way for him to escape the confinement of the manor and its master, even if only in his mind.

Though lately, his mind had drifted ever so slightly as he read his usual topic. Actually, it had begun months ago during Penny’s lessons. He’d find some passage or chapter in a book that could help her digest the topic more easily or might catch her interest enough to help keep her engaged with the more mundane parts of his training. And even after she left Whitley still found himself mentally picking out things he knows she’d like or find interesting.

Whitley: Maybe I can sneak a couple down with me next time. I’m the only one who reads the regularly and God knows Father hasn’t to even glance at a book unless he’s pushing onto me, so they won't be missed.

He muses to himself as he reaches for the cup of tea, it’s gone lukewarm but still, the taste is soft and comforting. Seems that Sue had a hand in making it as the sugar and milk ratio is perfect and there is a hint of honey at the bottom, most like placed in the cup before the leaves and water so it could disperse evenly with heat. Or at least that's what she’d told him the first time he’d had her make tea for him. It was a nice way of mixing natural sweetness with the bitterness of the leaves, enough so that he’d never correct her method as long as she only made it for him. Couldn’t risk needless firings over his father’s breakfast tea not being exactly right every morning.

Whitley takes his time drinking his tea so it last for the entire hour as he keeps reading. When the hour is over Whitley puts back his books, puts his dirty dishes together, and is about to walk them and the tray table to the door when someone knocks. The knocks aren’t very hard but had a particular patter to them that immediately alerts Whitley to who’s at the door. Quickly putting down the table, grabbing his finished documents, and straightening himself up, Whitley takes a long deep breath as he approaches the door. He grabs the nob firmly in his hand, his heart rate speeding up as he opens the door to see his father Jaques standing in wait. The older man made it a point to see his son face-to-face at least three times a week to “check up on him” as any good parent would. But in truth, it was just a way for him to impose himself on Whitley and remind him of his place in the hierarchy of the household. His cold uncaring gaze locks onto Whitley’s shorter form, looking at him as if he were a speck of dust. Whitley does not let this outward coldness affect him at all and stares back at him with a gentle gaze and pristine smile.

Whitley: Good evening, Father. How has your day been?

He says with the sweetness of a child thrilled to see their dad finally home after a long day of work. It was amazing how kind and loving Whitley appeared to be to his father, and to anyone who didn’t know the truth of their dynamic, it would seem the two had a healthy parent-child relationship. But if they ever looked beneath the surface, they’d find toxicity so vile it’d make most people wretch.

Jacques: Fine. Have you completed all your work for the day?

He asks, no demands still peering at Whitley with the same sense of indifference. Whitley doesn’t buck or drop his smile, however. He just chirps out the answers he knows Jacques wants to hear without so much as a stammer.

Whitley: Of course, I just finished the last of my reading for the day and I have all my paperwork right here. Organized and sorted just as you asked and pertaining calls have been dealt with.

He holds out the papers with a proud smile, Jacques just stares at it for a moment then snaps his fingers. From down the hall a maid appears from around the corner, she walks up to them and takes the documents from Whitley’s hands. Neither acknowledges her during the exchange and she leave quickly and quietly. The two white haired men continue to converse after she’s gone.

Jacques: Were there any problems while I was out?

Whitley: Yes, but nothing of importance. There was a small fire in the staff laundry room and your campaign pins arrived early then scheduled.

Jacques: And what did you do about this?

Whitley: Why I handled it of course. Everything that was damaged by fire will be replaced in a few days and pins have been put into their proper places already.

Jacques: And this was all charged to?

Whitley: The manor’s maintenance account, of course.

This was the normal banter between these two, Jacques presenting constant questions and demands and Whitley answering in only the affirmative. It was a one-sided scenario that gave Jacques all the power and forced Whitley to obey. What would happen to the boy if he failed was so wretched that it compelled Whitely to hold back the bile in his throat as patted his head. His touch felt like rusted metal thorns against Whitley’s soft locks, and he has to hold in a breath of relief when he pulls it away.

Jacques: Good job, keep up the good work. Now, go to bed.

Whitley: Good night, Father, rest well.

He says kindly as Jaques walks away from the door and down the hall. Whitley doesn’t move away from the door and keeps watching Jacques’s back until he’s out of sight. After he’s gone, Whitley softly closes the door and lets out a loud deep sign. He hated these random visits, being tied to that horrid man every time he left the manor was bad enough but the consistent checkups to keep him on his best behavior were maddening! They had decreased with Jacques’s focus switching to his council seat campaign but still, it was so stressful to have him drop in whenever he pleased just to make sure his favorite puppet was still under his thumb.

Whitley: And now my hair stinks of gody cologne and narcissist’s sweat.

Whitley thought, gagging slightly from the overpowering scent. He already had so many reasons to hate his father deeply, but it was the little things like this that made being near the man truly unbearable.

Whitley: (groans) I need a shower.

Indeed, he did. After such a long day a shower was just the thing Whitley need to cleanse himself of the day’s inconveniences. Putting the tray table by the door, setting his scrolls aside to charge, then grabbing fresh undergarments and nightclothes, Whitley heads into his en-suite bathroom to wash up. He lets the water run while he brushes his teeth in the mirror. When his pearly whites are nice and shiny, he gathers up his loofah, soap, shampoo, and conditioner and sets them in the shower shelf in the corner by the head before undressing. Most people won’t allow the water to run for this long for various reasons, but Whitley prefers to as the heat created a great deal of steam. The steam helps him unwind by opening his pore and bringing a nice change of temp compared to the manor’s natural frigid atmosphere but most importantly the steam obscured most of his form as he moved around the bathroom. It would fog all the reflection all surfaces as he stood bare and uncovered. Even if something were to happen to enter the room now it would still be hard to make his pale form in the cloud of white.

This meant he didn’t have to see himself undressed, or more precisely what he hide underneath his clothes.

But as he climbs into the tub and lets the water from the shower head hit his skin the mired skin off his back reminds him of his failures. The warm water grazing across long streaks of broken and healed skin, the tingling on his fingertips as he washes over raised line of his upper arm. He washes himself gingerly and carefully, making sure everything inch of his body is clean. Once he’s sure his clean, Whitley stands under water for a moment to enjoy the warmth before getting out. With hot showers it was best to moisturize immediately after to prevent dry skin. So, Whitley sits down on the toilet, lid down, hair wrapped in his hair and body wrapped in towel and applies some lotion. It scented like mint and sandal wood, with pure aloe as the base, the cold cream is thick but easy to spread. Starting with his face and ending with his feet, Whitley takes a great deal of care in rubbing the cream into his pearly skin. His feet specially take longer than elsewhere as he weaves his fingers into the many grooves and cracks. He had to be extra gentle with the lacerations on the soles of his feet as if not tended to correctly the skin would become uneven given how the wounds had healed. With the locked moisture in and his hair mostly dry Whitley gets changed into his nightwear and puts his dirty clothes into the hamper. He exits the bathroom and notices the tray table had been taken away.

Thankful that there’s no reason for anyone to bother him for the rest of the night Whitley locks his door, and rushes over to his bed. He takes his secret scroll out of its hiding spot and checks himself out in the camera app, making silly faces and cheeky smiles at himself with glee! Once he knows he looks good Whitley opens up his contacts and video calls the one labeled “My Love”. It takes a minute for the call to contact and for her to pick up but sure enough, after a long arduous day, Whitley is graced with the sight of Penny again. She was laying down on her bed, head on her pillow, and dressed in her usual nightgown. The pajamas held her figure well but didn’t cling to her body and the way her hair framed her lovely face at this angle gave her an air of relaxation and comfortability.

God, he loved seeing her like this at the end of the day, so precious and sweet. The sight of her gave him so much peace that the stress of his day simply vanished the moment he looked into those gorgeous green eyes. Honestly, the only thing that could make him feel more at ease was if she was laying directly across from him in his bed. Snuggling into him for comfort and wrapped gently in his arm as they both drift off to a well-deserved rest. But pitifully that could not happen.

Whitley: For now.

Whitley thought, a mischievous grin on his lips as he gazes at his sleepy lover. From how comfy she looked it was clear she’d been home and ready for bed for some time now but had waited up just to see him. How cute of her, waiting up for him like this. Well, he couldn’t disappoint her after she’d made time for him, could he? With a soft gleam of passion in his eyes Whitley starts their evening chat ready to verbally drown his dear Penny in all the adoration and affection he could before exhaustion put him down.

Whitley: Hello again, my darling. I hope you didn’t miss me too much today.

#rwby fanfiction #fanfic #penny polendina #rwby #beta testers #fanfiction #whitley schnee #angst #fluff #cute #broken machines #Mind the edgy bits

11 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 1 year

Text

Broken Machines: Between Shadows

Chapter 1: New Normal

The sea of darkness around her feels endless, a void too vast to see the beginning or end. Entrapped in this endless abyss was Penny Poledina, seemingly falling further and further into the all-encompassing emptiness. Despite the grimness of the situation, the young military android was calm and collected in this odd environment as if she knew it wouldn’t last long. In a flash the scenery around her changes, now Penny was in a lush garden dressed in a white sundress. Sitting on the grass and picking flowers, Penny looks completely at peace with her surroundings. But her serenity turns to joy when a white-haired young man appears behind her. Sensing his presence Penny turns around and holds her arm out to him, ready to embrace him. He dives at her and tackles her to the ground, holding her tight in his arms as he nuzzles into her neck. The two hold each other and giggle like mad, giddy just being in each other’s presence. They lock eyes, summer green to a brilliant blue, and he leans in for a kiss. But before their lips connect the scene fades in an instant.

Penny wakes up in her bed, rest but a bit groggy at the loss of her sweet dream.

Penny: Why do I always wake up in the middle of a good dream but stay asleep throughout nightmares every time?!

She gripes to herself before sitting up, unplugging herself, and stretching out. Looking over to her nightstand Penny leans over and picks up her plugged-in scroll. She goes through her contact and locates a number saved number under the contact ID “My Prince”. She selects the video call option and combs her hair with her finger, trying to tame her bedhead a little, as the call connects. Soon the screen shows a video feed of none other than Whitley Schnee, already dressed and sitting at his desk.

Not long ago he’d be a little crabby at being awake so early in the morning but now he looked forward to it. Before morning started with a quick breakfast then straight into the grind of his daily studies and work. But now it started with the sleepy voice of a sweet red-haired girl, a vision of cuteness in her pajamas and bedhead.

Penny: Good morning, Whitley. Did you wake up before me again?

She says sweetly but with a hint of uneasiness. She’d always worried about how little he slept no matter how neat and chipper he looked every morning. Penny was already beyond what most people consider to be an early riser, so having someone who worked so late get up even earlier than she did was always an immediate cause for concern. One that had been prevalent since the very beginning of this odd relationship. And ever observant, Whitley quickly notices her concern but decides to brush it off, not wanting to spoil the morning mood.

Whitley: Yes, I had some paperwork I want to get through before lunch, so I got up early.

Penny: Is it urgent work?

Whitley: No, not really.

Penny: Then you could’ve slept more instead of working so early in the day, again.

Whitley: Yes, but I want to get it done early so I could make time to call you at lunch. That and I just couldn’t risk oversleeping and missing the chance to see you with that adorable bedhead.

He says sweetly, eyes half-lit but already full of a mischievous sorta passion. Penny stutters as she formulates a reply, caught off guard by the flirtatious undertones of his last comment.

Penny: I-I-That-(sigh) While I appreciate the thought, I would prefer you get a proper night's sleep over working early to make time for me.

Whitley: Speaking of sleep, how did yours go last night? Have the nightmares gotten any better?

He asks deflecting from his own bad sleeping pattern and refocusing the conversation on Penny’s. Penny knows his avoiding the topic again but doesn’t want to press him on it and does want to share her new findings, so she plays along with his game a little.

Penny: I actually did very well, I managed to change the nightmare completely this time. I turned into something positive and dreamed about you.

Whitley: Oh really? Nothing scandalous, I hope.

He teases, making Penny blushes bright red in embarrassment. Now Penny had grown wise to the way Whitley like to tease her for fun sometimes around they started this arrangement. She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her, but he was implying was too embarrassing to stay calm! With a bright red face and her gazes darting away from the camera, trying desperately to not make eye contact as she explains herself.

Penny: N-no, it wasn’t anything s-shameful at all! I just dreamed of being with you in the garden! Hugging and having fun…and...kissing..you. But nothing truly inappropriate at all!

She admits in a stuttering ramble, which elicits a low chuckle from Whitley as he stares her down with a sly grin from the other side of the phone. God, she was so adorable in the morning. Her soft voice, flustered face, and genuine care for him were a better morning pick-me-up than even the best-quality coffee and Whitley couldn’t resist lapping up as much as he could get every time. Even if that meant pushing Penny’s limits from time to time.

Whitley: So, you miss my kiss that much already?

Penny: No!-(hiccup)-Well yes, but not like-

Whitley: It’s okay, I understand I really do. I mean our first kiss was dulled by rain and the smell of grime and fresh blood. Hard to get a proper feel or rather…taste of such intimacy in those conditions.

Penny: I-I-You’re-that’s too-

Whitley: But don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you on my next visit. We’ll get lunch, maybe take a stroll, then go find a nice quiet place to spend some quality time together. I’ll let you indulge in every little desire you have of me until you're completely satisfied. It’s the least I can do for troubling you like this.

He says in a soft but flirtatious tone that makes Penny’s face even redder than it already is. Her burning embarrassment was not helped by the fact Whitley was most likely being honest to a point but phrasing it suggestively to rile her up. Not wanting risqué thoughts permeating her mind during patrol Penny decides it’s time to end the call before she lost her sanity to Whitley’s teasing completely.

Penny: We’ll talk about this more later. I need to get dressed and ready for work soon.

Whitley: Already? But we haven’t even picked a location yet.

Penny: Which is why we’ll talk about this more later.

She states firmly, not letting Whitley even attempt to extend the conversation any further. Whitley sighs at her obstinate tone and relents.

Whitley: Fine. But I will call you back around lunchtime. Take care and stay safe for me.

Penny: I will, see you soon Whitley.

They wave at each other through the screen then hang up. Now alone Penny slouches down against the wall and lets out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding.

They had decided the morning after Whitley’s grand escape that Whitley would use his backup scroll to keep in touch with her and that he would only visit if his father was out for a long enough period that he could sneak out and get back unnoticed. That and Penny had to escort him to and from the subway every time. It had only been a week, but they had already gotten into a rhythm of video chatting first thing in the morning, again before bed, and sometimes in the afternoon if Whitley could find some time to be alone to call her. And though Penny loved seeing him so bright and happy in the morning and wispy and drowsy before they say their good nights to each other she couldn’t help but worry about the underlying issues that lead to this situation. Whitley had to be careful when calling her, so no one heard and reported it to Jacques. He was also planning multiple ways of escaping his own home as if he were a convict on the run. And finally, he couldn't tell anyone in his own home of his newfound joy for fear of punishment. What kind of punishment Whitley won’t say but the way he looked when he dodged the question made it seem like he couldn’t say without some kind of mental trauma.

Penny loved him so much but knowing how much he had to endure and overcome to be with her made her heart ache. As a born and crafted protector being unable to help him better or escape his circumstances more than a temporary retreat made Penny feel so helpless. Though that protectiveness only reminded her of the other big issue in their relationship.

Getting up and going to her closet, Penny grabs a set of her everyday clothes and heads to the bathroom. She washes her face and brushes her teeth but as she pulls off her nightgown to change, she looks back into the bathroom mirror. She was at just the right angle to see that the outlet for her charging plug was still open. Her shoulders tense and the hole closes in on itself seamlessly, leaving no indication that it had ever been there to begin with. It was a special type of nanotechnology; Penny had been a lifelong test subject of creating a human skin for cybernetics. The research had come a long way over the years and now Penny was nearly indistinguishable from any normal human woman. Even her internal works were almost identical to any girl her age, minus a few small organs and add components. Physical she was exactly what she was made to be, an artificial human being. With a soul and mind of her own, allowed free will by design, she existed on the same level as everyone else born in Remnant. But still, Penny was a creation of humanity, a warrior made of the finest materials, and no amount of similarity to the beings she was modeled after could change that fact. A fact the young man she loved so dearly had no knowledge of.

Penny: Maybe I should tell him the truth. He should know all the facts about me and what I am after everything he’s done to be with me. If I don’t then things might-

As Penny thinks she recalls the fairytale Mary read to her, recalled all the pain and loneliness Whitley went through before they meet. And most vividly she recalls the question she couldn’t answer when Mary prompted her on her morality.

Mary: How can you say you truly care for him when your identity to him is a lie?

Her words ring in Penny’s mind filling her with guilt and shame. She shakes her head, trying to chase away the maid’s cold words but the doubt has already settled into her heart.

Penny: No! It’s too soon! It’s too sensitive a topic to talk about this early! And It’s classified information I shouldn’t be speaking about with a civilian! Especially without permission!

She thinks as she discards her pajamas and puts on her blouse, justifying her inaction to herself before refocusing on her primary task. It was quite ironic in a way that the incredibly honest android could dance around the truth in her own head so easily. Pushing aside the uncomfortable subject Penny gets dressed and does her hair before heading back to her room. She picks up her essentials, backpack, scroll, and the like, then takes a moment to pick out a brooch to wear for the day. Choosing practicality over presentation, she wears her old brooch then heads downstairs for breakfast.

Pietro had worked late on some modifications to the large mecha stationed at the kingdom’s border and little sleep that night. But out of habit he had awakened up on time and make breakfast before heading right back to bed without actually eating any of it. It was a simple dish, a pot of cream of wheat left still cooling on the stove, to which Penny helped herself to a bowl, putting the rest away for her dad to finish later. It had just cooled down from being too hot to eat and the top layer had solidified enough to trap the remaining heat. Sat at the table bowl in front of her, Penny dogs her spoon into the soft porridge. Steam bellowed from the crack in the creamy porridge’s surface and from the spoon as she raised the utensil to her mouth to take her first bite. The top was slightly chewy, but the rest was creamy, warm, and soft, the taste of wheat, milk, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon speared through Penny’s mouth. It was a cozy taste, one that warmed people up and helped carry the anxiety and worry about the day to come away. And by the time Penny finishes she’s completely distracted herself from her early anxious musings as is ready to go to work. Cleaning her dishes and putting her boots on by the door, Penny gives one last look around the ground floor before heading out.

Walking the streets, assisting with arrests, helping children and elders across the road, and aiding emergency responders, nothing was out of the ordinary for Penny as she went about her patrol. At least until she spots a case of public intoxication right around the corner of one of the local dive bars. This particular instance was of a young man, most like in his early twenties, slumped against the building still dressed in what appeared to be a factory work suit. He looked weary and bleak, with dark bags under his eyes and the musk of liquor, sweat, and vomit wafting from him with the thickness of a skunk’s spray.

But he was unarmed and showed no outward hostility, so Penny approaches him cautiously walking towards him slowly and sitting down beside him. She stays silent, allowing him time to notice her presence and look in her direction. Their eyes lock and Penny gives him a cheery wave before greeting him.

Penny: Good morning, Sir.

She says with a bright smile, the young man next to her doesn’t react to the warm greeting. This doesn’t dissuade Penny and she continues the exchange by introducing herself.

Penny: My name is Penny Polendina, I’m one of the soldiers assigned to patrol the city. What’s your name?

She asks politely, the man tenses at the mention of Penny’s occupation and stays quiet for a while. But eventually, he calms as Penny doesn’t display any of the hostility or sternness most associated with the armed forces. Having nothing to gain and nothing to lose, he lowers his head to avoid her gaze before telling her his name.

Franklin: Franklin…my name’s Franklin.

He’s so quiet it comes out as a soft whisper, but Penny still hears it and smiles at his cooperation. With the introduction out of the way Penny persists, making small talk and asking Franklin some leading questions to uncover how he ended up in this state.

Penny: Nice to meet you, Franklin. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? The sky is clear, and the temperature is relatively high for this area of Solitas.

Franklin:…Yeah, I guess.

Penny: Indeed. So, how has your morning been so far? Mornings with clear skies are often more pleasant due to the higher volume of sunlight! At least for people who like sunshine, others not so much.

She jokes awkwardly, hoping some humor would lift the mood more. Franklin looks at her puzzled by her chatter and replies nonchalantly.

Franklin: ..It’s been..fine.

Penny: Really? It doesn’t seem like it.

Franklin: What do you mean?

Penny: Well, from my perspective sitting on the ground next to a building clearly inebriated before noon doesn’t come across as a good way to start the day.

That statement shocks Frankie out of the drowsiness and he looks at her like a deer in headlights.

Franklin: Wh-you-D-Do I look really that fucked up?

Penny: A little but the smell was also a contributing factor.

Franklin: Oh, fuck my life.

The young man hangs his head in shame, embarrassed that a kid had seen him acting so sloppy that she felt the need to check up on him. As if the night before hadn’t been bad enough now he was getting pity from a little girl in a puffy skirt. How pathetic.

Franklin: God, I’m so fucking stupid.

He throws his hands in his face, trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes. Penny almost instinctively pats his back as he silently cries, a small act of comfort in what was clearly a trying time for him. After a while, Franklin collects himself and explains how he ended up in this state.

Franklin: Sorry about..all that. It’s just that things haven’t been too great for me lately. The steel plant I work at’s been getting product stolen off us for weeks and people are starting to get worried for their jobs and their safety. This week has been worse yet.

Penny: What happened?

Franklin: I was in the loading dock when the last time they got in, and shit got ugly. My buddy was closest to the hauler when they took it and got messed up real bad.

Penny: Oh no! Is he..was he critically injured?

Penny questions sympathetically, heart growing uneasy as the situation sounds unfortunately familiar. Franklin shakes his head and proceeds with his story.

Franklin: No, but his leg got messed up trying to dodge something he couldn’t see. Him and a bunch of others on the loading crew had to go to the hospital and’ll be out for a while. Now we’re short-staffed, some of us got to work double to cover for it, even though we could just LOSE EVERYTHING ALL OVER AGAIN AND I-I…I just need to get my mind off this shit for a day.

He slumps further down, resting his head on his knees, as he sobers up to the unaddressed stressors he’d drowned away in alcohol. The stress he was now spewing to a cheery child in the middle of the morning. It’s humiliating but still, Franklin couldn’t keep this in anymore.

Franklin: I drank too much, ran my mouth to the wrong person, and got thrown out here. Now I’m whining to a kid on the street like a dumb drunk.

Penny: You’re not a dumb drunk, Franklin. Just a very stressed young man who’s made some poor decisions while seeking relief. Which includes public intoxication.

Franklin: Oh shit, really? Come on man.

Penny: But since you aren’t being a public nuisance or danger and this is the first time I’ve seen you here it would be excessive to site you for it.

Franklin pulls his head up and stares at Penny with hopeful eyes.

Franklin: S-so you’re not gonna-

Penny: No, not today at least.

A weak smile forms on the man’s face as for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he’d been given some grace.

Franklin: Thank you, Ma’am. I don’t know what I would’ve done if-

Penny: But-

She cuts him off, Franklin shrinking back a little at the prospect of this free chance having a catch. Penny notes his nervousness and quickly continues to lull the situation down.

Penny: You can’t stay here, and I don’t want to see you here again. There’s a library not far from here a safe space for homeless and lost people to rest for a few hours. Go take a nap and get the rest of the alcohol out of your systems then go home, okay?

Franklin: B-but I haven’t been to a library since I was a kid. I got no clue where to go.

Penny: Oh. Well then-

Penny stands back up, dust herself off then offers a hand to Franklin, the morning sun beaming down on her forming an almost halo-like ring.

Penny: I’ll just have to lead you there.

Franklin takes her hand and Penny pulls him to his feet, leading him away from the bar and toward the library. By the time they part ways, Penny realizes the detour made her miss her break time. She signs, a little disappointed at the missed rest time, but marches along without a second thought. Continuing her patrol delighted by the knowledge she’s helped someone down on their luck.

By lunchtime, Penny’s arrived at the Huntsman and Military Academy and is ready to take her first real break of the day. Heading to the cafeteria, she passes by many huntsmen in training on their way to class or walking in the same direction. Some wave to her, others give her a quick hello, and a few look a little intimidated by her presence. Penny just waves back and greets them warmly as she enters the cafeteria. Getting in line with the other students and waiting patiently for her turn to order, lets her arm sway slightly at her side with every step forward. When she’s finally at the counter Penny picks a tray and utensils then looks at the selection of sustenance on offer. Depending on the day and time some foods would be low in stock, high, completely gone, or replaced with something else entirely. This and the creativity of the cooks meant the menu was always changing and that meant Penny always found something need to try every day. Looking at the spread, which was separated by food group, Penny decides to be adventurous and get a little of everything. Looking up from the food to the cafeteria worker, Ms. Asa, Penny gives her a winning smile as she greets her.

Penny: Good afternoon, Ms. Asa.

Ms. Asa: Hello Penny, what would you like to eat today?

Penny: I’d like on serving of kimchi fried rice, a serving of steamed aubergine, a fruit salad cup, and a small piece of the rotisserie chicken. Oh! And a pudding cup, please.

Ms. Asa chuckles and shakes her head before grabbing the tray from Penny and filling it up. The first time she was here it came as a bit of a surprise as most who knew the girl was a robot had no idea she could eat, nor that she had such a healthy appetite. Frankly, she was no different than most active huntresses but still, her enthusiasm for food was adorable and was just what the grizzled old lunch lady needed during her shift. When she’s got everything, the girl asked for on the tray, she sides it back to her and motions to the next student to step up as Penny takes her food and moves down the line.

Grabbing a cup of iced water to go with her meal, Penny strides around the cafeteria until she finds the door to the outdoor seating area. Usually, she’d be all for sitting among the students and socializing while she ate but not today. Today she had some special company to keep during her lunch break. Sitting down at one of the metal picnic tables a bit further from the cafeteria, Penny sets down her food and drink then takes off her backpack just as her scroll starts to ring. She places her bag firmly on the ground then takes out her scroll and props it up as she sits down. Adjusting the angle of the camera until she and her lunch are in proper view of the viewfinder before finally answering the video call. Soon the visage of Whitley sitting in one of the libraries in his home, tucked in a corner most would most likely not see if they weren’t actively looking for it. He waves to her with his free hand, and she waves back as their afternoon call commences.

Whitley: Hello again.

Penny: Hi, did you finish all your work?

Whitley: For the moment, but I still have some calls to make and invoices to review so I can’t be long.

Penny: Aw.

Penny pouted, she hated how much Whitley worked especially since he also studied and ran the manor when his father wasn’t around. It always meant their time was short and he was always stressed even if he hide it well.

Penny: Please tell me you’ve at least eat something before you called me.

She questions, hoping her love had remembered to do the bare minimum to care for himself while she wasn’t within sight.

Whitley: Yes, I had a cold club sandwich and a glass of mineral water.

Penny: Is that all?

Whitley: Unfortunately.

Penny: Whitley!

She whines, frustrated by causal his admittance.

Penny: You know you can’t keep doing this! Your metabolism is too fast for you to eat so little; you need to eat more, or you’ll end up malnourished!

Whitley: I know, and I’ll be sure to eat well the next time I come see you.

Penny: That’s not the point. You should be eating adequately even when we’re not together!

Whitley: But I just can’t help it, food taste so much better with you around. Your presence just nurtures my appetite. In more ways than one.

He muses sweetly with a smirk and wink, bringing the argument to a full stop as Penny breaks out into a blush for the second time today. Whitley chuckles at her adorable, flustered face, breaking the tension, and Penny eventually cracks a smile. Founding the humor in how easily Whitley got her again and happy to see her prince smiling just as easily. With the mood lift Whitley picks up the conversation.

Whitley: Now if we’re done with the topic of my lunch, I’m really interested in the colorful spread you’ve picked up. Looks like you have a taste of every kingdom on your plate.

Penny: Incorrect, I only have dishes from three out of the four kingdoms. I’m missing Vacuo.

Whitley: Oh pity, it would’ve been a treat to watch you react to the flavor differences.

Penny: I know but three of four is still a good ratio for trying new things.

She states with a smile before digging her fork into the rice and taking a bite. Whitley’s eyes widen as he recognizes the redness of the dish and tries to warn her.

Whitley: W-wait, don’t start with that!

Penny looks at him through the scroll screen quizzically until the lovely sour taste of the pickled cabbage is suddenly overpowered by burning spice! Penny yanks the fork out of her mouth and sticks her tongue, trying to keep the burning from spreading. Seeking relief, Penny grabs the fruit cup and sips some of the juice to quell the heat, much to the horror of Whitley.

Whitley: No! That won’t-

But before he could finish his warning it's too late, the burn spreads through Penny’s mouth as she swallows the juice! Causing her to slam the small fruit cup onto the table as she begins flailing!

Penny: HOT! HOT! HOT! HOT! HOT!

She cries, this newly found pain reaction making her panic and once again seek the most obvious option to alleviate it by drinking her water. She takes a big gulp, washing away most of the spice down her throat. Most of the tingle in her mouth is gone but still remains in the back of her throat, burning slightly every time she breaths but is much less painful than earlier. Penny lets out a few short coughs from the irritation before finally calming from the onslaught of spice.

Whitley: So, I take it you’re not a fan of spicy food.

He jokes but Penny shoots him a hard glare and the entire incident is overlooked immediately as they move on with their conversation. During this Penny vents about what happened to Franklin and her frustration with the state of Mantle’s factory workers.

Penny: He wasn’t even in the direct path of the thieves but still he and many of his co-workers are dealing with the fallout of it!

Whitley: And there are still no clues as to where they’ve been hiding the stolen shipments?

Penny: No. There has been no sign of any of the materials being smuggled out, resold, or even destroyed! They just vanished along with the thieves who leave a trail of destruction in their wake every single time!

Penny almost shouts as she stabs into her chicken and cuts out a bite. As she huffily stuffs her face, Whitley ponders the thefts and the oddity of the ongoing heist.

Whitley: They’ve taken a hefty amount of high-grade materials, disturbed an enormous contact between multiple powerful companies, and made themselves enemies of the state by taking from the military, not to mention all the harms they’ve caused to both civilians and soldiers. And yet, they’ve done absolutely nothing with the spoils of their heist? Strange.

The unusual nature of the situation confuses Whitley and as he contempts possible motives behind the crime he glances at the time and realizes it’s getting close to 2 p.m.

Whitley: Oh dear, seems like I’ve run out of time.

Penny stops eating and swallows before setting her utensils down with a pout.

Penny: Already?

Whitley: Afraid so. Don’t worry I’ll still call you again before bed tonight.

Penny: Promise?

Whitley: Of course, how else am I supposed to have good dreams without your beautiful voice lulling me to sleep?

He says, jokingly propping his head on his hand and closing his eyes to mimic sleep. Penny giggles at the display and then reaches over to the end call button.

Penny: Okay, see you tonight.

Whitley: See you.

He waves to her as Penny hangs up and resumes eating her lunch. She avoids the rice for a while until it’s the only thing left on the tray besides the pudding. Not wanting to be wasteful Penny had to pair the spice rice with gulps of water just to get it all down, only knowing true relief once she has a spoonful full of sweet milk chocolate pudding. The comfort from the dulling spice and sweetness of soft treat makes it extra delicious. When the pudding’s gone Penny wipes her mouth with a napkin, dumps her trash, puts her tray into wash bin before heading to the training center to start the next part of her day. The rest of her afternoon is spent watching over the sessions of many huntsmen, both in training and professional, and reset the room to suit each teams need or requested difficulty.

During this she gets a text from Neon, asking how she’s doing and if she needs some company over the weekend to help with her whole “lost love” situation. Penny looks at the text intensely as she realizes the possible predicaments that could arise from this.

Penny: I need to find a way to tell her about him without revealing Whitley’s identity or lying before she tricks me into telling her or starts stalking me over it.

Penny thought as she types back a noncommittal response to keep her at bay for a day or two. She continues on with her work until it’s time to depart to the outpost to fill out her daily reports. With the day being a calmer one Penny doesn’t have to stay too long and rounds out her documentation in less than an hour. Clocked out for the day Penny heads home smiling gingerly as the sun sets on the horizon. When she arrives home, she is welcomed back with the sight of her dad at the dinner table and a takeout bag. Seems Pietro had needed more rest than he’d thought and couldn’t muster up the strength to cook. No problem, Penny never minded a substation as long as she had her dad and a good meal to share.

After dinner and talking about each other’s day, Penny helps clear the table before going upstairs to unwind. Some little reading and weapon cleaning takes up much of her downtown before her nightly shower. After which she brushes her teeth, and changes into pajamas before plopping down on her bed and staring at her scroll. She fidgets around as she waits for Whitley’s return call, checking her face and teeth for food residue or grime through the camera app a few times as she sits. Until finally, after many painstaking minutes, she gets the video call. Penny picks up immediately and almost squeals at the sight of Whitley in his pajamas and towering off his wet hair. His skin seemed aglow from the recent bathing, steaming still tricking off him. The edges of his carefully brushed hair had curled upward after being drenched from a good wash.

Penny: So cute!!!

Penny loved seeing him like this but was also frustrated by it. It was just so unfair for him to look so cute like that and be so far away! And since it was right after a shower his hair would be soft and fluffy when it dried and the lingering scent of his body wash and shampoo would make him smell especially good too! At this very moment, Whitley Schnee was at his absolute most cuddlable and Penny couldn’t be there to hold him!

Penny: I wanna hug him. I wanna snuggle and cuddle him up so bad!!!

She thinks enthusiastically, grabbing one of her pillows and giving it a good squeeze to help suppress her hug craving.

Whitley: Uh, Penny?

Their gaze met as Whitley finishes drying off his hair and rests the towel on his shoulders.

Whitley: What are you doing, love?

Penny: Hugging.

Whitley: I can see that, but why are you hugging a pillow? And so tight?

He asks with a chuckle and Penny responds matter of factly.

Penny: Because I want to hug you.

Whitley: Excuse me?

For the first time today, Whitley’s face goes bright red as he gets flustered by Penny’s bluntness. The blush goes beyond his face, as his ears, neck, and the top of his shoulders become rosy. Penny takes in his disposition and decides to enact a little counterattack for the day’s teasing.

Penny: I said I want to hug you. But I can’t right now so I’m hugging this pillow and I’ll keep hugging it until I can hug you again.

Penny states with a cheeky grin as she pulls the pillow closer, holding it right on top of her chest. Whitley averts his gaze, trying to hide the ting of jealousy he felt for the little square of cotton and stuffing laying where his head should be, and attempts to redirect the conversation before he loses his cool.

Whitley: I-I see. W-well I hope you plan on showing the same affection you’re giving that silly cushion.

Penny: No.

Whitley freezes, a little taken aback by her answer. A look of confusion and annoyance flashes on Whitley’s face as he internally questions why a pillow was suddenly entitled to more love than him! But his thoughts are cut short as Penny continues.

Penny: This is just a substitute to keep me calm for a while. It’s a limiter, so when I see you again, I’ll be able to unleash all my restrained cuddling desire onto you! Just like you said I could!

Penny cheers, reminding Whitley of the sly promise he’d made that very morning in his bout of playful teasing. Whitley himself looked a bit shocked at how easily she’d used his own words against him like that. But then again, it was he who had taught her that like trick hadn’t it?

Whitley: A-Ah, right. I did say something like that, didn’t I?

Penny: Yes, you did. So be prepared because I’m not holding back when I see you again!

She says cheerfully and without a hint of shame, making Whitley blush even brighter. From the tips of his ears to the top of his chest, the boy was red as a fresh cherry. Complete and utterly defeated by his precious lover in another round of flirting.

Whitley: I-I’ll ready myself for the onslaught. Now, how was your day?

Knowing when to back down Whitley backs off from the flirtation and the conversation turns into more mundane topics. They chat about nothing and everything until Whitley starts to get drowsy, deep yawns alerting him to his body’s need for rest. He tries to push past the tiredness and stay on the line, but Penny insists he goes to sleep immediately for the good of his health. Too tired and too in love to fight her on it, Whitley bids Penny goodbye for the night.

Whitley: Good night, my love. Sleep tight and have sweet dreams.

Penny: I’ll try, good night Whitley.

He blows her a kiss before hanging up and Penny plugs in her scroll then herself. She wraps herself in her covers and gets into a cozy position before drifting off into slumber. Though things had not returned back to normal like she wanted, Penny’s day-to-day had changed for the better in many ways. And hopefully, if she kept working hard things would one day return to a more comfortable and safer situation for everyone in the kingdom. But until then she would take life day by day, holding on to its joys and hurdles as they came.

#rwby fanfiction #fanfic #penny polendina #rwby #beta testers #fanfiction #whitley schnee #angst #fluff #cute #broken machines

6 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 1 year

Text

Announcement: Book 2: Release Date and Raffle Closure

Hello everyone, Dreamer here again, and right now we’re a week off from Between The Shadows release. The first two chapters will drop on May 5, 2023, and all subsequent chapters will release on the fifth of each month in pairs until January 2024 (if I’m lucky). The fanart contest also ends on the release date, so, please make your submission before then, and the winner will be announced the following month along with the one-shot chapter.

Thank you for reading and have a great day.

#rwby fanfiction #fanfic #beta testers #penny polendina #whitley schnee #fanfiction #rwby #contest #release date

6 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 1 year

Text

Hello everyone this is Dream with the announcement I warned about a few weeks ago. I know we just wrapped up the last chapter of this fic but I’m happy to tell you that the story is far from over. Book Two: Between The Shadows, will start in May with a one to two chapter upload per month schedule. This book will be around half the length of the first with Whitley as the leading man character for the most part. This book will focus on the established but still, new romantic relationship between Whitley and Penny and the lead-up to a Volume 7 & 8 rewrite by yours truly.

I hope to finish this book by 2024 then if it's well-received continue with the last book: Warring Light.

This will be a big twist of cannon and many elements from RWBY proper with the points of view coming from the people in Atlas and Mantle over Team RWBY and co. The maiden powers, Ironwood’s actions, The people’s reaction to the campaign party massacre, Robyn’s true nature, and more will be changed to suit with this story's canon and character writing. Warning now: There will be callouts made to Team RWBY. The last book will not shy away from the tragedy, death, and suffering war brings anywhere it happens. This will be a tense book for every characters which is why book 2 is where it is. It is set to and the last bit of fluff before shit gets real. Enjoy it while you can.

One last thing, since this story has gone on for so long l would like to ask for links to any fan art any of you kind readers might have seen or made since the story began as I’d like to make a collage out of it as a thank you. I will also choose one artist at random to write a short fic on this ship in any theme they choose. Please leave your links in the comments.

Rules for the artist raffle:

1. No NSFW

2. No Death or Violence Between The Main Ship Or Allies

3. No Tracing Or Claiming Others Work As Your Own (I will reverse image search every piece I receive) 4. Must be a scene from the story.

Thank you for reading and coming along on my writing journey. Please stay tuned for Book 2.

#rwby fanfiction #fanfic #beta testers #fanfiction #new book #annocement #writing raffle #raffle #please read all rules before posting or submitting

6 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 1 year

Text

Broken Machines: Lights the Dark

Chapter 32: Free Fall

For the next two weeks, Whitley was strikingly productive in all areas. Working hard to keep up with his new schedule and following orders flawlessly with a pep in his step, his previous gloominess seemingly disappearing overnight. Jacques was quite satisfied with this outcome while the staff and Willow still worried for the young boy’s well-being. Little did they know Whitley had plenty to be happy about, not that he would let any of them know that as he stealthily carried out his plans. The first of which was to gather the resources he’d need for his little “trip”, starting with a phone. With his father busy with prepping for his campaign Whitley was tasked with managing the cleaning out of the old things as Jacques bought new clothes and electronics for his up-and-coming political career. This meant he had to organize the removal of all the family members' old clothing and swiping out older tech for the latest models without losing any data.

Whitley chose to start with the electronic for a medley of reasons. He purchases the technology, supervises their delivery, and handles the data transfers himself. When no one’s looking he copies files that could be or are incriminating to different drives and has Mary hide them in an old dresser in the back of a nearly abandoned storage room, one of their many hiding places for evidence. As he looked through a stack of burner phones, Whitley noticed some were still in their packaging unused.

Whitley: Perfect.

He thought before pocketing a couple of them for himself and disposing of and replacing the rest. With step one out of the way step two begins. What is step two? Money. Getting anywhere in any city always required some money and for what Whitley had planned he’d need a lot of it. Taking advantage of the clean-out Whitley gathers together all the clothes, shoes, and accessories he’s outgrown and calls Julia in for assistance. She comes into his room a bit confused but willing to help in any way she can. Whitley greets her warmly as he finishes separating the clothes into piles.

Whitley: Thank you for coming Julia. I know your section has been busy recently.

Julia: It’s nothing, Young Master. Now, what did you need my help with?

Whitley: It’s a bit of an odd question but I’d like to know what the market value would be for some of my old things.

He says gesturing toward the neatly stacked piles of apparel. Julia steps forward and looks over the items carefully. Being a Mantle-born fashionista, she’d thrifted or bargained for most of the high-quality goods she owned so she knows the discount and resell market like the back of her hand. And from what she could see these piles could easily be gold mines. The clothes were of great quality, from good brands, and very lightly used, they’d turn a quick profit if sold to the right thrift shops or an even bigger profit if sold separately online. As for the bit of jewelry in the mix, last season's cufflinks, watches, and the like could easily be pawned for a hefty price. Yes, this could be a good hall if sold correctly the type that could feed a small family for a month or two if they budget well.

Julia: Yes, yes.

She states nodding as she picks up a shirt and inspects it closely, trying to calculate just how much it could sell for at this very moment.

Julia: Honestly, this shirt alone could sell for at least 10000 lien give or take a few thousand depending on the store. And the jewelry could be up to 50000 a piece if pawn off and maybe double that if put up for auction.

Whitley: I see.

Whitley walks to her side and picks up the piles closest to them, gently placing a few pieces of jewelry on top before revealing the real task he needs her to do.

Whitley: Then would you mind selling these off for me?

Julia: Excuse me?

Whitley: Instead of disposing of these clothes I want you to sell them. Quickly and quietly if possible.

Julia: Ookay? But may I ask why? What would you have to gain from selling some old clothes for what amounts to chump change to someone of your prestige?

Whitley: Oh, it’s not about the money I just wanted to research the topic a little for the sake of the Father’s campaign.

Julia: For Master’s campaign?

Whitley: Yes, with him running for a role that affects not just Atlas but the entire kingdom we'll be in the public eye more than ever, and as you know my father doesn’t have the best reputation with people outside high society.

Julia: Indeed. Though that’s the understatement of the freakin century.

Whitley: So, I’m looking into ways to help him appeal to the working class. But with him buying himself a new campaign wardrobe and this cleanup I realized this all could seem extremely wasteful to the general public and put him at an even greater disadvantage with Mantle voters than he already is. So, I decided to try a few different methods of disposing of old goods firsthand before proposing anything to Father.

Julia: I see, but wouldn’t donating be more-

Whitley: And because of this is out your usual duties I’ll give you 40% of the profit for your assistance.

Julia: Pardon?

Julia’s eyes widen at bit as she pauses her questions at the offer of extra monetary gains. Whitley doesn’t change his expression but gives her a second to calm down from her surprise before he continues.

Whitley: I’ll give you 40% percent of the earnings as a handling fee while I hold on to the rest for future donation if things start looking grim. This way I can create a trail of reselling and have a nice mint to drop on whatever cause is most influential when the time is right. So, will you help me?

Julia: O-of course! It would be my pleasure!

Whitley: Thank you, Julia. Please try to get it done as soon as possible.

Julia: Yes, sir! I’ll get it done before the end of the week!

She says cheerfully while taking the stack and rushing out of the room to go find a good box to store them in. Whitley waves her off before getting back to work and to planning. With step two in motion, step three would be his focus until the funds were secured. Step three was simple, figuring out transportation. Living in a large city, especially the capital of the kingdom, meant that transport was both public and private were commonplace. A ride between cities, either way, was just a phone call and cab fare away, and the vast subway situation was easy to navigate if you had a map and train pass. Whitley only had to do was doing some research between paperwork and indirectly asking Godfrey what station he use to pick Penny up from, disguising the question as gathering information about the transportation system for one of his father’s campaign speeches. Now that he had a route, funds were coming in and he had the means to communicate all Whitley could do now was wait. Wait until he found an opening, a chance to make his move and get to the hard part of his plan.

Meanwhile, Penny was managing her return to normalcy decently well. There had been some fallout coming from the theft situation, lowering trust in officials, more bar brawlers on weekdays and street thugs moving away from the factory routes to around the subway to find easier prey, but she handle it all gracefully. Penny still performed her job with the same efficiency as before and was less tired because of her newly scheduled break times. Ten minutes in the morning, a lunch break after patrol, and ten in the afternoon. The last break happening after her duties of overseeing training sessions or once she’s done checking in on the Maiden with Winter. That part being the newest and only addition to her schedule that she was aware of before it happened. Monday and Friday she would join Winter and help care for Freya, making sure she takes her medication, checking her for bed sores, helping her do light exercises to keep her fit, and overall, just making sure she’s comfortable as she approaches the end of her days. It was a little outside Penny’s field of expertise but being ever the quick learner Penny picks up the care task quickly. The only real drawback was Freya’s attitude, she was often quiet but quick to grumpiness when upset, and when Freya got upset her powers would go haywire. Which was only made worse by the fact she doesn’t particularly like Winter enough to be calmed by her presence. So, it was up to Penny to mitigate these outbursts in the stead of the Winter Maiden’s actual successor.

By the second Friday after her reassignment, Penny had a good understanding of how to handle Freya. After finishing her lunch in the cafeteria, she meets up with Winter in the connecting hallway and heads to the Maiden’s room. Penny avoids looking directly at Winter as her features only reminded her of the person her heart still aches for. Just the thought of him still made her chest burn with a deep pain strong enough to make her sob. But she couldn’t fall into that pit of despair right now, not when there was work to be done.

Since it’s Freya’s lunchtime, Winter, plates her meal while Penny prepares Freya some tea. The elderly woman was always more manageable when she’d had her tea and Penny had figured out just the right way to make hers. The steps change a little with the type she’d have that day, but the jest was she liked the temperature just below boiling due to the cold surrounding her, three teaspoons of sugar put in before the water, so it dissolves quickly, and a few drips honey and lemon to add a soft natural taste. It wasn’t the proper way to make tea but if this simple thing made a dying woman a little cozier then what’s the harm?

Penny walks out first, giving Freya her tea with a sweet smile, the aged Maiden taking the cup silently while looking directly into Penny’s eyes. Penny averts her gaze from her to avoid making awkward eye contact and her sight falls to the same painting that caught her eye last time. Though now something about felt different from her last viewing as she stares at it. The light the girl was holding up seemed so heavy the more she looked at it, the spirals at the edges making it seems like a drain sucking the light into one large mass. And the girl, even though she was just a silhouette seeing her among the vast mountains by herself holding such a heavy light gave Penny an odd sense of loneliness.

Penny: She looks so young and small. I wonder why she’s out there on her own, holding something so heavy.

She muses to herself, not noticing Freya’s gaze on her. But her thoughts are soon halted by Winter approaching with Freya’s lunch. Quickly breaking out of her daze, Penny helps set the track table and clean up the dish when Freya has her fill of it. It’s not long until she’s done for the day and on her way to make her daily reports before going home.

At around that same time, Whitley’s plan was coming together nicely. Julia had come through with thrifting and sold the first stack for a nice profit, the phone was set up to a billing account he had access to as part of taking on some of the household duties and his route to get to Mantle by taxis then by train was set now that he had cash in hand to pay for the fares. And lastly but most importantly his father was leaving for the weekend for a stay at a colleague’s hotel to talk over possible campaign donations and policies with a few titans of the labor industry. As Jacques was headed out the door, he reiterated his expectations for the weekend to Whitley.

Jacques: The paperwork should be done no later than tomorrow night, and I expect this house to be clean and tidy when I return. This that clear?

Whitley: Of course, Father. Leave everything to me.

Jacques nods at his obedience before turning around and heading out the door toward the waiting limousine. Whitley waves him off and watches him leave from the doorway, a fake smile plastered on so metal it be impossible to tell that it was purely for show.

Whitley: He’s getting in, sitting down, he’s barking orders at the driver again, aaaaaaand-

Soon the limousine shifted into gear and drives off the property, Whitley waits until the vehicle is completely out of sight to grab the front door handles then slams them shut. He turns to face the near staff members he can find and with a calm smile as he issues a simple order.

Whitley: Tell the cooks not to bother with making my dinner tonight, I’d like to go to bed early.

Those who heard him nod in compliance, one goes off to relay the message to the kitchen as Whitley walks back to his room. Once alone he’s quick to finish his work at lightning speed, it wasn’t anything difficult, so it wasn’t too hard to get through it fast without making any mistakes. He double-checks his work before getting up from his desk and walking to his wardrobe. He retrieves the money and phone from their hiding spots at the bottom and then changes into the outfit he’s chosen for his little outing. A long black coat with no branding on it, a plain white dress shirt, black pants, navy socks, a pair of dark gray winter boots, and gloves. This was the most casual set of clothing he owns; they were also some of the most well-lined and warm. Even though both cities had city-wide heating systems Mantle’s was far weaker from the higher weather damage and Grimm wear and tear. And judging from the weather report this week had been a little colder than usual. Knowing this Whitley also grabs a winter cap and scarf for extra warmth and wind protection as well as a face mask he’d swiped from a supply closet to hide his face. He couldn’t risk being recognized by anyone while he was out, less his father hears of it.

He up a pillow dummy in his bed and takes the pocket watch out from its hiding spot, kissing it for luck before sliding into his pocket. Whitley waits by the door for a bit until he knows the night rotation has shifted out of the way then makes his exit. Being stuck in the manor for most of his life had given Whitley one advantage in this endeavor, he knew this house like the back of his hand. When things had gotten rough between Weiss and Jacques and the during the fallout of her going to Beacon Klein had made sure Whitley knew every secret passage and hidden room in the manor in case of an emergency. Sometimes, during Jacques’s more destructive tantrums, Whitley would warn the staff to take cover and then hide himself in a crawl space until the situation had calmed down enough for him to interfere. It was all he could do to prevent further harm during those rampages. But now the knowledge would serve a different purpose, as a means to escape.

Quietly dashing through the halls, Whitley sneaks into the east wing and opens the secret passage behind a faux bookcase. Making his way through the tunnels and outside, he takes a moment to breathe the cold night air and shake off the dust from the unused space before making a b-line for the driveway. With the road ahead of him clear Whitley takes a look back at the manor, fear, and hesitance creeping, but he pulls his gaze back quickly. Turning his head down and shutting his eyes tightly, as the reality of what he’s doing sets in.

Whitley: I shouldn’t be out here. If I get caught there’s no telling what he’ll do! This could end bad, really bad. Can I really risk everything I’ve worked so hard for over-

As he starts to second-guess his decision an image of Penny passes through his mind, and he pauses. He takes a deep breath and exhales with a sign before opening his eyes, a look of determination glimmering in the blue of his irises.

Whitley: Yes, I can. She’s worth it. And I know I won’t feel whole again until I see her again.

He thinks steeling his resolve as he marches down the driveway and onto the open road. He walks until he’s a good distance from the manor and pulls out the spare scroll to call a taxi. He waits by the road until he sees the light from the sign atop the cab approaching and waves the driver down with the flash from the scroll. He gets in, keeping his head down he doesn’t say a word to the driver and shows him the directions to the station with the scroll. The driver groans at his impersonal style of communication but pulls off towards the station, nonetheless. The drive feels extremely long, the sounds of top-ten music blaring from the cab’s radio barely registering to Whitley as he tries to stay calm and focused. Once they arrive at the train station rain begins to fall. Whitley pays the fee before getting out and walking into the station. It was quite busy being the night before the weekend, young people were coming up to splurge their cash at Atlas bars and nightclubs, and working-class people of ages were heading home to rest after a hard week of work. The place reeked of dust, sweat, bodily odor, and cleaning solution, thankfully Whitley’s mask provided enough filtration for to breath it in without gagging as he walks to a counter to buy a train pass. Around this time Whitley considers calling his contact in Mantle before getting on the train but quickly dismisses the thought. Knowing how he’d react if he called now, he’d do everything in his power to convince Whitley to go home before anything could happen to him, but he’d come too far to turn back!

Whitley: Better to ask forgiveness than permission in this case.

He thought as the teller at the counter hands him his pass. Whitley nods in thanks as he takes his pass and heads to the platform his train would be arriving at. The wait for the train his more nerve-wracking than the drive as the hustle and bustle of the people around giveWhitley some sensory overload. But still he just keeps breathing. He wasn't going to be shaken, he was a man on a mission and he damn well would see it through to the end! He takes out the pocket watch to check the time, the shine of his beloved trinket easing his anxiety ever so slightly.

Whitley: It shouldn’t be long if the schedule’s right.

He thought before closing the watch back, rubbing his finger over the snow lily imprint on its front before putting it away. As if on cue the train to Mantle finally pulls into the station, and as the doors open to let the passengers out Whitley files into the crowd of people entering the nearest train car. He stands instead of taking a seat, holding onto a standing pole to secure himself as the conductor announces their destination before closing the doors and pulling the train out of the station. Whitley gets lost in the sounds of chattering people and the feeling of weightlessness as the train begins to make its descent into the lower city.

Back at the manor Mary has grown anxious after thinking over Whitley’s recent behavior. She knew he’d fall into a depression after losing Penny, it was obvious that her departure would devastate him, especially with how Jacques went about it. No, what worried Mary was just how fast Whitley had rebounded from that depression. The light in his eyes had deemed so quickly but returned just as fast and burned even brighter than before. He seemed more driven, so full of purpose but with the position, they were in it made no sense. Sure, the cleanup had provided them an opportunity to look through some of Jacques’s more sensitive documents and make backups to add to their evidence log but the path to the goalpost was still far ahead. Jacques was seeking political power now and depending on his success, it could be a good thing or bad thing for them in the long term. Whitley still had a couple of years until legal adulthood and with no trusted adults capable of combating Jacques on their side Whitley was still stuck in his position. Until he comes of age, he wouldn’t be able to make a claim on the SDC without a proxy.

Mary: So, what’s gotten him so riled up?

Mary thought as she turns a corner, marching down the hallway to Whitley’s room. She knows he should be asleep by now and if she was quiet, she could check to see what’s been going through his head with her semblance without him knowing. Unlocking the door with her master key, Mary can feel something was off immediately. She doesn’t bother looking around, walking straight to his bed, and the moment her hand touches the mass through the blankets she knows he’s slipped out of the manor somehow.

Mary: God damnit.

Mary swears under her breath, she sits down on the bed and holds her head in frustration. What was he thinking? Why would he pull a stunt like this when he knows what could happen if he’s caught?

Mary: The hell was he thinking? What could’ve possibly driven him to-Oh shit, don’t tell me-

Thinking about everything that’s happened Mary realizes there’s only one reason Whitley would have does this for. She covers her face with both hands as anger and annoyance begin to cloud her vision.

Mary: Ugh, Unbelievable! This is a straight off tragic romance novel!

She grumbles, her foot tapping anxiously as she tries to think of what to do. She pulls out her scroll and calls his scroll but hears it ringing in the room, spotting it on his desk. Getting up and grabbing the scroll Mary is growing angrier by the second. She takes a second to breath and collect herself while she tries to concoct a plan of action. The answer comes to her as she recalls her dealings as a youth, she’d written plenty of teenage romantic fluff off the memories of her peers and she knew well how stories like these played out. Looking down at Whitley’s scroll Mary wonders if he’d ever deleted Penny’s contacts.

Mary: If he’s going act like a tragic male lead then let’s see how his leading lady feels about his dramatic escape.

She says sarcastically, seating down while she attempts to lock his scroll.

Down in the lower city Whitley’s train finally reaches its stop, the train car jerks to a stop as the conductor announces the station and opens the door. Whitley’s swept up with crowd as he gets off, moving with the sea of people until he manages to break away by the gates. Stepping to the side he takes out his scroll and daily the number of the only people he trusted to help him find his way through the city.

In the upstairs apartment of the Little Cave Antiques Klein’s getting ready for bed. He’s putting on his pajamas when his scroll starts to ring. He picks it up off the nightstand and looks at the caller ID and though he doesn’t recognize the number Klein still answers the call like the gentleman he is.

Klein: Good evening, this is Klein Sieben. How may I help you?

Whitley: It’s me, Klein.

Klein’s eyes go wide and turn a bright shade of yellow at the sound of his former young master on the line. He taps his feet, and his voice is full of joy as he replies to the young men’s statement.

Klein: Young Master? Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise! To what do I know the pleasure of this evening call!

Whitley: I need your help, I’m in Mantle.

Klein: Excuse me?

Whitley: I’m in Mantle, Klein. I snuck out, took the train from Atlas and now I’m waiting by the gate at the station.

Klein: You did, what?!

Klein is completely dumbfounded, taking almost half a minute to fully comprehend what he just heard. When the words finally click in his head, Klein lets out a shriek as his eyes cycle through several colors as he flips out! Whitley turns down the volume on his scroll to save his hearing and lets Klein have his moment of shock uninterrupted. When the older man finally calms down his eyes turn bright red, and his voice lowers to a grumble as he scolds the boy for his irresponsible actions.

Klein: WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING! SNEAKING OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, AND TO MANTLE OF ALL PLACES! WHAT IN GOD’S NAME POSSESSED YOU TO THINK THIS WAS ANY KIND OF GOOD IDEA! MUCH LESS GO THROUGH WITH IT?!

Whitley: I’m sorry Klein but I was desperate. There’s someone down here I need to see, and I need your help to find them.

Klein sighs, he was used to Weiss’s strong emotional outbursts but this was completely out of pocket for Whitley.

Klein: Couldn’t you have found a better way than doing something this risky?! If your father hears of this there’s no telling what he’ll do to you!

Whitley: I know but I couldn’t wait anymore.

Klein: You couldn’t wait? You couldn’t wait so you snuck away from home to another city at this late hour?! What could possibly be so important that you’d risk his wrath for this?!

Whitley: Because-Because I couldn’t take it anymore more!

Whitley’s voice strains causing Klein’s eyes flash back to brown and his anger to disallow. Whitley grits his teeth, his voice was so weak and hurt, like a tiny, injured animal as he explains himself.

Whitley: I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep that man’s fury at bay. I’ve watched him drive my mother into endless alcohol binge and run my sisters off in his vain attempts to control everything. But for once..for once in my life, I had someone who made me feel happy! I had someone whose smile gave me the strength to actually try to live, to just be okay with…being me. And he tossed her out as soon as he saw that I wasn’t miserable!

Klein: Whitley.

Whitley: I..love her, Klein. I love her so much it feels like I’m rotting without her. My heart’s ached every single day since she left, and it gets worse and worse with every day she’s not here. I dream about her, I think about her every day, and the fact I couldn’t be with her hurt so much it feels like my chest going to cave in! So, when I saw an opportunity to go find her, I couldn’t resist.

He admits, fist clenched tightly against his chest as he holds back tears. Despite his venture being carefully planned and researched Whitley had honestly acted on impulse from the moment he knew his father would be out of the manor long enough for him to make a run for it. Even in his moments of doubt his desire to see Penny outweighed all relational thought. And Klein could hear it, the yarning and years of raw pain spilling out of the child he’d watched over for so many years. He knew just how lonely and broken Whitley had become but was powerless to do anything for the boy. No one and nothing could ever truly better the dreadful condition Whitley lived in, until now. With a heavy sigh, Klein takes off his nightcap and goes out to the living room to grab his coat, hat, and shoes.

Klein: Which station are you in right now?

Whitley: Sovereign Central.

Klein: Alright. Stay put, I’ll come pick you up.

Whitley: Thank you, Klein.

Klein can hear Whitley’s smile through the phone as he tucks his umbrella under his arm and opens the apartment's front door.

Klein: You're welcome, Whitley. Now please just stay safe until I get there.

He asks before hanging up and heading out into the pouring rain, trudging through the storm to go find his young master.

Later at the Polendina residence, Penny was lounging on the couch while her dad made dinner. She’s watching tv, gloves off and kicking her feet the bunny’s ears on her house shoes flopping with every motion when suddenly her scroll rings. She’s shocked to see that Whitley’s calling her! Confused but delighted and terrifyingly nervous Penny fumbles to grab her scroll and once she’s got a firm grip on it, she takes a big deep breath before answering. After the disaster that was the last time they met, Penny has no idea what to say so she just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

Penny: H-hello?

Mary: Ms. Polendina.

With that one utterance, all of Penny’s hope instantly evaporates and is replaced with annoyance.

Penny: Mary.

She states rather coldly. Penny didn’t how to feel about the woman since they spoke in the library. Despite Mary making her intentions clear Penny couldn’t find it in herself to trust her as she was the first to acknowledge that her and Whitley’s love was doomed to fail. And the fact that her prediction turned out to be correct only made Penny feel more conflicted. Hearing her talk again filled Penny with a deep rage even though she had nothing to do with what happened. Still, Penny couldn’t help the irrational anger Mary’s voice induced, but she tries to suck it up as she probes for the reason behind her call.

Penny: Mary, why are you calling me and why are you doing so from Whitley’s scroll?

Mary: Because he left it here after he decided to so daringly ran off to Mantle to find you!

Mary states equally as annoyed as Penny. It had taken her far too long to unlock Whitley’s scroll as he had changed the password and added security blocks that triggered every few failures. After nearly two hours of trying, she’d finally opened the damned thing only to not find any clues to where he could possibly be and have her call for help be met with hostility. Though Penny’s animosity died off as soon as Mary told her what Whitley’s done as her mind clouds with confusion and worry.

Penny: He did what?

She asks in disbelief, not wanting to think that Whitley would actually sneak off to an unfamiliar place like that, especially at night when the city was at its most dangerous!

Mary: He snuck out of the manor and is probably somewhere in Mantle looking for you!

Penny: Ar-are you sure?

Mary: Yes! There’s no other reason he would do something this stupid unless it was for you! Now, I need you to find him before anyone else notices he’s gone.

Penny: I-Okay! But where would I even start to look?! Do you have any idea where he could be in the city?!

Mary: No, but Whitley’s an intelligent child so if he left behind anything that could track him then he’s probably went incognito. My best guess is public transport, or he found someone to pick him-Oh God, dammit all!

Mary clutches her head as she recalls a possible point of contact Whitley had in the ground city. Her sudden cursing confuses Penny, and she asks anxiously asks for clarification.

Penny: What? What happened?

Mary: It’s nothing, just go check the train stations first and I’ll call back if I find anything else.

Penny: Okay! I-I’ll try the one closest to me first! Bye!

She hangs up and pockets her scroll then rushes towards the front door. Pietro calls out to her, but Penny doesn’t hear him as she dashes out of the door and into the pouring rain. She runs towards the station; her slippers get drenched by the rainwater on the street, but Penny doesn’t care about the coldness of her feet, the dirtying of her shoes or rain soaking her clothes. Right now, her only focus is finding Whitley and making sure nothing bad happens to him. She’s going full throttle when she stops at the crosswalk for a red light, while she’s waiting for it to go green Penny watches a short man heading in the same direction slip and fall on the next street. He tries to pick himself up but slips again on the pavement. Knowing time is of the essence but being unable to turn her back on a person in need, when the light turns green Penny runs up to the man, pucks in his fallen umbrella and helps him to his feet only to find she recognizes him.

Penny: You’re the man from the antique store, Klein.

She says while handing the umbrella back to him. Said man looks at her a bit bewildered by her appearing in from him and his odd luck in this tricky situation.

Klein: Little Miss? Oh, thank goodness I ran into you! I’m in desperate need of your help right now.

Penny: What happened?

Klein: Young Master Whitley snuck out and is waiting for me at the Sovereign Central train station!

Penny: Sovereign Central-Wait Young Master! Why did you- how do you-

Klein: Because I am a former butler of the Schnee family.

Penny:…What? You used to work at the manor?

Klein: Yes. Young Master told me of you long before you came into my shop. I didn’t know it was you at first but when you deserved the boy you fancied, I know you and the girl he’d grown close with were one and the same.

Penny: But why didn’t you tell me?

Klein: It wasn’t my place to tell you. Young Master should have-Never mind that now! What matters is that Whitley is waiting at the station and came here to look for you!

Penny is gobsmacked by this information, she was too wound up with worry when Mary told her to fully process the fact Whitley really had made such a dangerous decision just to come see her. It had been less than a month since they last saw each other so it was oddly flattering but also extremely concerning that he’d go this far for her, she’d blush if it weren’t so distressing.

Klein: We need to go to him right away before some ruffians do!

Penny nods and the two start back on their rush to the station but Klein barely takes two steps forward before falling over again. Penny turns back and while helping him up she notices a rip in his pajama pants and a fresh wound on his shin.

Penny: You’re hurt!

She cries but Klein waves her off as he forces himself back onto his feet.

Klein: It’s nothing, just let me-OW!

His sentence is cut off with a yelp as Klein tries and fails to put pressure on his injured leg, forcing him onto his knees. Being no stranger to injured people Penny picks him up off the wet pavement and into a fireman’s carry, throwing his umbrella over her shoulder with him.

Klein: Wait, what are-

Penny: You’re in no condition to be out or running in this weather. I’m taking you somewhere safe to rest.

Klein: But what about Whitley?

Penny: I’ll find him after I drop you off.

Klein: But-Whoa!

Penny doesn’t give him a chance to protest and takes off running back the way she came. Once she’s back at her house Penny comes through the door and sees her dad on the phone trying to reach her only to turn around and see her carrying a man over her shoulder and drenched head to toe in rainwater. He strides over to her, face full of trepidation as he confronts her sudden actions.

Pietro: Where have you been?! I’ve been calling and calling but you won't answer?!

Penny: I’m sorry Dad, I was in a hurry and didn’t hear my scroll!

Pietro: What the-what do you mean a hurry?! You ran out of the house out of nowhere and now you come back with a man over your shoulder and all you can say is you’re in a hurry?!

Penny: I’m sorry but it was an emergency! An ongoing emergency that I need to get back to right now!

She explains while setting Klein down on the couch, the shift in position allows Pietro to see that the smaller man’s wounds.

Pietro: Is that blood- Alright what the hell is going on?! What happened to him and where-Is this the man from the antiques store?!

He asks pointing down at the wounded man, completely confused by the situation unfolding around him. Klein tips his hat in greeting before trying to better explain their current predicament.

Klein: Evening, Sir, and apologies for the sudden intrusion. Your daughter and I seem to have stumbled into quite the dilemma involving an unfortunate young man and she insisted I not go any further on an injured leg.

Pietro nods, not filling understanding what he meant but getting enough of it to know why he was currently on his couch.

Pietro: Okay but that doesn’t explain why-

His sentence is cut off by the front door slamming shut, both men look up only to see that Penny’s run off again. Pietro stares at the door stunned and confused by his dear daughter’s actions and still out of the loop of this absurd crisis he’s found himself in.

Pietro: Good God, what is happening tonight?!

He groans, rubbing his temples as a stress fueled headache coming in. His confusion is interrupted by Klein holding a hand up and waving it to get his attention.

Klein: Excuse me, but if you could be so kind as to procure me a first aid kit, I think I can clear things up for you.

Klein offers, Pietro signs and turns his chair around to go find the emergency medical kit. Whatever was going on it was bad enough that Penny was acting rashly and not thinking clearly enough to even clarify what she was doing. And that worried her dad at no end but with his physical limitations, there was no way he could stop her. All he could do was try to piece the situation together and call for help if things got out of hand. While Pietro looks through the cabinets Klein pulls out his scroll to call Whitley and update him on what’s happened only to discover his scroll practically in pieces, shattered by the fall.

Meanwhile, Whitley is still at the station waiting for Klein to arrive. He tries calling him but never gets through to the line. After multiple failed attempts to get in contact with him, Whitley puts his scroll away and contemplates what to do next. Suddenly he feels a twinge of pain in his stomach and it lowly growls in hungry. He chose not to eat earlier to keep the staff away from his room for his escape and now he was paying the consequences for that choice.

Whitley: Ugh, I should’ve grabbed something from the kitchen when I had the chance.

He laments, holding a hand to his stomach as it continues growling from its emptiness. With no way of knowing when his old friend would arrive and feeling a little fatigued from the stress and waiting Whitley decides to go grab a quick bite to eat before it gets too late.

Whitley: There should be a few places nearby that are still open at this hour.

He muses, before walking to the gate and out onto the street. Rain pouring overhead as he marches along down the street scanning the area for a restaurant, food stall, or even a convenience store to stop at. As he’s passing by an alleyway a large arm comes out from the darkness and grabs him by the shoulder, quickly pulling him into the ally way from the main street. Within a matter of seconds, Whitley’s pinned to a walk and surrounded by five thugs, a large dusty red-haired man holding him in place. The man looked like a hooligan, he was tall, balky, and has definitely seen a lot of fights, his tan face was covered in scars most of which looked like crawl marks. But those were just small pickings compared to red fox tail clipped to his leather jacket. Why you may ask? Because firstly Whitley could tell it was real fur not synthetic, secondly there were no red foxes in the frozen kingdom to hunt and lastly, it was too big to be from any sort of wild fox. With a twisted glint in his dark gray eyes and a cruel grin painted on his face, he looked at Whitley dead on as he tries to intimidate him.

???: ‘Ello there, little man.

He greets him mockingly, Whitley doesn’t talk back, nor does he break eye contact, maintaining a neutral expression as best he can while he tries to think of a way out of this mess. He’d been a victim of physical violence before, and he knew one wrong move could be the difference between grave injury and death. He didn’t know how this thug might act if he screamed or said the wrong thing so for now silence was the safest option. The thug is baffled by the lack of fear in Whitley’s eyes but kept on grinning. It was always easy to ring cash out of people when they were scared for their life but breaking down a little snot’s bravado then robbing him was much more satisfying. And so, this game intimidation continues.

Jack: Me name’s Jack, Honest Jack. Lovely night for a stroll through the city ain’t it?

Whitley says nothing, he just stares at Jack and listens hoping for an opening to flee.

Jack: I don’t think I’ve seen you ‘round here before and you look a little too fancy to from these parts neither. So what are you doing on our turf?

He asks playfully but forcibly, Whitley still doesn’t respond half out of stubbornness and half out of fear. Jack doesn’t take too kindly to his idleness this time and grips the boy’s shoulder tighter, a sickly acid aura bubbles from his hand and onto Whitley’s shoulder. It crawls across his skin to this his throat resting in his larynx and voice box like a thick mucus. Jack smiles darkly and resumes his questioning.

Jack: Alright, let me ask you again. What are you doing here?

Whitley tries to stay quiet but the bubble of mucus starts to raise, pulling his voice out of his mouth violently.

Whitley: I..Came..Here…To..Met…Some..One!

Each word comes out choked, carried up by the bubbles, and pops in the air. It hurt so much, that sentence alone made Whitley’s throat feel raw and dry. Jack marveled at the boy’s disposition, most would cry or puke halfway a few words through due to the effects of his semblance but this kid, he had one helluva pain tolerance. Wanting to see how far that tolerance went Jack keeps pressing Whitley with more questions.

Jack: Is that right? So you must’ve come from the upper city then, huh?

Whitley: Yes..I…Am!

Jack: Woah, a rich kid! Guess we’re eating good tonight boys!

He says to other thugs who cheer excitedly, delighted to have caught such bountiful prey.

Jack: That is if he’s got money on ‘em. You do have money on you, don’t cha boy?

Whitley tries again to keep quiet but bubbles dragging his voice are too strong to stop.

Whitley: Yes…I…Do!

The hoodlums murmur in joy, knowing they’d luck out with a wealthy mark. But the merriment pauses as Whitley continues to talk.

Whitely: But..I..Have..No..Inten..Tion..Of…Giv..ing..Any…Of..It...To..You!

The thugs look at him baffled by his sharp attitude, Jack especially so. This was one of the problems with his semblance, it forced honesty from people but couldn’t sugarcoat what came out. Those who weren’t stricken with fear could get a little cocky with him but he could always hear a little terror underneath it. But this one, this one had way too much moxie for the situation he was in. So Jack pressed him again, forcing more of the acid-like bubbles into the boy’s aura.

Jack: What did you say to me?

Whitley: I..Said..I’m..Not..Giv.Ing...You..Any…Thing!

Jack: Is that so? Well, aren’t you a cheeky little bastard? You think you're in any state to be acting all tough like that, huh?!

This toxic back and forth soon devolves into an argument with Whitley being unable to hold his tongue. As the two kept squabbling the commotion gets loud enough to hear from the edge of the alley. It’s this noise draws Penny’s attention as she finally closes in on the station.

She’s rushing down the street to her destination, Sovereign Central was literally within sight, but the sounds of fighting coming from a nearby ally cause Penny’s protector instincts to kick in again. She turns on her night vision and slowly down as she passed by the alley, but times seems to freeze when looks into the darning and sees a group of thugs harassing a young man. The glow in her eyes turns harsh and poisonous when she locks in on the young man’s features, specifically his snow-white hair and blue eyes. Not even thinking Penny turns on her heels and launches herself directly at Jack just as he raised his fist to punch Whitley.

The lead gangster doesn’t have time to process what’s happening as one moment he’s about to pummel a snot-nosed brat then the next he’s been pushed away with enough force to knock them a few feet away. He lands on his back, and the pain from the impact knocks him out before he can face his attacker. Seeing their boss laid out on the cold wet pavement the four remaining hooligans charge at Penny, aiming to get revenge for their fallen leader. Unfortunately for them, it’s a pointless fight. The one closest tries to lunge at Penny, she grabs his arm and pulls his stomach into her fist hard. He retches as the wind is knocked out of him out and falls to the ground. The next three go down just as easy with the second thug falling after two punches to the gut and a kick to the stomach. The third comes in right behind him and gets a kick to the face and a knee to the side, throwing him to the wall as he passes out. And the last tries to get the jump on her by rushing her from behind but he’s nowhere near fast enough or skilled enough to outmatch Penny. His attempted punch doesn’t even get to contact before she turns head and grabs his arm. Her face was cold and neutral but her glowing eyes radiated rage as she throws the large man over her shoulder then onto the pavement. In what felt like hours but was only a couple of minutes all five crooks were laid out on the alley floor, rain drenching their unconscious bodies. Throughout all this Whitley had stood frozen in the same spot he was pinned in, rubbing his sore throat and watching Penny in silent awe as she beat the daylights out of those men.

When the fight is finally over Whitley reaches out to touch her but is soon pinned to the wall again, this time by Penny! With her hands on the wall and her body less than an inch away Penny had him completely locked in place. Her expression was unreadable, and her eyes were still aglow as the gazed into Whitley’s. They stand in silence for a few seconds as the adrenaline from the altercation wears off. Whitley opens his mouth to speak, unsure of what to say in this position, but Penny bests him to the punch.

Penny: Whitley...What the…

She tries to stay calm but soon all the worry and fear she did been holding in since Mary called her. The glow in her eyes fades and her lips begin to quiver as she tries not to lose her cool.

Penny: What…the FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!

But she fails, the combination of heavy emotions throwing her mind into disarray. She couldn’t hold back the anxiety, frustration, and dread she’d been holding back since she last seen him. Knowing he was in the city alone so late at night was bad enough, but to find him getting mugged too? That was Penny’s limit, she couldn’t think straight after seeing him in danger like that.

Penny: WHY THE HELL DID YOU THINK THIS WAS OKAY TO DO?! WHAT PART OF COMING TO MANTLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT SEEMED OKAY TO YOU?! AND ALL ON YOUR OWN TOO?! DO YOU KNOW HOW SCARED I WAS WHEN I HEARD YOU RAN AWAY?! HOW COULD YOU WORRY PEOPLE LIKE THAT?! HOW-

She pauses her screaming rant as tears blur her vision and trickle down her cheeks, blending in with the rain pouring over them.

Penny: How could you do that to me?

She whimpers out, her face full of sorrow as she has a total meltdown from the emotional roller coaster this night had taken her on. Whitley looks at her concerned; he attempts to speak again but gets choked up as his own emotional wall comes crashing down. Three weeks, for three weeks he’d been without the person who’d given him more joy than he’d ever known before, and the first thing she does is save him from harm.

Whitley: How did I get so lucky to meet someone so extraordinary?

He thought before wrapping his arms around her and pulling Penny into a tight embrace! He holds her as close as possible and nuzzles into her neck, breathing in her scent as much as he can. He couldn’t help the tears of joy that fall as after almost a month he finally, finally felt whole again! He didn’t mind her soaking wet hair or clothes, or the cold rain drenching both of them, or the fact their reunion had taken place in a dingy alley of all places. No, none of that mattered as long as she was in his arms again.

Whitley: Sorry that I worried you, I just wanted…No, I..needed to see you again.

He says softly, voice sweeter than Penny had ever heard him talk before. Her anxiety born breakdown turns to a moment of comfort as she wraps her arms around him. Melting into the embrace, Penny lets out all the negative emotions she’d stored up and takes in all the love Whitley was pouring out. God, she missed him, she missed his voice she missed his scent, his touch, she missed everything about him so damn much. She’d been so sure she’d messed up her chance to be with him and love him, but this night had proven her wrong, so very wrong. As they continue holding each other Whitley puts his forehead to Penny’s, glancing deeply into her with all the love his battered heart could muster.

Whitley: I missed you so much, Penny. Please..never leave me again.

He pleads, Penny opens her mouth to reply but Whitley doesn’t give her a chance. Taking a hand off her Whitley pulls down his mask and closes the distance between them, kissing her right on the lips. Penny is stunned by the sudden kiss, her teary eyes wide in shock from sudden contact. But with a second her shock fades into joy edge melts into it quickly, closing her eyes and completely relaxing in his embrace. Despite the cold rain, Penny felt so warm, so safe, and happy. Her head felt fuzzy in a way she’d never felt before but instantly loved.

Love, real romantic love. That was something Penny could only have dreamed of not so long ago. Everything she’d been through in the last few months had seemed so impossible but strangely wonderful in ways she couldn’t have ever predicted. But now she had someone she was willing to fight any evil for without hesitation and who’d throw himself into a dangerous situation just to be with her. It was almost like a dream, one neither ever wanted to wake up from.

The moment ends when Penny’s scroll rings, breaking the warm atmosphere the young lovers had built on their reunion. Penny pulls it out and sees it’s her dad. The reality that Whitley had technically run away from home and that there were five unconscious criminals at their feet soon dawns on both and they decide to clean up the mess. Penny and Whitley assure the older men wanting a home that they’re fine and will be there shortly then Penny calls for backup to come get the thugs. It takes almost an hour to resolve things but once the police arrive, they arrest the thugs on outstanding warrants before Penny can even explain what she caught them for. The most they ask her is if she caught them trying to hassle someone again and Penny says yes. That’s enough cause to get them dragged away and give Penny and Whitley a chance to head back to her home. As they begin the long walk back Whitley takes off his coat and offers it to Penny. Penny smiled and wrapped the coat around both their shoulders.

Penny: Now, we’ll both be warm.

She says with her usual cheerful smile. Whitley smiles back at her and they walk shoulder-to-shoulder and hold hands all the way to her house, fingers intertwined as if they couldn’t be close enough. When they arrive at the house and open the front door they are greeted by the sight of Klein, bandage up and helping Pietro in the kitchen. Klein hears the door open and power walks over to welcome them back, throwing an arm around Whitley as he tries to hold back tears.

Klein: Thank the stars, you’re finally here! I was so worried you might’ve been hurt or mugged or-Gods I don’t even want to think about I’m just glad you’re alright!

Klein cries as he hugs his mischievous young master, who pats his back reassuringly.

Whitley: Sorry for worrying you. I-What happened to your leg?

He questions, pointing out the banged wound on the elder butler’s leg. Klein laughs off his concerns and regales the circumstances of this little misfortune.

Klein: Oh, this is nothing just a little scratch. One I got rushing to find you.

Whitley looks down in shame. He had never meant to cause anyone any harm in his endeavor, especially not the man who’d treated him kinder than his own father had. Klein once again waves this off and proceeds with his story.

Klein: But thankfully I had the luck of running onto the sweet young lady you came here to see.

He states pointing at Penny, who smiles at the acknowledgment, before getting back to his tale.

Klein: She helped me, carried me here for treatment, and continued the search in my stead. To great success, it would seem!

He jocks before laughing at the absurdity of events that had unfolded over the course of this memorable night. Whitley also laughs, both in absurdity and happiness at how the two nicest people he knew had met in such a preposterous way!

Whitley: Unbelievable! I was hoping to introduce you to her later, but it looks like fate beat me to it.

He jocks back, a bright smile on his face as he marvels at his good fortune. Seeing a chance to cut into the conversation, Penny tugs at Whitley’s hand forcing his gaze onto her and Klein’s follows suit.

Penny: Actually, I haven’t told him my name yet, so we haven’t technically formally met yet.

She quips, Whitley and Klein immediately realize she’s just creating an excuse to do the introduction and play along.

Whitley: Is that so? Well, why don’t we rectify that right now? Penny, this is Klein. He was my family’s butler for years and practically raised me.

Whitley states while gesturing to Klein who tips his hat in greeting to Penny.

Klein: Pleased to meet you.

The short says cheerfully to the sweet redhead who waves to him in response, this promotes Whitley to let go of her hand and place it around her shoulder as he introduces the lovely girl to his old companion.

Whitley: Klein, this beautiful girl here is…my love Penny.

He pauses and pulls her closers before bestowing the title of his love. It’s simple but perfect as it describes just what he felt for her, she had shown him love and made him love deeper than he could ever imagine. Penny blushes when he utters those words, though she had a few titles, soldier, daughter, protector, and so on but she’d never been given a romantic one before. It made her head feel fuzzy again and reminded her of their moment in the alley. Her face glows brighter from the memory and she covers her face in embarrassment, barely able to vocalize her signature greeting.

Penny: S-S-Salutations.

She stutters out causing both men to chuckle.

Klein: Well now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way, why don’t you two go clean up before dinner?

Penny and Whitley look down and remember they’re absolutely soaked from the rain and definitely need to dry off or change. Whitley hangs his coat by the door and Klein helps him dry his clothes with a blow dryer while Penny goes to her room to change into dry off and change clothes. After getting her hair dry and wiping off Penny looked at her closet stumped. She honestly doesn’t know what to where in this situation like this, what with the person she loved and recently shared her first kiss with staying for dinner. Scanning through her clothes, she can’t find anything that feels casual enough to wear for only a few hours at most before changing to go to bed, so she ops to wear her pajamas and put the pink cardigan she’d received so long ago on over to cover up her shoulders and back. Once she’s ready Penny head back downstairs and sees that Whitley, sans winter hat and mask, had pulled up chairs at the dining table for him and Klein while Klein helps her dad plate the food. She rushes over to help, grabbing the utensils to set the table, and soon dinner is served.

It's a classic for rainy nights in Mantle, a hearty beef stew with a side of mashed potatoes and dinner rolls. Penny was delighted by the spread, but Whitley seemed a little cautious, not because of the meal's content but the presentation. Unlike his usual meals, this food wasn’t present in the prettiest way, the scent off was much stronger, and the serving size itself was far bigger than he’d gotten in years. It was actually a bit intimidating, being offered some much at someone else’s home. Could he really eat this? Even though he was starving from the journey here Whitley couldn’t help the unease he felt as he looked at his bowl. But his thoughts are interpreted by Pietro setting the pot of leftover stew in the center of the table.

Pietro: Go ahead and dig in everybody! It’s been a long night and we got plenty to go around!

Pietro cheers before grabbing his own bowl and chowing down. Penny and Klein also start eating eagerly, this encourages Whitley to have a taste for himself. He takes a spoon full of stew and sips just a little before immediately shoving the whole spoon into his mouth. It was rich and warm, the beef, though tougher than he was used to, paired perfectly with the vegetables and spices. He has to stop momentarily due to the heat of the stew, so he switches to mashed potatoes while the stew sat to chill. Since he had only one spoon, Whitley set his spoon on the rim of the bowl, lets then digs into the potatoes. They’re soft and creamy with a hint of butter and the residue from of the stew only enhanced the flavor. Once he’s done with mashed potatoes, Whitley’s about to go back to the stew but catches Penny ripping her dinner roll into pieces and dipping them in the stew before eating them. Curious, Whitley tears up his dinner roll in half and dips it in the stew, letting soak for a bit before eating it. It has a nice mushy texture, and the flavor of the stew is mellowed by the soft bread. He keeps ripping and dipping until he’s out of bread then goes back to eating the stew. Despite his graceful manners, Whitley finishes his food first but even with his bowl and plate empty he was still not satisfied. Penny, Pietro, and Klein look at him in awe as Whitley wipes his mouth with a napkin before articulating his delight to Pietro.

Whitley: Thank you for the meal, Mr. Polendina. It was delicious.

Pietro: Uh, thank you, glad you like it. Honestly, I thought I’d given you a little too much but looks like it was just right.

He says while rubbing the back of his head, confused and impressed that such a skinny kid could eat so much. However, his confusion wanes as Whitley goes on.

Whitley: Actually, I’m still a bit peckish. Do you mind if I have another helping?

He asks politely, Pietro smiles and reaches over to grab the ladle from the pot. He knew his daughter had described the boy as princely but didn’t think he’d be this polite, especially since he was the from highest of the upper crust. But here he was, breaking bread and minding his manners in a little Mantle like a little gentleman. And being so sheepish over something as simple as asking for seconds at the dinner table? What a charming young man his sweet pea had fallen for.

Pietro: Of course you can, hold out your bowl!

Whitley has another bowl and a few more dinner rolls, after which he starts to feel lethargic but cozy from the first truly filling meal he’s had in ages. After they clear the table Pietro suggests he settles in on the couch for the night. Wanting to stay but also feeling guilty for inconveniencing his old friend Whitley looks to Klein who gives a reassuring nod.

Klein: My taxi should be arriving soon. I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow.

He says happily before gathering his things and heading home. Now alone with the Polendinas, Whitley pulls the pillows to mon side and Penny brings him some blankets to keep him warm. They make a bed for him on the couch while Pietro makes a pot of hot chocolate and puts out some ginger snaps as dessert. He takes his holding and retires for the evening while the two love birds relax on the couch. Sipping on hot chocolate between bites of ginger snaps and watching tv with Penny by his side, the only thing that grounds the fact this is really happening to Whitley was the small aches from his sore body. Said sore body eventually calls out for rest in the form of a yawn. It’s a small yawn, surprisingly high-pitched and soft like a cat’s meow. Penny giggles at the cute sound and clears away the empty mugs and plate, giving Whitley space to lie down. He fluffs his pillows and tries to maneuver himself into a comfortable position. While washing the dishes Penny hears him tossing and turning and goes back to help him after putting every away. She grabs one of the blanks and covers him with it just as Whitley finally settles in. As she drapes the soft fabric over him Penny spots a hand-shaped bruise forming around his shoulder and collarbone between the open buttons of his shirt. A small twinge of guilt hits her as she wonders just how much Whitley had stuffed to be with her again.

Penny: I’m sorry we couldn’t give you better sleeping accommodations.

Whitley: It’s fine, it’s my fault for doing all this out of nowhere.

Penny: Still-

Penny reaches out and ghosting the tips of her fingers over the still-forming bruise.

Penny: you went through so much to get here.

She laments. Whitley notices her shifting mood, sighs and grabs her hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing her knocks. This stuns Penny out of her guilty thoughts and back to the reality of her love sitting before. Said love sits up and rests his forehead on hers as he intertwines their fingers again, not a hint of the cold, uncertainty, fear, or suffering from his long journey in sight. Instead, his gaze was filled with warmth and affection, all pointed at her and her alone.

Whitley: And I’d do it all again if it means I get to be here with you.

He declares lovingly before kissing Penny’s cheek and laying back down, hand still interlocked with hers. Penny stays with Whitley until he falls asleep. She knows they should’ve talked about how this happened and what to do next. About what happened in the alley before she showed up, what they’d do if his father found out he left the manor, and how they were going to keep in contact without getting caught. But that all could wait til morning, after breakfast they could talk about everything they needed to make sure this wasn’t a one-time thing. But for now, it was time to sleep and rest well in the comfort that despite all the odds against them their love had refused to die.

In the coldest kingdom on a dark rainy night, a unique love had faced every challenge in its path only to flourish beyond what anyone who witnessed it would have imagined. A true burning light in the sea of the city’s darkness.

#whitley schnee #penny polendina #rwby fanfiction #klein sieben #pietro polendina #rwby #beta testers #broken machines #fanfic #angst #cute #fluff #fanfiction #oc #last chapter #grande finale

7 notes · View notes