The Bird and the Garden

Epilogue: Schizophrenia (Bad Ending)

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

His footsteps were slow, and his feet nearly dragged across the ground. He had travelled across the empty world he lived in, seen the decaying cities that had once flourished with life, with people.

But he was alone. He would never experience the warmth of talking to someone other than the voices in his mind. The voices that tormented him. Driven insane by the loneliness of the world he had spent his life in, he walked aimlessly.

It had been three hundred and sixty seven years since the day he made his choice. His choice to destroy his own hopes and dreams, to destroy every last thing he ever cared about. Regret was not the word that could be used, anymore. Existential dread, self-loathing, hatred... None of those words could be applied. For without another person, they had no meaning. Hell, the only reason he could even remember how to speak was because he spoke to the voices in his head.

He tugged his hood further down, walking through the ruins of a city he once attended school in. Nature had begun to reclaim the world; grass taller than he was grew through the cracks in the pavement, and buildings were green with vegetation. But there was no sign of human life. The birds over head chirped and sang, and squirrels dipped between rocks. But there was no other humans in sight.

He walked through the empty city he had long forgotten the name of. All he remembered was that he once would spend hours in this city with the people close to him, over three centuries ago in his far distant childhood. He stopped in front of a rotting store, looking up at the molding sign that dangled over the shattered glass doors.

East Vale Mall, it read.

Vale. That's what this city was. He looked back at the ground, walking away slowly as the memories came flooding back. He would spend hours here with his friends. The friends he murdered in cold blood, all for a selfish delusion.

Who were his friends? It had been so long he had forgotten their names. He could hardly remember his own name, only saved by the voices that droned on and on in his head. He stopped in the middle of the street, turning his gaze - his single eyed gaze - to an old building before him. Half of it was in pieces, having been blown up by the man centuries prior. He walked towards it, stepping through the gaps where the doors had once been.

The building was devoid of life. Once, it flourished. People would come to party, to drink. The man himself would even stop by to drink at an unhealthy level. But those days were gone. There were no humans - only the ancient, black bloodstains left behind. He trotted over to the decaying counter, sitting at a stool and leaning against the wooden surface. The sponge of the bar stool had long been eaten by animals, and his elbows sank into the moldy wood. He used to eat his meals here, too. He would talk with three people all the time.

And yet, he could not remember their names. He vaguely remembered what they had looked like, but it was unclear. He sat, as if waiting for something to happen.

But alas, nothing happened. Nothing would ever happen again. No human nor Faunus life existed. Except for himself, of course. Not that he'd ever consider himself human again. It takes a monster to do the things he had done. He was on the same level as...

He clutched his head. He couldn't even remember the name of the eldritch abomination that did this to him. He stood up, tugging off his cloak and tossing it to the ground. Finally, the man could be seen.

His name was Vao Branwen. Or, at least that's what he thought it was. His black hair fell to his ankles, and his pale skin seemed to glow in the sunlight. But most notable was his single right eye; the left having been torn out centuries ago. Centuries ago, he had killed everyone he knew. His family, his friends, and his enemies. But as with most things, he could not remember why.

He turned without a word and left the rotted building, the afternoon sun washing over him as he stopped outside. Vale was silent. Only his footsteps filled the void of nothingness, the abandoned buildings looming overhead like menacing phantoms of a world he had forgotten.

Vao didn't feel bad about anything he did. Vao could barely feel anything. His mind had deteriorated, decayed, and fallen apart in his decades upon decades of loneliness. The first century had been difficult, for sure. Not a day had gone by where he hadn't tried to kill himself. But eventually, he began to forget. He slowly lost his memories of the past. He lost his memories of his once beloved brother. He lost his memories of his captor. He forgot the loneliness, and began to believe this was how the world had always been.

No longer was Vao affected by Salem's Blood. He no longer had cannibalistic or murderous urges. He only felt emptiness, as if he was just a doll. He walked down the grassy street aimlessly, as if he had no destination.

He wondered where he came from. How did he come to be, in a world where there was nothing else? A squirrel crossed the street in front of him. It stopped and stared up at him curiously. Vao reached into his pocket and fished out seeds he had collected from an old store, crouching down and extending his hand. The rodent hopped towards him cautiously, sniffing his palm before accepting the food graciously. A small smile formed on his lips. His finger gently strokes the animal's head, the squirrel finishing it's meal and darting away into the undergrowth.

Vao wanted to follow it. And that's what he did. He pushed through the bushes carelessly, the thorns slicing his soft, yet scarred skin like paper. He walked through the woods for hours, but no matter how much he searched, he couldn't find the squirrel. Instead, he found something else. An old building, half of it already fallen down. With a curious stare, he climbed through a hole and dropped into the building.

The carpet was a faded red, and the halls looked like they were once a grand sight. Something about it looked familiar to Vao, but he didn't bother trying to remember. Instead, he wanted to explore the new place he found. As he walked down the halls, he counted several doors that lined the hallway. Until he found one, that is. It still had it's placard above the door. The metal was rusty and scratched, but he could just manage to make out the words. He struggled to read them aloud.

"T... Tea... Team... RTRN...?"

Long ago, he would have pronounce it as 'return'. But this time, he spelled out the letters. The door was ajar, and he pushed it open.

The room was a mess. Mold grew in the corners and on the four beds, and rotted wooden desks dotted the corners. A closet with a destroyed door sat in the corner, which he explored. There were old belongings and a box of screws, bolts, and weapon oils. Vao looked around, curious about this place.

He remembered... But he could not remember who lived here with him. Vao moved towards one of the beds, sitting down on the surface. Maggots, bedbugs, and cockroaches spilled from the holes in the mattress, desperately trying to flee from their disturbed home. Vao smiled and waved at them, unaware that they were once seen as disgusting and vile. Something moved from the corner of his eye, and he looked to it.

"Vao..." A woman's voice called out softly. "You're back..."

He was staring at someone he once viewed as a friend. He used to know her as Pyrrha. Vao smiled again.

"Hello..."

Pyrrha smiled warmly, walking towards him and resting a hand on his shoulder. "Where have you been? Y/N's been so worried..."

Vao giggled. "Who's that?"

"Your brother... Let's go... We'll go see him..."

Vao didn't know he had a brother. He stood up and followed the stranger, down the hall and to another room. This one's placard said Team JNPR. When he stepped inside, there were eleven people. Team RWBY, JNPR, and the rest of his Beacon team. As Pyrrha introduced Vao to them, they all began to talk and chat, as they did in the old days.

Vao spoke to the empty air, listening to responses that never came. Vao was alone. In that room, in that old Academy, there was only Vao. And yet, he believed he was in the company of others.

Vao was alone.

Remnant was empty.