RWBY: Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

Chapter Six: Dance Magic Dance

A/N: Hamilton references, anyone? ;) In my defence, Philip Schuyler is normally a senator in most modern Hamilton AUs, so the sisters at least wouldn't be out of place at a Schnee ball? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Blake stood up in the subway, on the way to the masquerade. Her mask was held in her hand - a cat mask, quite plain, with a little silver embellishment. Around the time of the Vytal festival, it wasn't difficult to find these sorts of things at street-side vendors' shops. Her bow was, of course, securely covering her other pair of ears.

"I still can't get over how amazing your dress is," Yang grinned, lightly punching her girlfriend's shoulder. "Or how amazing you are in it."

Blake rolled her eyes, hoping the heat rushing to her cheeks hasn't translated to colour. "It's just been sitting at the back of my cupboard, gathering dust..."

Last year, while browsing the 'lbd' tag on tumblr, (as in 'Lizzie Bennet Diaries') she'd come across some 'Little Black Dresses'. There had been one she couldn't resist - just coming to her knee, it was a matte materiel, with long sleeves, and a turtleneck. It hadn't been hard to dress up - just a messy bun updo, and some silver earrings, borrowed from Pyrrha.

Yang shrugged. "You look great, seriously."

The faunus looked away, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thankyou. You too." It was true: Yang's fiery orange dress, from her year 12 formal, suited her perfectly.

They stood opposite each other. The moment might have been romantic, if not for three minor details:

1. They were on a subway. Even if it was pretty empty, it was still a subway.
2. Blake still had a bit of a study hangover.
3. Ruby was there.

Yang's sister had never ridden the subway in heels. And, being someone who hadn't yet mastered the art of not-stumbling-whenever-the-train-stopped, this was proving rather difficult. And potentially destructive.

"Wha- WOAH?!"

Blake looked up as Ruby half-fell onto another passenger - a guy about their age. Ruby let out a squeak of surprise, and leapt back. He propped her back up onto her feet, smiling. "You okay?"

Ruby blinked, regaining her bearings, clutching the silver metal. "Fine, thanks."

Yang rolled her eyes. "I knew those heels were a bad idea."

"Well, they definitely weren't my idea." Ruby retorted, with a hint of a sigh.

Blake shrugged. "You'll be glad everyone isn't an extra head taller than you when we get there."

The guy's gaze flicked between the tree of them. Then he smiled, outstretching one hand towards Ruby. "Flynt."

She hesitated, then removed one hand from the silver pole she was holding, taking his. "Ruby."

He smiled, giving a mock bow. "Pleasure to meet you. And you two are?"

"I'm Yang, and this is Blake. Are you from Vale?"

"No, I'm a proud Atlesian," he grinned, then hesitated. "Well, proud of most things."

Blake watched, both amused and in awe as Flynt and Yang proceeded to make conversation, 100% hitting it off.

"And what do you do, Mr Not-Totally-Proud-Of-Atlas?"

"Me? I'm an artist - a musician. Jazz. Trumpet. Stride piano."