If It Be Thusly (Weiss Schnee x Reader)

Weightless Sparks in the Wind

Today is Saturday: the best day of the week—no school, no responsibility, no problems. In theory it's a time when you can just relax and stare listlessly out of the windows like a coma victim, which is why you're currently wondering why you agreed to play telephone chess with Weiss before noon.

You groan and drag your hand across your face. "Bishop to E5," you say, staring up at the ceiling. You hear Weiss hum over your scroll and the sound of wood moving over wood. You imagine her chess set must be very pretty—maybe handcrafted and made from mahogany or the like. Your eyes roll over to make sure your hands are moving the right piece. Your own set is antique and the wood is rough and scratched, as though it's been rolled around and smoothed by the ocean's waves.

"Rook to B6," she says back, much quicker than you. Either she's super into this chess game or she's already on her fifth cup of coffee. Could be either with her. Honesty you're surprised she rang at all. Usually, you two avoid talking with each other on the weekends, because why would you? Even though you're solid friends now, Weiss has always had a sense of pride. She's not the type of person to ask others if they want to hang out or spend time to together. No, that would be an admission of defeat—an admission of loneliness. It's suspicious, and you wonder if she's upset about something, if there's something she wants to say but feels unable to.

"Hey, you still there?" she suddenly asks, breaking you from your morning lethargy.

"Right, right," you mutter, glancing back at the pieces. It's been too long since you last played and all this strategy is making your head hurt. It's too early for this, you think. "Um... I move my will to live into the trash," you grumble.

You practically hear her eyes roll. "Take this seriously."

"King to A1," you say. A beat of silence passes.

"You can't do that, it puts you into check," she says back.

"Ohhhh nooooo," you deadpan. "What a tragedy."

"Really?" she asks. "Are you really going to do this?"

You sigh and sit up from the living room sofa. "I'm sorry, Edelweiss, but it's too early for me. I didn't sleep well last night; my roof has holes and rainwater fell onto my bed."

"Wait, what?"

"Don't worry about it," you snap. "If you really want to play chess... for some reason, then we can play it later."

You hear her sigh this time. She hasn't rejected your idea straight off the bat, which bodes well. "Fine. What else can we do?"

You shrug—though there's not much point—and stand. "Just talk?" you say, walking towards the kitchen. You haven't had anything to eat yet and playing chess with Weiss has a way of building the appetite.

"Talk about what?"

You sift through what's on the shelves and find very little except for a cereal bar. It's not great (and possibly out of date) but it'll do. You lean back against the kitchen counter and chew on the corner. "I don't know. What are you wearing?" you say, your mouth somewhat full of crunchy oats.

"Please say you're joking," she grumbles. You can't see but she's massaging her forehead and blushing hard.

You chuckle and the tone of your voice becomes lighter. "Because I am wearing the sexiest Beowulf onesie."

She groans. "Stoooop, I already want to go back to playing chess."

"Anything but that," you mutter. "What do you want to talk about, then? Anything?"

Silence passes, like a cold stream flowing in the forest, almost imperceptibly. "No. Not really." Her voice is terse, stiff and cold like frozen steel. Something is wrong, that's for certain, but it seems her own pride makes her unable to reach out. She's imprisoned by chains forged in the fire of her own mind, and those chains are often harder to break than ones made from iron.