If It Be Thusly (Weiss Schnee x Reader)

Fatal Familiarity

Weiss dances in a ballet of ripostes and thrusts, refining her technique to an inch of a step. You watch lazily while sitting against the wall, not appreciating the nuances of her fighting style as much as you should. Occasionally she adds a glyph, which explodes into ash or cinder or a crown of deadly ice. There's no sign of concentration on her face, you note, just a blank, serene look. It's the sign of a master so learned that they don't even realise how talented they truly are. Not that you'll tell her that.

"How's your hand?" She asks, the first thing either of you have said this morning apart from brief greetings.

"Better," you say, remembering last night. It's a clouded, sleepy memory, as though marred by ink. All you can remember clearly is her voice and her face, shimmering like the face of the moon.

"The cast is holding?"

"Mhm," you hold it up. Though barely a cast, it's done well.

"Good," she replies, both stifled and refined. There's a certain respect for each other that wasn't present before last night, as well as an awkwardness in the room. You've gotten closer to each other by actions but not with words, and now that need to actually speak to each other is catching up slowly. Hesitantly she returns to her practice, with your eyes following.

"That's good," she repeats, as though that's all she can muster.

"Yep."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Usually, you just argue or insult each other, without that there's nothing but a deadly silence between you both.

"Look, I need to say something," she says, slumping her shoulders. Suddenly all the poise and refinement she had fades, replaced by an awkward, closed off pose. She seems much more uncomfortable actually looking at you this morning than she has the past two days when she had pride at her side, but now that's fallen slightly, replaced by something you don't quite recognise.

"I'm sorry. Okay?"

"Mhm? For what?" You say dumbly, since she's already apologised from her half-said comment about the faunus.

"For bringing you into that duel, with Elise and... and with Max," she refuses to look at you, glaring off to the side. Her hand clasps the other arm tightly, and her legs are pulled closely together. "It was inappropriate of me to not consider your opinions of it."

"Yeah, I guess," you mumble. Admittedly you're shocked she's saying sorry at all, since you had thought getting an apology from her was like squeezing blood from a rock... or a pearl in her case. "Thank you for saying so."

"Mhm, you're welcome," she immediately goes back to her practice, her safe space.

The silence returns, yet this time it's somewhat more relaxed. Weiss occasionally asks for criticism or advice on her form, you give a few vapid comments. (Because you really can't see anything wrong with her at all, and to be honest you think she's just making polite conversation.) You make a mental note of some of her techniques, inspired to integrate some of her moves into your own arsenal. Before long the lunch bell rings, and Weiss sighs in relief. You stand up, shuffling around your bag for lunch food. Weiss walks toward you to prop Myrtenaster against the wall, next to you.

"I'll be back in a minute," she says off-handedly.

"You will?" You ask, surprised. She hums before strutting out of the room.

"What?" You say to nothing but air. Confused you take your rice out and squeeze half of a hemisphere of lemon over it. In barely two minutes she's back, holding a bottle of water and a plastic wrapped loaf of cheap banana bread.