Fandom Distorted Mirror [IC]

[MidwayLives]

blood stains were splattered over the walls in places,

It'd be fair to say Neo liked to indulge herself in a little bit of murder here and there.

Helped calm the nerves and work off excess stress.

Still, probably should have told Emerald to leave the room before she started killing Malachite.

Ah well, lessons learned for later.

The blood stains brought a certain feeling of familiarity to the assassin who smiled.
​

Whoever it was was wearing a dark trench coat with the collar pulled up and a wide brimmed hat, and they stood so absolutely still that it was very likely that even among the trained hunters entering the room they weren't even noticed until they spoke up in an electronically distorted voice distorted voice.

"The resistance sends you its regards. Why are you looking for us?"

Even once they noted their presence, their whole... stance was off. Their shoulders didn't move, their wasn't a single twitch or shift in their movement. It was like if a scarecrow in a field suddenly spoke to you.

"*groan of exasperation*"

In line with Emerald's intent to cut to the chase, Neo gestured for the figure to 'come hither'.

If this was going to pan out how they wanted, Neo wanted to see who she was talking to.​

 

[MidwayLives]

The journals had been done for now and his arm had already been tended to.

What else was there to do?

Leaning back in his chair and looking over the mangled mask sitting on his desk, he frowned.

"Weiss Schnee: a real hero in the eyes of Atlas at large.'

He grabbed the mask and placed his hand over where a chunk of it had been torn away.

'But we both know that's not the truth, is it?'

Grey hadn't really known Yang Xiao Long. Wrapping his head around this 'other world' business had been easy enough. It likely involved some sort of conspiracy/mystery that he'd find the lead to in due time. But the more he sat and thought about it, they'd all been humiliated and for what?

She hadn't been harmed from the looks of it. She didn't seem distressed.

'Maybe she was right.'

No. There wasn't a maybe about it. They'd tried answering Schnee with force. She responded in kind and absolutely demolished them. Yang had taken a softer approach and didn't seem to have been in dire straits from the look of it. Apart from the whole briefly being frozen process, he can't imagine that was too pleasant in the slightest. He'd jotted about it in his journals that if they continued down the path that they were currently pursuing after that display? It was more likely that they'd end up arrested and either executed behind closed doors or spending the rest of the time on this mortal coil in a jail cell guarded by soldiers who believe you were just a...

'A brutish thug.'

Apt enough he supposed.

Pushing himself up from his chair, Grey made his way over to where he kept his costumes and masks. Grabbing a spare mask out of the container, he looked it over. This one had a red finish to it compared to the ghostly white complexion of the last. As if to hammer home in the irony of how the public at large/Schnee's supporters seemed to view their cause, two minuscule horns poked out of the top of the mask. It was rare these days but even someone like Grey couldn't help but laugh at the relative absurdity of that.

Nothing had been gained through brute force besides broken bodies and injured prides and...He grimaced upon thinking back to Raven. The medical staff on hand would no doubt do what they could but it'd be something if she could return to fighting shape asap. In the meantime sitting around did little more than fluster him. The footage he currently had of Weiss might have no doubt brought up questions in the public. 'Whoa, I had no idea Schnee was so boss' 'She took out all of them!' 'Man this video quality sucks! Was he recording it in a blizzard or something??' But it didn't seem encouraging enough that it'd lead to riots in the street or public questioning of Schnee herself at the scale that they'd have needed for something to give. It just wasn't enough in his eyes.

But...

If he could just find something, anything, open proof of Schnee collaborating with the fiends she called company? Maybe...

He couldn't ask any others to join him. They'd been through enough and needed time to rest and recover. He probably did too it'd been enough of a task in it of itself to write those journals with one hand. On top of that security was likely going to have been bolstered in the time since the incident. Chances are high that if he tried sneaking around there now, he'd end up in cuffs or in a grave before the night was through. Not that he'd ever spill anything on the others here. He'd be content enough to go down by himself. No need to drag others down with him. Not when there was still....hope for a chance.

But something foul was in the air in Atlas and he'd figure out what it was, if it had any connection to what was going on, something. Even if he had to look all over.

Grabbing his mask and slipping it on over his head, he grabbed one of his spare scrolls and tucked it away.

'A reporter's work is never done...' ​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"Liza," the Colonel opened, his features affixed in thoughtful repose, "I'd like for you to attend the meeting with me today. I have a feeling it is... significant." His attention remained fast on the passing scenery, a row of trimmed hedges that trailed the driveway spaced apart that the scenery unveiled beyond to be roiling hills of verdure, maintained to give the wide expanse the illusion of life within. Within the passing of mere minutes, they would loop around a statuesque fountain situated before the manor's entrance, the vehicle coming to a gentle halt before it. There was no need to refer to the clock whatsoever, the indelible training of military precision etched into their very essence informed them well enough they were squarely on time for their meeting with the esteemed Councilwoman.

Soon as Liza facilitated their departure in proper protocol, the Colonel stood before the portal to within with his adjutant at his back, content to await for their being received.

The ride up till that point had been spent in comfortable silence. Not that the woman across from Ector hadn't been attentive, just focused. The first few minutes had been spent doing a check of the pair of handguns holstered at the back of her uniform, more than likely tools that would be unnecessary for the location they were headed to, and also a task she'd already done at least once today, yet she went through the motions all the same. The rest of the ride was spent with her eyes quietly roving the streets outside, quick, second long studies of the faces they passed and the dark corners they drove by. It wasn't an action born of stress or paranoia; her shoulders were calm and her breathing was steady. It was simply the task she'd assigned herself.

Those eyes immediately flickered over the colonel as he spoke, and her response was curt and short.

"Of course, sir."

She exited first, gave their surroundings one last scan, and opened the door for him before she stepped aside to let him take the lead. She was standing just behind Ector as the bell was rung, hands crossed behind her back and at attention.

Despite appearances, Weiss Schnee was not a woman renowned for a sociable demeanor or open-doors policy when it came to those wishing to cross the threshold into her home. Five to ten years ago the same could not have been said, with the young woman a common fixture among the dinners, galas and events hosted by both the city's blue-blooded socialite types and its notable political figures, two groups which it could be said tended to have a fairly significant overlap. She burst onto the scene in the years following her father's disappearance and became known for surprising both the elder caste and debutantes of note, distinguishing herself from her peers by defying public perception as an emotionally sterile ice queen and frankly turning into quite the saucy young vixen once she put a few drinks away, one who could hold the attention of the entire room and set it alight with laughter through her uncommonly sharp command of wit and a genuine spiritedness atypical in the city's stuffy elites.

It certainly made her a prime target for many of the city's pampered young suitors, seeking either bragging rights or a marriage prospect with even more wealth than they had; those attempts by and large ended in flames, which only served to both elevate her own stock and provide a not-so-gentle reminder that her reputation for ruthlessness had not come from nowhere. Those young men's reputations often never recovered, but as for Weiss? She always charmed, always impressed, always seemed to say and do exactly the right things to endear herself to all present. It wasn't long before everyone who was anyone wanted Weiss Schnee at their party. Colonel Ector, himself a man committed to rising through the Atlesian ranks, and his ever-stalwart bodyguard could even recall seeing her at a number of those events, left to draw their own conclusions on the young woman with an elegant drinking habit that did nothing to dull her air of sophistication and refinement.

A few years hence saw all that change. Ever since councilwoman Schnee had become established enough politically to forego the need for ingratiating herself to such circles her reputation had become practically that of a recluse, albeit a well-liked and respected one. The galas she hosted stopped, the foxy young woman all the bachelors found so appealing vanished from those types of events almost completely, and Schnee Manor itself became something akin to a frozen monument in the heart of Atlas, a high tower from which its owner rarely ever descended. With her political career gaining traction and so many commitments to be upheld, most simply assumed she busied herself seeing to them, respecting her all the more for it; now that days were dark and she was the figure all of Atlas looked to for reassurance, her increased association with the military and insistence on relying on her own privately payrolled guards over allowing them a permanent footing in her home gave some among its ranks an impression of arrogance, while others merely saw a woman who valued her privacy. Her home, cold and isolated as it was, had become her palace, the one place in all her machinations and schemes she could truly, genuinely say was hers, the one place she could let her hair down. Or so she liked to say, anyway.

Apparently, those had been literal terms. The Weiss who answered the door cut quite a different figure to the one who made all the public appearances and speeches and grand assurances; her hair actually was down, and in her simple nightgown + slipper presentation looked almost frail in contrast to the elegant and height enhancing attires she donned for her work. Apparently while in the sanctity of her own home she was more willing to depend on her natural confidence and regality to assert herself, an authority that shined through her diminutive stature even despite her immediately being thrown by the tiny four-legged ball of fur that sprang past her efforts to block him with her foot and ran yowling off into the evening, for no other reason than to be chaotic. "ZWEI!"

Well, one of her security team would coral him eventually. She huffed, rolling her eyes as she refocused her attention on her two guests. Ector himself got little more than a cursory nod, but his less familiar assistant drew a longer, more dissecting stare as the councilwoman looked her up and down with a wordlessly piercing skepticism, taking careful note of any ways her professional demeanor might have shifted under the weight of it (if at all).

"...Colonel Ector. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of knowing your associate."

Her tone was scrutinizing, incisive as she waited for the proper introductions to be made. She raised the glass in her hand discerningly to her lips, downing the last of the clear, fragrant liquid within. Her wine stock had obviously taken something of a hit a few nights ago, but she'd been able to find a few bottles of her mother's gin lying around to fall back on.

Frankly, she never much saw the appeal. It tasted like flowers and depression.

Apparently satisfied enough by whatever answer she received to accept the unexpected intrusion for now, she stepped to one side and beckoned them both in with a tilt of her head.

"We'll proceed to my study. You're both more than welcome to a glass of something there, if you'd like."​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"To anyone rested and available, Cobalt's looking for some extra scouts."

Ironwood's voice clicked over the PA system, brief and to-the-point as always. The dilapidated, run-down outskirts of Mantle were rife with disused warehouses, bunkers and old mining facilities, a stark contrast from the distant lights and shine of Atlas in the clouds above. They were the perfect backdrop for the headquarters of Mantle's de-facto resistance movement, a labyrinth of structures in dangerous levels of disrepair that venturing into would've been an exercise in foolhardiness for any military forces to consider, the potential loss of manpower and resources too damning to be worth considering when the rebels had the whole area mapped out so well. The one and only attempt at actively rooting out the dissidents had led to a squad of crack special operatives being utterly bamboozled, led on a wild goose chase around the city fringes by Cassidy Cobalt and a band of their most daring, and the entire city of Atlas ended up looking quite frankly foolish in the eyes of the thousands watching the news cycles the next day as they had to explain how a team of their most elite agents ended up trussed up and hanging from lampposts in their undies, damn near shivering their skins off.

It went without saying that Cobalt, previously an unknown factor and subject to a lens of intense scrutiny from those in the Mantle resistance wondering why an outside associate of James Ironwood was allowed call so many shots, had been given a very wide berth ever since then by all except the faction's most rugged or foolhardy. The elusive gunslinger seemed to have found a natural affinity with the former White Fang extremists who served under Eve Taurus, a regiment of faunus deployed north to Atlas prior to the decisive battle at Haven and its subsequent disbandment, who without a purpose and the inclination to return to Menagerie with their brethren had decided to take their frustrations and disappointment in their erstwhile leader out on the city that stood as a symbol of faunus subjugation instead. That little posse was the one often tasked with braving the snowy wilderness, raiding Dust transportation convoys or scoping out patrol activity among the floating city's military as they observed movements and reported back diligently.

They could most commonly be found inside the stables, either saddling up or dismounting as they came and went as mysteriously and elusively as the breeze. Today was no exception, Cobalt leading a string of horses over so about a half-dozen former Fang could ready up their saddlebags in preparation for the mission. Winter was observing carefully from up against the far wall, arms crossed and tight frown ever-dutiful as she awaited the mission's commencement, apparently intent on joining them in the field despite making no obvious preparations to ready a mount of her own.​

 

[MyrtenRose]

It had taken a fair amount of time for her to awaken and rejoin the land of the living, but now she had. Though even in her groggy state and despite the doctor's and nurses' attempts to leave her in a relatively comfortable position and regardless of the anesthetic that had been injected, Raven was instantly aware on some level of the pain. Yet it felt strange, hazy...almost like phantom pain. Maybe it was a combination of all three of the above things that kept it from being more serious. Whatever the case, her shoulders started to rise as she moved to sit up in this hospital-esque bed, take stock of the surroundings--

"Whoa hey hey, no!" One of the nurses objected, hands shooting up on reflex to grip both of her shoulders and gently guide Raven back to lying down. "No sudden movements! You took one heck of a hit, ma'am!"

There was a low hissed sigh at her movements being controlled like that, but it was honestly the least of her concerns. A few seconds after the back of her head dropped once more onto the pillow, her eyes angled to look over at the nurse. "...How bad?"

"I won't lie to you, ma'am--"

"How bad?!" She asked louder, roughly halfway to actually yelling.

"Comminuted fracture from sheer physical trauma to your spinal column. The vertebrae along your lumbar and thoracic parts of your spine, they--"

Raven interrupted the nurse yet again to ask another question. One she felt sure of the answer, given the overwhelming numbness she felt from down below but still, she felt she had to ask. "Am I...paralyzed?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am."

"Oh."

It was not an easy thing to gauge how she took that news, her face well schooled into not giving anything away when she chose not to. If one were to judge solely from her expression, it would appear that she took that bombshell with a stony stoicism. That she was not letting any of it get to her. In truth, behind that mask, it was getting to her. She had always prized freedom highly. The choice to decide how she lived, whether that was with the trappings of more civilized life or not. To try and not get bogged down by too many emotional attachments. Even her decision to allow Ozpin to give her what he had, it gave her a degree of freedom most people could never dream of. To fly, experience life through a different sort of eyes, see everything from a new perspective. But now...she wouldn't be able to walk if she desired it. That knowledge...somewhere, something inside her felt broken, and she wasn't referring to her spine. If she were alone, she might have actually shed some tears. But she wasn't, and so she didn't. There wasn't even so much as a sniffle as her eyes swiveled back over to the nurse.

"Treatment?"

"Ah, not to worry." The nurse bounced back, pleased to give some good news. "As it happens, some of your compatriots managed to 'procure' quite a bit of advanced Atlesian prosthetics. While you would be unable to walk naturally, with those as support you should be a-okay to do so! They are retrieving the appropriate ones right now and prepping a more isolated room for the surgery. With a bit more of a dosage of anesthesia, you will--"

"No."

"...I'm sorry?" The nurse asked, confused.

"No more anesthesia."

"But--"

"I said no." Raven stated with finality, a fierce scowl on her face. Though a large part of that look was more directed to herself than anybody else. Yang had once called her powerful, if totally ignorant on what strength actually was. But here, now...she didn't even feel powerful. It had been her weakness that led to this crippling state. She hadn't been powerful enough, fast enough, tough enough. Not for whatever had attacked her back there. If anything, as far as she was concerned, any further pain that ensued was something she deserved to feel for being that inept when...when they needed her not to be.

And the pain would ensure she would never forget it either.​

 

[MidwayLives]

"To anyone rested and available, Cobalt's looking for some extra scouts."

"Cobalt..."

'Interesting fellow. Hides away like I do. For different reasons I imagine. None of which I know and that's fine with me. Due to my line of career, it's a passion to be nosy . Least of all when it concerns those I'm putting my life on the line with but as a fellow person who wears a mask, I can't help but find some sort of kinship, a camaraderie if you will with them. It's...better this way.'
​

and the entire city of Atlas ended up looking quite frankly foolish in the eyes of the thousands watching the news cycles the next day as they had to explain how a team of their most elite agents ended up trussed up and hanging from lampposts in their undies, damn near shivering their skins off.

"Heh..."

'Memories of better times...'
​

It went without saying that Cobalt, previously an unknown factor and subject to a lens of intense scrutiny from those in the Mantle resistance wondering why an outside associate of James Ironwood was allowed call so many shots, had been given a very wide berth ever since then by all except the faction's most rugged or foolhardy. The elusive gunslinger seemed to have found a natural affinity with the former White Fang extremists who served under Eve Taurus, a regiment of faunus deployed north to Atlas prior to the decisive battle at Haven and its subsequent disbandment, who without a purpose and the inclination to return to Menagerie with their brethren had decided to take their frustrations and disappointment in their erstwhile leader out on the city that stood as a symbol of faunus subjugation instead. That little posse was the one often tasked with braving the snowy wilderness, raiding Dust transportation convoys or scoping out patrol activity among the floating city's military as they observed movements and reported back diligently.

'I've had my opinions on those who joined our ranks and used to belong to White Fang. They'd made their choices in life and were now fighting for a better tomorrow. Not just for the people of Atlas but the faunus who lived there and faced discrimination every other day. Most of them have refused my attempts at interviews though. Some often violently, I wisely left them alone.'

Grey was closer to the faunus cause for reasons than most knew...
​

They could most commonly be found inside the stables, either saddling up or dismounting as they came and went as mysteriously and elusively as the breeze. Today was no exception, Cobalt leading a string of horses over so about a half-dozen former Fang could ready up their saddlebags in preparation for the mission. Winter was observing carefully from up against the far wall, arms crossed and tight frown ever-dutiful as she awaited the mission's commencement, apparently intent on joining them in the field despite making no obvious preparations to ready a mount of her own.

'Everybody's allowed a certain amount of indulging in their lives. Some have particular vices. Schnee from what little I've managed to deduce has quite the appetite for alcohol. Nothing really to judge her on, bit of a low blow. Far more important issues to stress than that. Other's passions and interest are far more subdued, something they wouldn't exactly reveal without careful questioning or prodding. Even I am not immune to this strange phenomenon which strikes ever man or woman in this world, no matter who they may be.'

Peeking out of his office and leaning on the doorframe, Grey watched the horses be prepared.

'Ever since I was a little boy, I...I've always wanted to ride a horse.'

Silly? Sure but even in his mid 20s, Grey still liked thinking about dreams and wants from a happier time in his life. It wasn't often when he got to do that anymore. Things were so much more grim nowadays.

Lifting up his mask just enough to let some of his hair floof out and a smile spread across his face.

'It was as if for a moment my concerns disappeared. The joy welled up within me. I was positively thrilled.'
​

Winter was observing carefully from up against the far wall, arms crossed and tight frown ever-dutiful as she awaited the mission's commencement, apparently intent on joining them in the field despite making no obvious preparations to ready a mount of her own.

'And then it was if a cold wind blew through and ebbed away at my happiness. Easy come easy go is the saying.'

Pulling his mask back down, he looked over at Jacque's oldest.

'Winter Schnee. She cut a figure all her own. Just as beautiful as Weiss, perhaps even more so. To go against her own family is something I could only relate to on a smaller scale.' Grey's parents hadn't approved of his growing criticism against Atlas and it's leaders and after a while his father stopped speaking to him altogether. But he'd never had to fight his parents or get frozen by them.

'On my best of days, I can hardly stomach looking at myself in the mirror. I forget to shave at times, too concerned about planning. My hair's a tangled mess and my mask leaves me hotter than I'd like at times. When the mask is on? I don't cut the most welcoming figure. Still..'

He decided to approach the Schnee.

"Winter...' He spoke, his voice modulated thanks to the tech(simplistic as it was)in his mask. "How are you holding up...?"

'I tried. Not my best or my worst. But I tried.'​

 

[MyrtenRose]

"To anyone rested and available, Cobalt's looking for some extra scouts."

Ruby had come to such an abrupt stop upon hearing that news that the swiftly following Nora didn't even have time to do likewise. The small silver eyed huntress got bowled over as the even tinier bruiser collided with her, sending both crashing to the floor with a light thud and a faint "Ow." But both were back on their feet in no time, Ruby looking over at Nora with a fairly pleased expression. "You heard that too, right?" She asked, perhaps unnecessarily given it had been announced over the PA system. "Of course I did, that's definitely one for us!" The ginger replied, an almost overwhelming eagerness shining in those aqua eyes. She may not have been quite back up to a hundred percent after what Weiss had thrown at her, but she sure wasn't going to let that stop her.

That sort of determination reminded Ruby a bit of Yang, and subsequently got a bit of sorrow blossoming inside for failing to get her sister after all this time. But she swallowed that feeling and lifted her gaze back up to Nora with a soft smile herself. "Let's go then!" The two made their way to go find Cobalt.​

Winter was observing carefully from up against the far wall, arms crossed and tight frown ever-dutiful as she awaited the mission's commencement, apparently intent on joining them in the field despite making no obvious preparations to ready a mount of her own.

"So, have you considered it?" Robyn asked as she approached. Though she had only spoke up after the weirdo in the mask had done so. : |​

 

[Indolent]

Despite appearances, Weiss Schnee was not a woman renowned for a sociable demeanor or open-doors policy when it came to those wishing to cross the threshold into her home. Five to ten years ago the same could not have been said, with the woman a common fixture among the dinners, galas and events hosted by both the city's blue-blooded socialite types and its notable political figures, two groups which it had to be said tended to have a fairly significant overlap. She burst onto the scene in the years following her father's disappearance and became known for surprising both the elder caste and debutantes of note, distinguishing herself from her peers by defying public perception as an emotionally sterile ice queen and frankly turning into quite the saucy young vixen once she put a few drinks away, one who could hold the attention of the entire room and set it alight with laughter through her uncommonly sharp command of wit and a genuine spiritedness uncommon in the city's elites.

It certainly made her a prime target for many of the city's pampered young suitors, seeking either bragging rights or a marriage prospect with even more wealth than they had; those attempts by and large ended in flames, which only served to both elevate her own stock and provide a not-so-gentle reminder that her reputation for ruthlessness had not come from nowhere. Those young men's reputations often never recovered, but as for Weiss? She always charmed, always impressed, always seemed to say and do exactly the right things to endear herself to all present. It wasn't long before everyone who was anyone wanted Weiss Schnee at their party. Colonel Ector, himself a man committed to rising through the Atlesian ranks, and his ever-stalwart bodyguard could even recall seeing her at a number of those events, left to draw their own conclusions on the young woman with an elegant drinking habit that did nothing to dull her air of sophistication and refinement.

A few years hence saw all that change. Ever since councilwoman Schnee had become established enough politically to forego the need for ingratiating herself to such circles her reputation had practically become that of a recluse, albeit a well-liked and respected one. The galas she hosted stopped, the foxy young woman all the bachelors found so appealing vanished from those types of events almost completely, and Schnee Manor itself became something akin to a frozen monument in the heart of Atlas, a high tower from which its owner rarely ever descended. With her political career gaining traction and so many commitments to be upheld, most simply assumed she busied herself seeing to them, respecting her all the more for it; now that days were dark and she was the figure all of Atlas looked to for reassurance, her increased association with the military and insistence on relying on her own privately payrolled guards over allowing them a permanent footing in her home gave some among its ranks an impression of arrogance, while others merely saw a woman who valued her privacy. Her home, cold and isolated as it now was, had become her palace, the one place in all her machinations and schemes she could truly, genuinely say was hers, the one place she could let her hair down. Or so she liked to say, anyway.

Apparently, those had been literal terms. The Weiss who answered the door cut quite a different figure to the one who made all the public appearances and speeches and grand assurances; her hair actually was down, and in her simple nightgown + slipper presentation looked almost frail in contrast to the elegant and height enhancing attires she donned for her work. Apparently while in the sanctity of her own home she was more willing to depend on her natural confidence and regality to assert herself, an authority that shined through her diminutive stature even despite her immediately being thrown by the tiny four-legged ball of fur that sprang past her efforts to block him with her foot and ran yowling off into the evening, for no other reason than to be chaotic. "ZWEI!"

Well, one of her security team would coral him eventually. She huffed, rolling her eyes as she refocused her attention on her two guests. Ector himself got little more than a cursory nod, but his less familiar assistant drew a longer, more dissecting stare as the councilwoman looked her up and down with a wordlessly piercing skepticism, taking careful note of any ways her professional demeanor might have shifted under the weight of it (if at all).

"...Colonel Ector. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of knowing your associate."

Her tone was scrutinizing, incisive as she waited for the proper introductions to be made. She raised the glass in her hand discerningly to her lips, downing the last of the clear, fragrant liquid within. Her wine stock had obviously taken something of a hit a few nights ago, but she'd been able to find a few bottles of her mother's gin lying around to fall back on.

Frankly, she never much saw the appeal. It tasted like flowers and depression.

Apparently satisfied enough by whatever answer she received to accept the unexpected intrusion for now, she stepped to one side and beckoned them both in with a tilt of her head.

"We'll proceed to my study. You're both more than welcome to a glass of something there, if you'd like."​

A particular trait an aspirant within the ranks of a given military body had to cultivate was being stoic. More precisely, it was to be unflappable in the face of overwhelming odds and unexpected turns of events, either of which could overcome even the most meticulous plans beforehand. There was something to be said for the adage of 'No plan survives enemy contact' holding true even for otherwise non-hostile engagements. It necessitated the need to be flexible in all matters, to nurture one's adaptability, in order to navigate these multifaceted scenarios one and many. Weiss Schnee, if she remembered Ector from a few of these aforementioned engagements, might recall he was oft approached by socialites and the politically inclined, having to weather the drowsy nonsense of the former as they embellished on about irrelevant interests while the latter attempted to extricate whatever nugget of information they could on the happenings within the military's internal affairs, to glean an advantage of sorts for whatever business prospects they could devise.

The only thing that made the task in dealing with the entanglement of the socialites was their singular shared interests for fashion, the Colonel often following the trends in favor of the classic suits and overcoat he often sported in dark colors. They never dared to comment that they were out of season, no longer a part of the current catalogue they perused or that they clashed, simply because the man's presence alone, with the enduring air of confidence and his knowledge on this subject matter, made him as relevant as he loathed them. The politically savvy often came away with little to nothing, conferring something of a reputation upon Ector for being unrelenting in his loyalty to the military which at the least engendered respect for his character and at worst, inspired animosity from the inept elite. It was a matter of of principles, that he arose through the ranks on his own merits or through relations he forged himself instead.

He displayed his aforementioned adaptability, scrutinizing those few that would serve to be injurious to his career and placating them with his inborn charisma while ignoring the rest that could do nothing but wring their hands at him, the extent of their influence amounting to a stone's throw in the expansive waters that was the political ocean of Atlas. Throughout it all, it served as an emphasis on that he much preferred the role of a commander, and the paperwork inherent to the position, over the detached frivolities the rich entertained on the regular.

It was what he also displayed in light of a diminutive furball sprinting past through the threshold of the door, brushing against the shin of the Colonel as he regarded the spectacle with a fairly nonplussed expression. His expression shifted to an intermix of stoic and amicable in the next second, the face of a soldier serving a long, storied career, as Ector returned the nod with a polite, respectful one of his own.

"Councilwoman Schnee. This is my adjutant, Liza Krane," The colonel opened, turning with a gesture of the right hand towards Liza, his tone at ease in contrast to the severe, fleeting atmosphere that formed momentarily, "She is my long-time bodyguard and an extension of my office. I deemed it appropriate that she be introduced as she has talents you might deem useful, should you need them." His phrasing was delicate but the tone underpinning these words spoke more than the officer let on, speaking to a cherished friendship between the two, born of unflinching loyalty and respect.

There was a minute shift in his expression, a subtle appreciation of Miss Schnee allowing the intrusion, before Ector proffered another nod and entered through the door way in a stride, stepping forth into the wide foyer of mute white and blues that received them. He had no intention of taking the lead from Miss Schnee, simply content to be removed and allow her to do so and it was with an easy shake of the head he declined her offer.

"No, thank you Councilwoman." His demeanor was brimming with patience, belying the burgeoning curiosity he noted and nurtured the past few days. Whatever Liza's reply was now or then, the Colonel would have affixed a smile as they were led to the study. At her bidding, he would take his seat within the one room that seemed to stick out in stark contrast to the architecture of every other within the manor. Its floors were a dark wood instead of marbled tiles, the edges of the room rimmed with bookshelves replete naturally with texts of all manner. Even the furniture was of a similar inclination, their colors a solid black, with a glass coffee table set between the two, both atop a light-blue rug spanning the room. The councilwoman certainly had made note of the Colonel's notice and fleeting interest in this differentation, though he dared not to converse on it with pressing matters presumably being brought to bear.

 

[Gus Gungus]

"Winter...' He spoke, his voice modulated thanks to the tech(simplistic as it was)in his mask. "How are you holding up...?"

Grey may have approached white with nothing but the best of intentions, but it was for naught and a somewhat disappointing reception. Winter didn't look at him, hardly seemed to acknowledge him, neither turning her head nor adjusting her oft-frosty voice from the sort of pitch and tone she might use for Harriet a homeless person pestering her for spare change she didn't have.

"Not taking interviews."

You didn't get to be one of Atlas's most noted military specialists, a Schnee one at that, without knowing who the local press were.

Especially this guy.

"So, have you considered it?" Robyn asked as she approached.

"...Mm?"

The second figure to approach drew a somewhat different reaction, if only marginally given just how stony and rigid a person Winter Schnee was. It wasn't a facade, wasn't something meant to instill respect or convey authority like her sister's similar behavior was; this was simply what she was like.

For a pair who were ex-military operative and anti-authority demagogue, respectively, Winter surprisingly never found herself disliking Robyn Hill as much as she initially thought she would, despite her caustic attitude and thumb-on-nose disdain for the Atlesian chain of command Winter still didn't quite share in spite of everything. She still believed that once Carnelian was ousted, once someone of better character was installed and her sister's schemes were ended, there was still a chance...

Regardless, Robyn only cared about the people. And she seemed sincere. If nothing else, those were two traits they had in common.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."​

 

[MidwayLives]

Grey may have approached white with nothing but the best of intentions, but it was for naught and a somewhat disappointing reception. Winter didn't look at him, hardly seemed to acknowledge him, neither turning her head nor adjusting her oft-frosty voice from the sort of pitch and tone she might use for Harriet a homeless person pestering her for spare change.

'Hm. Well, she didn't throw me against the wall. Better reaction than her sister.'
​

"Not taking interviews."

"Oh..."

'Scratch that one off the list.'

"No...I was wondering how you were-"
​

The second figure to approach drew a somewhat different reaction, if only marginally given just how stony and rigid a person Winter Schnee was. It wasn't a facade, wasn't something meant to instill respect or convey authority like her sister's similar behavior was; this was simply who she was.

'Better reaction. Like I said, don't cut the most welcoming figure in my 'rebel' guise.'
​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"Oh..."

'Scratch that one off the list.'

"No...I was wondering how you were-"

"Bad."​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"I said no." Raven stated with finality, a fierce scowl on her face. Though a large part of that look was more directed to herself than anybody else. Yang had once called her powerful, if totally ignorant on what strength actually was. But here, now...she didn't even feel powerful. It had been her weakness that led to this crippling state. She hadn't been powerful enough, fast enough, tough enough. Not for whatever had attacked her back there. If anything, as far as she was concerned, any further pain that ensued was something she deserved to feel for being that inept when...when they needed her not to be.

And the pain would ensure she would never forget it either.

Speaking of weakness.

Qrow was passed out on a chair in the corner, snoring like a chainsaw and comatose to the point rousing him any time soon seemed unlikely. It wasn't just exhaustion, though.

The smell like a bar after closing painted another picture, his five o'clock shadow thicker and more grizzled than it normally was owing to lack of bothering to shave or proper grooming. In his limply dangling hand was a hip flask, and there was no mistaking the tiny droplets of liquid that trickled out infrequently every time he shifted as water or a charade of any kind.

He knew he said he was done. He knew he had promised that to someone very important, and at the time he really had believed it, had never seen any scenario arising within a billion years that could diminish the integrity of those words. But the fact that they'd been here so long at this point, his total failure to make any real headway on getting his nieces home, his inability to even get Yang out of the crappy situation he'd left her in for an entire month and a half, all of it had swirled together in a dark cloud that gripped Qrow Branwen's mind, compounded by that last glimpse of Raven in the dark. Something that shouldn't have happened. Something that wouldn't have, if he hadn't made just enough progress in his life to start acting like a sanctimonious jerk. If he hadn't pushed it, if he hadn't seen early signs of change in his twin and started laying it on so thick he just didn't know when to stop. Who the hell was he kidding? Who was he to talk?

It had been the straw that broke Raven's back, and opened the floodgates to all the skeletons Qrow kept stuffed away in his closet. It even happened in a wine cellar, for crying out loud. For all his effortless charm, cocky swagger and devil-may-care roguishness, at the end of the day he really just wasn't the most well put together dude deep down. He wasn't built to withstand all this crap happening one after another, wasn't strong enough to keep the promises he'd made.

Unlucky for him.​

 

[MyrtenRose]

"...Mm?"

The second figure to approach drew a somewhat different reaction, if only marginally given just how stony and rigid a person Winter Schnee was. It wasn't a facade, wasn't something meant to instill respect or convey authority like her sister's similar behavior was; this was simply what she was like.

For a pair who were ex-military operative and anti-authority demagogue, however, surprisingly Winter never found herself disliking Robyn Hill as much as she initially thought she would, despite her caustic attitude and thumb-on-nose disdain for the Atlesian army Winter still didn't quite share in spite of everything. She still believed that once Carnelian was ousted, once someone of better character was installed and her sister's schemes were ended, there was still a chance...

Regardless, Robyn only cared about the people. And she seemed sincere. If nothing else, those were two traits they had in common.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"I mean this." She gestured to the outfit Winter was wearing, far more in line with Robyn's own than the usual flair that were the Atlesian military uniforms. "What you got on, how you're wearing your hair down like that. I think it suits you, y'know. Far more than the prim and proper look you had before, anyhow. Wearing the Atlas military colors, especially in these times, with the way they're currently going..." She trailed off, not believing she needed to finish saying that train of thoughts. "The Happy Huntresses are always open to anybody who wants to fight the good fight, no matter where they come from. We could make that look a more permanent deal is all." ​

"No...I was wondering how you were-"

"Bad."

Though her lighthearted attempt to break the ice, so to speak, and the smile that came with it, gave way to a more serious expression at that exchange. Yeah, that couldn't have been easy. She cleared her throat before continuing. "Yes, about that. I can hardly imagine how difficult it must be to have to take a stand like this against somebody you grew up with. I won't say I know how hard that feels, because I don't. But I do know this, we appreciate it. I don't have the best relationship with a lot of the obedient tools in the military, and you used to rank among that number, but times change. The sacrifices you've made to go against your sister, the risks you took in deserting the military...I don't want you to think that it's gone unnoticed. I'm honored to be standing side by side with someone who can shoulder that burden and keep fighting for what is right." Robyn extended a hand out in offer for Winter to shake.

"And if you ever wish to talk about those feelings you keep bottled up, well. I know four sets of ears who'd be fine with listening. And not recording it for the kingdom to see." She remarked with a pointed glance at Grey.​

 

[MidwayLives]

"Bad."

'I wore the mask and the rest of my outfit because I didn't want to cultivate the image of an out-of-touch journalist sticking his nose where it didn't belong. I lived here, this was my home, and I wanted to do anything I could to help. Let people look upon the ghastly attire I've gathered and not the man behind it. He doesn't deserve the fame, the cause for which I fight does...'

But in this moment?

'I'm glad to have it..'
​

ed attempt to break the ice, so to speak, and the smile that came with it, gave way to a more serious expression at that exchange. Yeah, that couldn't have been easy. She cleared her throat before continuing. "Yes, about that. I can hardly imagine how difficult it must be to have to take a stand like this against somebody you grew up with. I won't say I know how hard that feels, because I don't. But I do know this, we appreciate it. I don't have the best relationship with a lot of the obedient tools in the military, and you used to rank among that number, but times change. The sacrifices you've made to go against your sister, the risks you took in deserting the military...I don't want you to think that it's gone unnoticed. I'm honored to be standing side by side with someone who can shoulder that burden and keep fighting for what is right." Robyn extended a hand out in offer for Winter to shake.

'In better times I might have written an article about this. 'Leader of the Happy Huntresses tries to socialize with Winter Schnee??? SHOCKING DETAILS YOU DON"T WANT TO MISS!!'

'If I wrote for some bloody tabloid rag that is.'
​

"And if you ever wish to talk about those feelings you keep bottled up, well. I know four sets of ears who'd be fine with listening. And not recording it for the kingdom to see." She remarked with a pointed glance at Grey.

In Grey's line of work you got slapped with all kinds of labels.

Parasites, bastards, scum, assholes.

The list went on and on. You had to grow a thick skin to stay in this business. Otherwise you'd only end up risking your own mental health and stability.

Grey was aware and understood how and why people had those receptions/feelings.

It didn't mean it hurt his feelings any less. A man couldn't live and be made of stone.

He quietly turned and walked towards the horses to try and get himself ready. The atmosphere of that conversation had made it clear his presence wasn't needed...

'Attempt to check up on. Failed spectacularly.' ​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"I mean this." She gestured to the outfit Winter was wearing, far more in line with Robyn's own than the usual flair that were the Atlesian military uniforms. "What you got on, how you're wearing your hair down like that. I think it suits you, y'know. Far more than the prim and proper look you had before, anyhow. Wearing the Atlas military colors, especially in these times, with the way they're currently going..." She trailed off, not believing she needed to finish saying that train of thoughts. "The Happy Huntresses are always open to anybody who wants to fight the good fight, no matter where they come from. We could make that look a more permanent deal is all."

"..."

Winter seemed oddly uncertain of how to respond to what by all rights appeared to be nothing more than a candid, well intentioned compliment. She eventually opted towards the somewhat unorthodox approach of reacting like Robyn was a superior officer giving her a dressing down, shifting her gaze away and brushing a strand of the aforementioned hair back behind her ear. "I just haven't seen much point... it's not like there's proper grooming stations here, we barely get running water..."

She seemed to catch herself with a cough, still a bit of a labor sometimes to work the military conditioning out of her head. She looked back up, thoughts still somewhat inscrutable behind that neutrally dutiful expression.

"...And I'm not happy or a huntress." She nevertheless pointed out, possibly an attempt at a joke. Possibly. It truly was difficult to tell.

Though her lighthearted attempt to break the ice, so to speak, and the smile that came with it, gave way to a more serious expression at that exchange. Yeah, that couldn't have been easy. She cleared her throat before continuing. "Yes, about that. I can hardly imagine how difficult it must be to have to take a stand like this against somebody you grew up with. I won't say I know how hard that feels, because I don't. But I do know this, we appreciate it. I don't have the best relationship with a lot of the obedient tools in the military, and you used to rank among that number, but times change. The sacrifices you've made to go against your sister, the risks you took in deserting the military...I don't want you to think that it's gone unnoticed. I'm honored to be standing side by side with someone who can shoulder that burden and keep fighting for what is right." Robyn extended a hand out in offer for Winter to shake.

"And if you ever wish to talk about those feelings you keep bottled up, well. I know four sets of ears who'd be fine with listening. And not recording it for the kingdom to see." She remarked with a pointed glance at Grey.

Winter seemed to embark through a journey of conflicting emotions throughout Robyn's words, albeit ones that barely even registered as flickers on the cool mask of practiced discipline that wasn't far removed from her sibling's in the least; if a bit less ubiquitous. She didn't look put out by the time the other woman finished, though, and eventually took the hand with a grateful, if somewhat stiff, nod.

"Thanks. I don't think I'm there yet."​

 

[Gus Gungus]

In Grey's line of work you got slapped with all kinds of labels.

Parasites, bastards, scum, assholes.

The list went on and on. You had to grow a thick skin to stay in this business. Otherwise you'd only end up risking your own mental health and stability.

Grey was aware and understood how and why people had those receptions/feelings.

It didn't mean it hurt his feelings any less. A man couldn't live and be made of stone.

He quietly turned and walked towards the horses to try and get himself ready. The atmosphere of that conversation had made it clear his presence wasn't needed...

'Attempt to check up on. Failed spectacularly.'

As the downtrodden Grey sadly walked away from the two women and over to the string of horses, he felt eyes on him from all the way up at the head of the pack. Eyes, perhaps, that bore the warmth of a kindred spirit. Eyes that may have known what it was like to bear the sting of isolation, to be alienated and treated with scorn for a simple decision to hide their face from anybody and everybody like some kind of back alley murderer. The eyes, mayhap, of a brother(?) who understood.

Then again, it was hard to really know for sure.

Because they were wearing a mask.

"Howdy," Cobalt said.​

 

[MidwayLives]

"Howdy," Cobalt said.

When their eyes met, he finally knew Cobalt understood....

'They truly did...'

But in reality, Grey didn't suddenly break out into a dance and song with Cobalt.

Instead, he felt rather caught off guard and his reply nailed it.

'I like your mask.'​

 

[Gus Gungus]

When their eyes met, he finally knew Cobalt understood....

'They truly did...'

But in reality, Grey didn't suddenly break out into a dance and song with Cobalt.

Instead, he felt rather caught off guard and his reply nailed it.

'I like your mask.'​

Back outside the musical fantasy they were both clearly having in their heads right now, Cobalt's stare never broke, never wavered, never blinked. Or if it did, it was impossible to tell. Because mask.

"Yours is... creepy."

Then they flicked a bold, confident thumbs up, and told Grey the words he'd been waiting to hear his entire life.

"But I respect it."​

 

[MyrtenRose]

He quietly turned and walked towards the horses to try and get himself ready. The atmosphere of that conversation had made it clear his presence wasn't needed...

'Attempt to check up on. Failed spectacularly.'

Whatever her feelings on Grey slipping away, they were contained to one rather brief look at the man. But the moment passed, and her gaze returned to Winter. What a strange guy. That outfit was completely ill-suited to his line of work.​

"..."

Winter seemed oddly uncertain of how to respond to what by all rights appeared to be nothing more than a candid, well intentioned compliment. She eventually opted towards the somewhat unorthodox approach of reacting like Robyn was a superior officer giving her a dressing down, shifting her gaze away and brushing a strand of the aforementioned hair back behind her ear. "I just haven't seen much point... it's not like there's proper grooming stations here, we barely get running water..."

She seemed to catch herself with a cough, still a bit of a labor sometimes to work the military conditioning out of her head. She looked back up, thoughts still somewhat inscrutable behind that neutrally dutiful expression.

"Hey, no. Nah. None of that. I wasn't trying to tear you down. You don't need to excuse any of it. Like I said, it is a good look." Robyn finished her reply with a playful wink at the ex-soldier, content to let her interpret that in whatever manner she would.​

"...And I'm not happy or a huntress." She nevertheless pointed out, possibly an attempt at a joke. Possibly. It truly was difficult to tell.

She couldn't hide the fact that she had been taken aback by that. "Was...was that a joke?" She asked with a remarkable amount of solemnness before relaxing with an easygoing grin. "If it was, color me surprised. No offense meant, Frosty, but I didn't figure you the type. Guess that just means you're adapting, huh?" There was a round of snickers before she returned to the more serious look. "And if not, well, that's just a load of crap. You and me-" She gestured with a finger between them. "-We both graduated from the same Academy. That makes you a huntress, Frosty. Plus, if there's anybody who could make someone happy, I'd put money on Fiona being the one. She has that sort of infectious effect on people." ​

Winter seemed to embark through a journey of conflicting emotions throughout Robyn's words, albeit ones that barely even registered as flickers on the cool mask of practiced discipline that wasn't far removed from her sibling's in the least; if a bit less ubiquitous. She didn't look put out by the time the other woman finished, though, and took the hand with a grateful, if somewhat stiff, nod.

"Thanks. I don't think I'm there yet."

"Don't mention it, and don't sweat it. Take your time. Not like it's an instantaneous thing for somebody to figure themselves out after their life goes through so many extreme changes." She nodded back with respect and pulled her hand away once the shake concluded. "So..." She continued. "You going on this scouting run with the rest?"​

 

[MidwayLives]

Back outside the musical fantasy they were both clearly having in their heads right now, Cobalt's stare never broke, never wavered, never blinked. Or if it did, it was impossible to tell. Because mask

A trail of fog ebbed from Grey's person and seemed to engulf him...
​

"Yours is... creepy."

As he stepped through the fog having come closer, it dissipated and he looked at Cobalt. Their gaze staying locked all this time or at least one might have assumed so. Since both of em were wearing masks.


'Oh..'
​

"But I respect it."

"Thank you..."

'Words I'd never heard before. Usually the enemy is taken aback by my appearance. Some are afraid, some simply...don't understand. All valid enough responses. But it was nice to meet someone who felt similarly to me.'

"....Why do you wear yours?"

He had his reasons for wearing his: mostly for image-related reasons than anything else. But as far as he knew he'd never seen Cobalt take theirs off...​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"Hey, no. Nah. None of that. I wasn't trying to tear you down. You don't need to excuse any of it. Like I said, it is a good look." Robyn finished her reply with a playful wink at the ex-soldier, content to let her interpret that in whatever manner she would.

"..." A single eyebrow went up, the sole chink in that stern expression as well as the only indicator Robyn got that while Winter may have been a somewhat overly formal woman she was far from some socially oblivious wallflower too inexperienced to realize when she was being hit on.

She couldn't hide the fact that she had been taken aback by that. "Was...was that a joke?" She asked with a remarkable amount of solemnness before relaxing with an easygoing grin. "If it was, color me surprised. No offense meant, Frosty, but I didn't figure you the type. Guess that just means you're adapting, huh?" There was a round of snickers before she returned to the more serious look. "And if not, well, that's just a load of crap. You and me-" She gestured with a finger between them. "-We both graduated from the same Academy. That makes you a huntress, Frosty. Plus, if there's anybody who could make someone happy, I'd put money on Fiona being the one. She has that sort of infectious effect on people."

"...Hm."

She finally looked away with a neutral hum, having allowed a somewhat longer, more probing stare to settle on the huntress for the duration of her nickname-infested reply, like a therapist patiently waiting for her to get it out of her system. Her words were still cool and detached, any indication whatsoever that the other woman's prior words had caught her off guard in any way apparently effortlessly banished.

"Special Operative, Hill. There is a distinction. But in spite of your views on the Atlesian military, I've never had much patience for the pampered types."

Robyn was likewise free to make whatever she liked of that, Winter's unflappable demeanor certainly not giving anything away.

"So I suppose we'll see."

"Don't mention it, and don't sweat it. Take your time. Not like it's an instantaneous thing for somebody to figure themselves out after their life goes through so many extreme changes." She nodded back with respect and pulled her hand away once the shake concluded. "So..." She continued. "You going on this scouting run with the rest?"

She nodded, stiff and professional in demeanor once more if she had ever truly ever even ceased to be so. "We intercepted some Atlas communications chatter. It appears one of their ships ignored protocol and landed near the edge of the crater. If they're interested, so are we; we're going to run interference and make sure any operative investigations that arise are less than fruitful."​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"....Why do you wear yours?"

He had his reasons for wearing his: mostly for image-related reasons than anything else. But as far as he knew he'd never seen Cobalt take theirs off...

"Face got fucked up real bad. Burned. This sucker helps me breathe."

The gunslinger replied candidly, apparently not too sore about the subject in spite of its grisly nature. Their respirator clicked and hissed, drawing in breaths that did sound somewhat ragged when Grey came to think about it.

"You?"​

 

[MyrtenRose]

"..." A single eyebrow went up, the sole chink in that stern expression as well as the only indicator Robyn got that while Winter may have been a somewhat overly formal woman she was far from some oblivious wallflower too inexperienced to realize when she was being hit on.

"...Hm."

She finally looked away with a neutral hum, having allowed a somewhat longer, more probing stare to settle on the huntress for the duration of her nickname-infested reply, like a therapist patiently waiting for her to get it out of her system. Her words were still cool and detached, any indication whatsoever that the other woman's prior words had caught her off guard in any way apparently effortlessly banished.

"Special Operative, Robyn. There is a difference. But in spite of your views on the Atlesian military, I've never had much patience for the pampered types."

Robyn was likewise free to make whatever she liked of that, Winter's unflappable demeanor certainly not giving anything away.

"So I suppose we'll see."

"Former special operative." Robyn was quick to correct in turn. "Which means, guess what? You're free to be called a huntress now. If you want to be, that is. Unless you plan to return to the military after all this. Do they let deserters back in?" She questioned even as she shrugged. The specific title she chose to go by here, it wasn't that big a deal. "Oh, is that so?" Her eyebrows raised, a certain level of appreciation emerging in those purple eyes. "Understandable. I don't have that much patience either. I guess that makes two things we got in common."

At her last, she nodded. "I suppose we shall." She commented in agreement.​

She nodded, stiff and professional in demeanor once more if she had ever truly ever even ceased to be so. "We were able to intercept some Atlas communications chatter. It appears one of their ships ignored protocol and landed near the edge of the crater. If they're interested, so are we; we're going to make sure any operative investigations that may arise aren't fruitful."

"...I'm in." That sounded intriguing. Not just anybody could have commandeered an Atlas ship and used it for themselves...or were bold enough to try.​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"Former special operative." Robyn was quick to correct in turn. "Which means, guess what? You're free to be called a huntress now. If you want to be, that is. Unless you plan to return to the military after all this. Do they let deserters back in?" She questioned even as she shrugged. The specific title she chose to go by here, it wasn't that big a deal.

Winter will remember that.​

 

[MyrtenRose]

Winter will remember that.​

“What?”​