If It Be Thusly (Weiss Schnee x Reader)

The Push and Pull of the Wind

"There's a new rat faunus at my place," Max says, leaning against one of the tables in a Calypso training room.

"As help?" Elise asks, filing the end of her nail.

"Yeah, he's like a chimney sweep or something, I dunno. Anyway, I started throwing things in the gutter by my place, like a watch or a ring."

"Because who doesn't trash priceless jewellery?" Elise interjects with a grin.

"Exactly. As I was saying, slowly these expensive things start going missing, and sure enough who gets blamed?"

"Mouseboy?"

"Once again, he was a rat. But yes, and now he's spending two years in prison."

"Damn, man. That's brutal," Elise comments. She's able to feign being shocked and offended but in reality, she feels nothing but mediocre amusement. It's not necessarily that she's evil, like Max certainly is, but just indifferent to justice. He shrugs, popping his knuckles.

"I guess? How bad can prison be?" Some people just lack that key part of the brain named empathy. It makes them excellent CEOs, businessmen and fighters, because the pain of others is an abstract and distant fact, not something that pierces your heart like it should.

As the two joke and laugh instead of working, (They can already ace the exam with minimal effort.) Weiss bursts into their training room, stamping on the wooden floor. Her eyes are reddened and sore but refuse to cry, like a flower that stops itself from blooming or a full moon that never comes.

"Weiss? You okay?" Elise asks. Max just freezes up awkwardly, he's never been great with dealing with sad people. Even worse with women.

"What do you think?" She spits back. Elise ignores the vitriol and walks up to her with as comforting as smile as she can muster.

"What happened, Weiss?" She asks, gently rubbing the spot between her shoulder blades.

"I'm doomed," she whimpers. "My grade is damned to be as low as it can be, and my father won't let me go to Beacon with that."

"Well, hey, you don't know that for sure," Elise says lightly, gently pulling Weiss over to sit on the table.

"I do when Sommerhaut is my partner."

"He can't be that bad."

"He doesn't even know his semblance," she forces out. Even she feels ashamed to say it.

"Oh," Elise replies, suddenly finding herself bereft of any comfort to give. "I see. That is... uh, problematic."

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Weiss left the room almost ten minutes ago and has yet to return. Though you doubt she will. In truth you feel a strange mix of guilt and pleasure brew in your heart. To some extent it's satisfying to see the perfect doll have her perfection marred by something outside of her control, and to some extent you feel as though you're a ball of iron chained to her ankle. If you were her, you'd be upset too. Probably crestfallen and defeated in fact, because you certainly will drag her grade down a lot, probably not enough to fail, but when you're so used to being the very best, being mediocre can feel just as maddening as flat-out failing does.

You glance out the windows, where snow has piled up so high it looks like the pavement and stone's grown a thick layer of smooth, sparkling fur. Even though you hate the Kingdom of Atlas and the worthless soil it's built on, even you can't deny that the endless winter has its moments of starry beauty.