Emerald sat up sharply, her body sweating as she breathed heavily. She looked around the hospital room nervously, after a moment her head drooped and she sighed. "That nightmare was awful...I never want to sleep again..." Come to think of it, Emerald couldn't remember falling asleep. Between her near fatal injuries, being poisoned, and the pain meds it wasn't really all that surprising she had passed out.

Slowly she laid her head back down on her pillow, sitting up made her feel way too dizzy, she didn't even want to think about trying to stand up.

Not sure what else to do, she picked up her Scroll which lay beside her and checked for any new messages. She spotted Diamond's message about bringing food for them that wasn't hospital food. Aw yiss. She quickly sent a reply.

Bring me milk and cookies...actually make that chocolate milk.

After sending her demand for cookies she looked at her other new messages. Her eyes widened as she saw the message about all the events for Monday, specifically the part about the freshmen's parents being invited to the school. "Oh Gods I hope I'm feeling well enough to leave the hospital by then...my parents will flip out if they see me like this..." It had been hard enough to convince her parents to let her attend Beacon as it was, she didn't need to give them an excuse to pull her out!

"They can't find out how badly I got hurt, no way!"

The way Sapphire spoke played with Oswald's emotions in a cruel way. He knew she hadn't meant to, couldn't have, really, but the way she spoke about the situation- the way she spoke like she knew exactly what it was he was going through-reminded Oswald of Blaine once more. She's just like him. Just like me. The last month of Blaine's life had gone almost the same as it had for Oswald-the two were closed-off, angry, and tried to hide their pain from everybody else. The major difference was that Oswald's self-destructive outlet at least served to help further his physical condition.

That's what you tell yourself, at least. In reality, Oswald was doing much more damage to his body, but that damage was easier to hide. Internal. Blaine, on the other hand, had utterly refused contact with anybody but Oswald and Cerise, and rarely ate unless they practically forced it down his gullet. They had been making such progress when they found him.

Hanging. Closing his eyes and shaking his head roughly, Oswald took a moment to compose himself, hoping that when he looked back at Sapphire, he wouldn't see the same look everybody else had given them in the days after- damnable pity.

What had Sapphire just said? It's not worth it? She's right...but I can't just stop. I can't let this be where I stop growing. If he slowed down his training, would his body maintain its condition? Would it grow, or deteriorate if he didn't constantly push himself? That's not what she means, and you know that. He did, but admitting it and accepting it were two completely separate beasts.

"I...you're...you're right, Sapphire. It isn't worth it." But how did she know? What had happened to her? Who had hurt her, and why did seeing her like this make him so damned angry?!

Before he could even try to reign in his whirlwind of emotions, Sapphire's Scroll dinged, and she leaped at the chance to check whatever message she'd been sent. In her position, he might've done the same. This had gotten far more emotional than either of them could have imagined.

"I just...I don't know any other way." And that was the crux of Oswald's problem. The only remotely healthy outlet he knew for venting his pain and frustration required a bit of time to setup and a bit of booze, both of which were on limited supply here at Beacon. Before these missions, he'd been doing relatively well- at least, he thought he had been.

But it seemed that he was just hiding it all away, waiting for something to come along and open that old wound yet again.

@Prince of Seraphs

Things went well.

Lauren throwing her clothes around always meant good things for BASL. If Lauren's clothes flew, the event was always accompanied with the dark-skinned bundle of hype smiling and poking fun at each of her teammates. Not that Sangue minded- it made her day, even if some of what Lauren said left her confused.

She earned money, and quite a lot of it. She had a good handful of it to the point where she thought about quietly sharing it with her team.

As Lauren dragged BASL's beloved team leader out of the room, Sangue blinked as she quietly responded to Lauren's question on bringing dinner, "Anything is fine."

And it really was. She could eat anything except for spinach on its own. For some odd reason, she never found her stomach being able to handle those well without having them accompany other foods.

Oddly enough, as soon as she realized that only she and Amy would be the ones left in the dormitory, Sangue blanked out.

"I... want to take... a... short walk," she said to Amy, staring blankly at one of the walls around her. The redhead thought about spending some time outside before she rested at the dormitory. She had some things to think about, and reflect upon, as well.

"Would that... be... fine?"

Her own emotions, and the things she earned. Her current progress in the academy so far, and the friends she made.

A particular boy with a lively ahoge came into mind.

There had certainly been progress for her making friends. She just did not know where it would lead to.

Gratia Mindaro - Infirmary

"Smile any further and it'll be glued to your face."

Gratia's words were toneless as usual, utterly lacking in any sort of emotion. Her cool onyx eyes were fixated upon Nuit's slight frame, unwavering gaze following her comrade as she struggled back into the bed. Yet it was clear that she The Faunus girl's actions had been reckless, and likely detrimental to a faster rate of physical recovery. The claim to need the bathroom? That had likely just been bullshit; her comrade wouldn't have been foolish enough to trip in such an unhygienic hive. No, that was likely self-inflicted.

She knew Nuit well enough to guess at what had likely occurred. The birdbrain probably had the wonderful idea of doing something moronic like try and walk by herself, hence the presence of the bruises. Idiocy of the same ilk as what the Faunus girl had performed before them. Yet despite the physical consequences ... the other girl looked happier now.

More confident.

That taste of independence ... of self-reliance ... it had helped.

"Don't pull that shit again, Nuit. The floor is to be dirtied by feet, not your torso."

There was no venom in those words.

But she would stop any attempt at repeating such a reckless activity.

Napoli Fiordilatte - Shooting Range

"Hey Oli, still picking out your weapon?"

For the sniper, memories were often his landline, a way to avoid the perils of dehumanizing everything. It would be easy to drift away while doing his job, to just view everything through the scope and forget the reality of his situation. Memories would bring him back home and remind him of what was important, even when the world around him turned unreal.

"Yeah, you know me, can't have anything too messy."

Bang!

As was often the case, even the moving target at the range was an easy shot for the young boy. The cheese eater had long since stopped going to the range solely to train, sure constant refinement was helpful, but the real benefit was the mental training. However even more important was the calming effect it had on his overall health. While in combat there was that ever present danger of growing detached, at the range it was almost a blessing. It was his way of zoning away and completely putting his troubles behind him, not worrying about the what ifs, could haves, and should haves. This was his meditation, his way of reassessing everything.

"I'm guessing you've already decided on keeping your mom's rapier then? Secondary form is a little tricky."

Breathe.

Relax.

Breathe.

As the tension in his muscles faded, giving way to the simple pull of his trigger, newer memories presented themselves for evaluation. Truth be told Vignoble's cheese eating, pun making, idiot of a teammate was still struggling with how things had turned out. A large part of him was actually questioning his remaining time at Beacon. He had signed up to fight monsters, not slaughter humans (as deplorable they might have been). There had been casualties in the last fight, and a part of him was certain he could have found a way to stop them. Bianca was a mess, Gratia's arrogance had reached a new high, he wasn't sure what to think of Beryl, and Vega was nowhere to be seen. Yet for some reason, he felt like half the crisis could have been averted if he had been just a little faster.

And perhaps, some of that was a result of his own arrogance.

"Guns tend to be messy, at least things like an assault rifle which love to rip and tear."

"It'd also be hard to limit collateral."

Whatever the case, a part of him kept running over the events of the past few days. Perhaps if they had been quicker Bianca could have been spared much of her suffering, perhaps he should have stayed with Beryl and helped her, he could even have been faster dealing with his opponents so he could back up Gratia. The fact remained that people were dead and injured and part of that responsibility fell squarely on his shoulders.

What kind of Hunter hunted humans?

"I got it Oli. A sniper would solve both problems."

So for now he trained and focused, the past was the past, he just needed to make sure next he was faster and that next time his aim was true.

If there was a next time.

"Think I have the aim for it tho? Might need to scope things out first."

"Just barrel through, you'll figure it out."

Barrel through, it was funny how Albano's advice always stuck with the young man. Even when the situation felt rough, or nigh impossible, somehow thinking of the only home that mattered managed to center him. Contrary to the beliefs of some people, the sniper wasn't much of a material person, on the contrary it was often the sentimentality of the intangibles that meant the most to him. When the path before him became muddled, it was those intangibles that brought him joy, it was those that gave him a purpose again.

"Think about it Oli, you could even have like a pistol for too close stuff, but between your dueling and your sniping, people would hard pressed to get near you."

"Aim to please in any situation?"

"Exactly."

So here he was, a path spiraling out before that he could not see the end of. On the one hand was a betrayal of the ideals he joined the Hunters for in the first place. He existed to serve humans and faunus, to protect them by killing monsters, not by hurting other humans or faunus. Right now he wasn't sure whether this path would guide him in that direction or not. On the other hand, there was a chance for reform, to show the world what it meant to be a Hunter, that some ideals truly were worth fighting for, regardless of so called naivete. The only question was whether this academy was his only path to such a goal, or whether he was better served finding a new home to develop himself at.

"Guess it's time to expand your range Oli. I'll help you train."

By now all of the targets had been riddled countless times. At this point there really wasn't much left to do at the range, both from a shooting standpoint and for his own mental health. Yet there was one ritual that still struck him as Scapino reverted back into components for Napoli to sheathe. A ritual that brought him clarity even when nothing else would, one that connected him to the other important figure in his life. His right hand reached for the pendant around his neck, rubbing but not opening it, as five words returned to his memory.

"Stay strong. Mio figlio prediletto."

Stay strong.

Gren watched the maid dutifully go do as he says, running off to help Sepia. Gren was half-tempted to go with her and talk with Shiro and Team KESS, but he chose against it for now. There was some things he needed to do, which involved sending two messages out, one for Abel and one for Shiro.

From: Gren Orchid
To: Abel Fulgerate @Lugubrious, Kuhaku Shiro @harinezumikouken, Sapphire Rode @Prince of Seraphs
Subject: RE Arcade and pizza?
I'll meet up with you soon. I just have to clean up here and change into something less on-fire. Catch up with you soon.

From: Gren Orchid
To: Abel Fulgerate @Lugubrious
Subject: Team KESS
I just saw Team KESS come back from their mission. Sepia seems like she's in a bad mood, so I thinking something might have gone wrong with their mission. Shiro is already over there right now, why don't you meet with him and the others at the airdocks? I'm sure could use some friendly folks right about now. I'll meet up with you guys a bit later.

Gren sent out the messages before heading back to the firing range to clean up his mess. He sent Abel a lone text because he wanted to make sure Abel was somewhat savvy of the situation, and because Gren was somewhat aware that Abel had feelings for one of the members of Team Kess. He just doesn't remember who, so he left it vague enough for Abel to capitalize on. Perhaps it was a bit manipulative, but Gren liked to think he was just making sure everyone gets their happy ending.

Gren returned to the firing range and found what remained of his aura-fueled jetpack. Lots of broken bits of metal and a stain on the floor. He was certain he could gain some information from the wreck, but his friends needed him right now. So Gren picked up a broom and swept up his mess before heading back to the dorms to change into something that was still in one piece. Since he was going out with friends, he felt like he needed to dress in a more impressive fashion than his previous outfit. He had a special pair of pants and shoes, primarily black but with gold trims, which he'd wear with his dark purple jacket. Underneath, he had a silver colored shirt with Beacon's emblem on it's back. To finish it off, he worn a checkered cabbie hat. He also put The God Eater away into his locker. A night out in the city shouldn't be too dangerous, and even if it was it would be more dramatic to summon his locker to crush his opponent then just whipping out The God Eater.

Finishing off by brushing his teeth and eating a mint, Gren headed out to meet Shiro and Abel. Hopefully they could use their charms to keep the girl's company. Because given Gren's recent luck with women, he was starting to think maybe he wasn't as charismatic as he had hoped. He sighed but kept his smile up. "Better luck next time I guess." Opening up the internet Gren played a song in his head, jamming to it as he walked to the meeting place.

The very instant Abel replaced his scroll in his pocket, the tone rang out that signified the arrival of a new message. That quickly? He slipped the device out again, leaning against the wall as he did. Sapphire? Should have known. Unfortunately, she did not want to join the group, citing some other responsibility to concern herself with. He didn't know whether he believed her, but if she thought she needed rest or solitude, that was that. Abel quietly bemoaned this turn of events. While his team did not share the friendliest dynamic around, he wanted with absolute sincerity to get over this rockiness and reunite with the people that were supposed to be his brothers in arms—especially Sapphire. The blue-haired leader of Swansong had only herself to blame for her current relationship with her teammates, but that didn't mean that Abel wanted her excluded. Even if she treated him coldly, he felt inclined to try and be a proper comrade for her. She was, after all, his partner. Fate had brought them together in the Emerald Forest, and the guardian wasn't one to give up on fate so easily.

Still, he could look forward to joining the boys, at least. Moving quickly now with great strides, Abel made tracks to the airship docks. On the way, he stopped when prompted by his scroll to check his inbox again. Suddenly excited to be headed out and doing something in the city of Vale, a place almost totally new to him, he read the message's contents, popped the scroll back into his pocket, and resumed his saunter with something on his face dangerously close to a smile. “Now we've got a plan,” he ruminated aloud. “The wheels are turning!” In no time at all he found himself squinting slightly in the late afternoon sun, just starting to go to gold. Heart light, he headed for the airport.

Almost immediately he spotted Shiro. Altering his course for his faunus friend, he raised an arm to shout a greeting. As he did, though, his eyes chanced to land upon the people right around him, and his shout died in his throat. At least, it tried to; something malformed, never meant to see the light of day, rose from the grave and squirmed out instead. “Auehh?!” Of all things he might have seen, he did not expect to find Sepia and...Krysanthe. What was she doing here? Not that he didn't want to see her, but...he wasn't ready! After showering, he'd paid absolutely zero attention to his hair, and while he very seldom fretted about his appearance, the fact seemed awfully conspicuous all of a sudden. Feeling like a big goon, he took a few seconds to compose himself. Could she have heard that goofy grunt? No, no...she was too far away, for certain. At that moment his scroll went off again and, grateful for the distraction, he browsed the new updates from Gren, two in rapid succession. On closer inspection, the second text looked to be for him alone. Sneaking a glance back toward the group, he recognized that Sepia did, though he wouldn't have immediately noticed on his own, seem to be in some sort of distress. “Thanks, buddy,” he mumbled as he ducked behind a planter. As fast as he could, he ran his fingers through his hair, effectively combing it back into the realm of civilized hair.

Abel took a deep breath, straightened himself up, and strode back into the open. With his left hand back in his pocket, he made his way toward Shiro, Sepia, and Krysanthe at a leisurely pace, trying to seem neither too eager nor too flippant. Once in range, he greeted them, “Hey! Good evening!” Only at that moment he realized that if he just barged in, he might upset Sepia somehow. Sweating on the inside, Abel gave his best attempt at a smile, and sidled closer to the other students. He maneuvered his way farthest away from Sepia, ending up somewhere near the middle between Krysanthe and Shiro. His hands clasped behind his back, not unlike the stance of a butler or bellboy. In earlier years he'd learned that such a position made him seem attentive and ready to lend a hand if need by, but removed and noncommittal at the same time. Standing like this, even a huge man could seem small, and even a big dolt could seem useful—at least, so he hoped. Unfortunately, it seemed as if he'd entered into a thick silence. “I..I hope I'm not intruding?” He murmured to Krysanthe, judging that staying totally silent after just arriving would be the weirder course of action.

I didn't do much talking on the airship ride back. Whether it was the grueling mission finally being a weight off of my shoulders or an understanding that my words would probably be drowned out by the wind and hype seated next to me, I ended up keeping my mouth shut in a thoughtful line.

Well, I assume that's what it looked like, anyway. I was doing a lot of thinking.

Reflection.

The mission was hard, by no stretch would anyone assume otherwise, even without taking into consideration the fact that it was our second in total. Our performance in surviving alone, you could argue deserved a pat on the back, and succeeding as massively as we did at the end hadn't quite sunk in yet as the extraordinary feat it was.

The road there, though was another story, and what I couldn't help but focus upon.

It was terrible. Fraught with inaction, miscommunication, fear, pressure, and plain inexperience. I couldn't speak for anyone else, but when I looked back upon it, as objectively as I could, I saw the near-miss of trainwreck. Between our split priorities, lack of cohesion and painful, slow deliberations, it was almost crazy how we managed to turn things around at the end.

It was... strange, honestly. That was what I felt, that was my strongest impression, especially when I focused in upon my specific role in it all.

I was the one calling to slow down all the time, right? I was the one always preaching that we needed to attack every problem that came our way with logical thought and a concrete, peer-reviewed plan.

It was like I had forgotten the rule my own sister had drilled into me: Conscious thought is slow. To slow to rely on when you're in the moment.

And wouldn't you know it: all of a sudden, when I had started to go with the flow, we seemed to start getting much more accomplished. We jumpstarted the elevator, evacuated the survivors, took down the manticore and even made a small fortune on the side, in the time that it would have taken for me to simply transport our injured at my pace.

...If we had taken my pace, Priscilla very well might have not made it.

I had been forced to do things quickly, and we had come out better for it.

My eyes drifted down to my hand, searching for a cut that had long disappeared.

That was perhaps the strangest thing. As the action faded into a blur the further from the moment I became, that was one thing that stuck with me.

Not that the cut was gone, but that there was one formerly on Priscilla’s body, equally as gone. By now I was almost certain of it. I had seen it one moment, and it had disappeared the next, before I could wrap it up.

But why? It wasn't as if her Semblance was a mirror of mine, it was closer to Cian’s, if anything. It's not like she was healing herself like I could.

Like me. That was the train of thought I kept coming back to. For a wound to disappear like that in the space of barely a couple of seconds was like me. It was how my own semblance worked.

I could sense it at the tip of my mind’s tongue. This was my lead, this was the track that I wanted to follow.

For her body to react like my own, while I was trying to patch her up…

I narrowed my eyes even as the refinery faded into the mists of the swamp beneath us. It had to be connected somehow. What I was doing played a role. That was the only way I could make any sense of it.

Somehow my self-regeneration had been transferred over to her in a small part. Only enough to be burnt out on a long scratch.

But it had been done.

I stared at that hand for a long while.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite being one of her new teammates, it appeared that I was not allowed to visit Priscilla for a while in the earlier stages of her treatment and recovery. I could understand the call being made, and would of course respect it, but nonetheless it left me wanting.

I was fairly sure that I had pieced together, over the ride and the subsequent medical checks, debriefing, and trek home, what had transpired in that moment. Why I had managed to impart some of my own healing ability upon that wound of hers.

But I wouldn’t get the occasion to test it yet. Not on her, at any rate. The nurses had calmly turned me away with nothing more than a simple “she needs rest” when I had decided to revisit the infirmary.

Well, I did come with the stated intention of asking how she was doing, so I supposed it would figure that would be the answer I’d get. And asking to barge in and try something as outlandish as what I had come up with on a girl in her condition was also just a touch on the “sounds completely mental” side of the spectrum.

So I paced the hall, not wanting to leave but not having anywhere to go. It was honestly kind of similar to how I would sometimes aimlessly wander after class had gotten out in my high school days.

Only, I’d say, with a little more purpose.

My arm, still bare thanks to my lack of replacing a hoodie before coming here, bumped against someone else’s. I needed to watch where I was going whenever I got like this, always had.

“Sorry, Gratia.”

The words left my mouth on automatic, and--

“Wait— Gratia? Beryl? What are you two doing here?”

"Uh..." Sepia stared at Shiro for what would have felt like forever to the nearly mortified girl in any circumstance, never mind that her time perception was starting to go all wavy. "Not too much, I'll be...fine. Just need to sit down for a minute..." She was starting to feel like she'd just stepped off of the world's most jarring rollercoaster. Trying to keep her traitorous legs from shaking, she attempted to stand up especially straight and composedly. That turned out to be a mistake. A sharp twinge radiated from her side outward, and she involuntarily hunched her shoulders again in compensation. One of these shoulders being the one where - eek! If her heart had been pounding before, she was starting to wonder if she had a little bit of hummingbird faunus in her.

Fortunately, she was spared the decision of what to do next, as a rather exotic looking young women (maid?) approached the two of them and asked her if she would let her injury be seen to. "Is it really so noticeable?" Sepia puzzled, but ultimately decided that it couldn't hurt to at least get the girl's opinion. Somewhat reluctantly, she untucked and lifted the right side of her shirt to expose the bound area. "Sure, I guess. And thank you for offering." she smiled despite the circumstances, though she couldn't hold it for long. "Should I take the cloth off? It might start bleeding - well, worse than it is already." She glanced over her shoulder to check something she'd been wondering about earlier. "Although...the bullet doesn't appear to have gone all the way through. Does it need to be removed?" She definitely wasn't looking forward to that, especially since she seemed to have been nailed...of course, right underneath a rib, at an upward angle. Lovely.

Sepia's ears pricked up at the sound of a familiar voice. She turned her head to spot Krysthane nearby. She seemed a little uncomfortable, or maybe that was just Sepia's semblance picking up interference from someone else. Regardless, she tried to reassure her team leader. "Don't worry. I know you have my back when I need you." Really, it was remarkable how witnessing people behave charitably could help smooth out her temperament when she was feeling a little ragged. Scratch that, a lot ragged.

@harinezumikouken @Eklispe @Ryonara

Esther Vanhomrigh - Rifle Range

"I can't fucking believe them!" a seething Esther cursed, her voice bellowing and carrying far.
She was absolutely fuming as she made her way to Beacon Academy's rifle range.
Any students within her path immediately cleared the way, lest she turned her well-known wrath upon them.
"Hey, hey! Calm down, lady. You're gonna get an aneurysm! Pop a blood vessel or something! Shit!"
Said a darker skin-toned man trailing close at her side.
The man made a hand motion, as if to appease her rage and get her to calm down.
It didn't work.
"What sense does it make, huh? They suffered enough already! Why not have a fresh team take on the mission instead?! Why them?!"
Esther grit her teeth, a wild and intense fire burning in her eyes as she vented to her friend.
"Come on now, Vanessa. I'm completely lost here, you gotta fill me in. I'm stuck in the middle right now."
She whirled on him, the two continuing to walk to their destination as she continued to throw a bit of a tantrum.
The man barely dodged her arm.
"The mission my team had just come back on! I debriefed the head shed on the situation and put in my request for the next mission, right?"
The large man nodded.
"Uh-huh, okay? And then...what?"
"I asked for a different team to take on the next mission, barring the current ones. Give them a break, y'know?! I was looking out for the kids and the request got denied! Stating some moronic reason about 'existing knowledge and experience'! Who gives a flying fuck about that, the kids nearly all died!"
The man walking by her side sighed and tapped at the side of his temple.
"You gotta think of it from their perspective, Vanessa. Why would they want to subject and potentially traumatize a fresh batch of young minds?"
Her voice took a rise.
"So they want to continue to torture the same ones!?"
She stopped, turning to him as her body was positively shaking with anger.
The man nervously chuckled and slowly stepped to her, placing his large hands on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down.
"Easy now, easy...What else can you do, Vanessa? Huh? The top brass have already made their decision. All you can do is prepare them for the future as best you can, like I know you can. This time, they know what to expect. The shinies on our side have already agreed to elevate the level of support they would receive if they decide to accept it. The Traversers are already on board."
Upon the mention of the 'Traversers', Esther seemed to calm down a little. Her shaking subsiding.
Her voice grew quieter.
"...They are? That got approved?"
The man nodded, smiling.
"Yup. That's part of the reason I came here. To give you the good news myself and to suggest we blow off some steam. Now, let's go to the range and put rounds on some targets like we planned. Later, we'll go out for drinks with the rest of the guys. Whatdoyasay? Huh?"
The man patted her shoulders, Esther stood there quietly for the moment.
She sighed heavily.
"Fine."

---

In her 'mood', Esther and company hadn't been aware of any others that were present on the range. To them, they believed themselves to be the only ones there. Uncharacteristic of them, but Esther's nerves were worn and shot. Somewhere in between her mentioned 'briefing', Esther found the time to change into more appropriate attire for some combat shooting practice. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail, Esther was wearing a tan ball-cap with some wolf's emblem on it. A long-sleeved olive-green t-shirt as her top, khaki cargo pants, and some rugged-looking sneakers finished her look. She looked and dressed much more differently than normal, it would've been somewhat difficult to recognize who she was if she didn't speak. And if it weren't for her signature weapons she always kept with her.

Strapped around her waist was her 'war belt' with its accompanying magazine pouches and her side arm at her right hip. Slung on her back was her treasured custom-built rifle. As she began to load her magazines with cheap practice ammunition from her own private stock, her friend prepared the targets. Fumbling with the controls as he messed with the automated functions on the range.

For a while, the two readied and prepped in silence.
The man broke it first.
"Man, I'm having a hard time figuring out how to set up these targets. Back at base we just announce the firing line cold before walking down and stapling the paper targets on. Damned new-fangled tech. How in the hell does an educational institution have more funding and backing than a private military contracting group is beyond me. This is ridiculous."
Esther quietly sighed and set down the magazine she was currently loading, walking over to take the controls from the man.
"Here, let me see."
The man's eyes flitted to look at her face, before turning his attention back to what Esther was showing him. Leaning in close.
"That's how you operate the range."
Esther said, matter-of-factly.
The cut slab of a man whistled, impressed.
"Thanks."
Esther handed off the controls and returned to loading out her magazines.
Another awkward silence between the two.
Esther was the one to break the silence now.

"How's the divorce going?"
The man made a face, shrugging dismissively.
He looked over at Esther's back.
"Finalized. She took what was her's and left. Didn't claim Desaleigh to be her's though."
Esther hmm'ed, clicking her tongue.
"Of course not, the bitch. I told you didn't I? Not to do it."
The man turned back to what he was doing.
"Yeah, yeah. I know..."
Another moment of silence.

"...How's the kid?"
Esther asked.
The man smiled.
"She's great. She's gotten so big now, you should come over some time and see her."
Esther smirked, shaking her head.
"Nah.... You can come over to my place, y'know. You already know where I live."
The man chuckled.
"Might just have to do that. She would love to play with Nero."
Another moment of silence.

The man, finished with setting up the range for Esther's course of fire, stared at her turned back.
"How have you uhh...been coping? Since the mission...?"
Esther put on her hearing and eye protection.
"Is the range set?"
She avoided the question.
The man licked his lips and sighed.
He put on his hearing and eye protection as well.
"Yeah."
The man wiped a hand over his mouth.
"Go through the course of fire."
Esther demanded.
The man made a face that Esther didn't see, looking off to the side. He itched his goatee.
"We'll start off with a warm-up. Four targets total. One pop-up target at 100 yards. Second pop-up target at 50 yards. Third pop-up at 50 yards. Final pop-up at 100 yards. Failure to stop drills, so that's two to the chest and one to the head on each for a total 12 shots."
Esther cracked her neck, loosening up.
"Time?"
She asked.
The man scoffed.
"It doesn't matter, you'll destroy it anyways."
Esther smirked.
"Does the shooter understand the course of fire?"
He asked, getting ready to start.
Esther nodded.
"Is the shooter ready?"
He asked, finger hovering over the button which would activate the pop-up targets down range.
Esther settled into her stance. Feet shoulder width apart with a slight bend in her knees, her ass sticking out just a bit as she leaned forward at the waist. Slipping out a magazine from a pouch on her belt, she slammed it into the magazine well and charged her rifle. Shouldering it, she pointed its muzzle down range as she stared through her sight.
"Aye, ready."
Esther said.
The man's eyes couldn't help but take a second to...admire her combat stance.
"Shooter may commence when your taaaargets appear!"
He tapped the button which then loudly beeped.

The targets all then popped up, but as they popped up they hardly stood a chance. Being shot down just as soon as they appeared. Though her rifle was semi-automatic, her trigger finger was so trained that they all seemed like seamless automatic shots. 12 shots rang out one after the other and it was all over in literally seconds. Her shooting even giving the illusion as if she had some type of real-life auto-aim hack or cheat. The muzzle of her barrel having snapped to each target as if drawn by some powerful magnetism, though it was only her razor-sharp reflexes. As her magazine was only loaded with 12 shots, she ejected it and let it drop on the ground. The man couldn't help but smile brightly.

Esther straightened up and turned to look at him.
"Time?"
The man massaged the back of his neck, still smiling.
"Fucking 2.15 seconds."
Esther smirked.
"That's terrible, I'm rusty. What are my shot placements like?"
The man continued to massage his neck.
"You could fit your hammer pairs on a lien cent piece, lady."
Esther shook her head, her smirk growing wider.
"That's pitiful, Tony. No keyholes?"
The man shook his head as well.
"You've hardly lost your touch, Vanessa."
Esther winked.

@Onarax

@HereComesTheSnow

Gratia Mindaro - Infirmary

"Schwarz."

Her greeting was as flat as one would expect from the aloof Mistralese girl, although a slight twitch of her brow was the only indication that she was in any way irritated by the manner in which Luke's arm had carelessly bumped into hers. Her onyx eyes flickered away from Bianca as she turned her head to face him, briefly glancing at the strange cowlick at the top of his head before her gaze lowered, impassive dark orbs boring into his metallic grey ones. So the boy had finished his mission then without suffering too much harm, if the lack of visible wounds were any indication.

The absence of the hoodie that he was usually wearing piqued her curiosity for the barest of milliseconds, but Gratia immediately dismissed those thoughts. Luke Schwarz was relatively fashion-literate, unlike other certain individuals whose wardrobes were akin to diarrhea splattered across the bathroom stall by a pair of scat fetishists. It was completely unnecessary to waste energy on questioning his clothing choices.

"We're visitors," she continued after several long seconds of silence, her expressionless visage unchanging as her eyes continue to watch his with a strange, unwavering intensity. "I assume likewise for you."

However, the brainless pacing about with nary a care for his surroundings hinted at more. Even a member of the drooling unwashed hordes had purpose, no matter how trite or bullshit, to their actions. What had occupied Luke Schwarz's mind to the extent, then?

@Silvan Haven, @HereComesTheSnow, @Crimmy

I shifted in my seat as the scent of Gratia’s peaked interest in something was aroused. I glanced up, straining and holding my side, which was a favourite of Vittoria’s, what she saw however was an antenna. But, it wasn’t steel. No, rather, it was made of hair. How peculiar. It seemed to just barely twitch.

“Oh my.”

Bianca said silently under her breath. No wonder Gratia was so impressed. With such a specimen how could you not be? Perhaps it functioned somewhat similarly to my wings.

.
.
.

“Hi Luke.”

He can’t see me from where he is, his view is obscured by Gratia and Beryl. Though I can see him, just his face however. Probably for the best.

If he saw me like this that would be embarrassing. Although, I suppose this is the rest of my life. This constant visage of tiredness, my broken wings, disappointingly slim figure. It’s what I’ve been dealt. Gratia would tell me to play that hand. But it makes you think it might be worth folding.

“I heard your mission was rather difficult. Hopefully everyone made it out okay?”

They must’ve truly been out of my league. Word on the street is that they fought a Grimm so huge that it took all eight of them to kill it. Yet here I was, a single feathered bird who had been run through the streets of Mistral after fighting just one family. At what point does a hunter stop being a hunter?

At which point are they hunted?

These are my new questions.

Fuck. This had to change.

You know, after having an eye the size of my entire head glare up at me with pure, animalistic intent to kill, Gratia's base level of... Gratia didn't seem too bad, in retrospect. I met her gaze evenly, much more so than I could before.

I'd stabbed scarier eyes than those of a mild Gratia.

...Talk about a strange statement.

So they were making visitations too, huh?

Though, I was fairly certain they'd be more here purely for reasons borne of goodwill, as opposed to me. Even if I was doing it because I thought I could accelerate the healing process, I had to admit to myself that going to a hospital and asking to see people only to try and experiment upon them was pretty selfish. In contrast, despite her rough exterior, I didn't think there was an ulterior motive behind being here for Gratia, and if it was Beryl, I didn't think there even could be one.

I mean, I could see her being dragged along by Gratia if it was me they were visiting, to take notes on how my hair did whatever she saw it do when I was injured or somesuch, but that aside.

Beryl was a nice girl.

"Yeah," I responded with a bit of a sigh. "I wanted to check up on someone we brought back, but she can't take any visitors right now."

Especially not ones attempting to perform an impromptu transfusion.

"Hi, Luke."

My felt my eyebrows rise as my curiosity piqued, reacting to a soft, new voice that carried a light hint of an accent, one that was reminiscent, but fainter and somehow more refined than Gratia's.

"I heard your mission was rather difficult. Hopefully everyone made it out okay?"

...It felt like we had just finished debriefing, and already word had reached people outside of our— I should say, of my social circle.

Wow.

I peered around the two transfer students inquisitively, managing to snake my head around two taller girls to a point where I could see her.

She was a girl.

Well, obviously.

A girl, garbed in a standard hospital gown. Her white hair was a tad ruffled, presumably due to being cooped up in here, and her blue eyes were ringed by lines I knew all too well from the mirror.

Tired. That was the story her eyes told, the language of her thin, borderline gaunt body told. Even her face, which was undeniably elegant and beautiful...

All I saw was "tired".

"Uh, yeah... those of us that went in made it out fine, but..."

Something shifted behind her, drawing my attention.

And then, my focus.

I had thought them a cushion, maybe a blanket at first, but now I saw what was behind her for what they truly were—

Wings.

Patchy, worn, damaged wings that had no business being in the air. Torn primaries dangled, useless, and either barely managed or failed entirely to cover the pink, scarred tissue underneath.

I quickly realized why she was here.

"You're..."

Wings.

Mistralese.

Suddenly here, connected to Gratia and Beryl, and unfamiliar.

My eyes widened a fraction as I put it all together.

"Bianca, right?" I said it venturingly, despite being mostly sure.

Quietly, without saying a wors, Skyra slowly got off the airship. She hated herself for the failure of the mission, even though it was nowhere close to be her fault. Nothing she had done did in any way contribute to their failing, but she might as well have. Not even mentioning that they had lost one of their teammates. To be honest, she never actually liked Ebon. Still, he was... a human being, she guessed. Probably.

A bit dejected Skyra pretty much ignored firstly Sepia running away and then Tigerboy as well while she placed herself onto a bench nearby.
Even if she was spoken to, she'd more or less not even notice right now. But at the same time, she did not know herself why she even had that mental response. There really was nothing be so apathetic about, but that did not seem to matter for her mind.
To any outside spectator, she was simply sitting there, her head buried in her hands with her ears tilted to the back.

"What did I do wrong...?", she contemplated in silence, but even after ten minutes of intense thinking, she had not come up with a solution. So, with a stern look on her face, she stood up from her isolated bench and joined the rest of the group, including a new girl that had joined a few minutes earlier and seemed to be trying to treat Sepia's wound.
"Let's go eat some pizza... I wanna get drunk tonight. Like, real drunk and maybe even forget about the whole day. Or anything really...", she stated determined.

”You’re…”

Wings.

He sees them.

What’s left of them.

What is left of them?

Shut up, he doesn’t care about that kind of thing.

How do you know?

He’s staring.

He is not.

Wouldn’t you?

You’ve insulted people for less than the disaster you are now.

"Bianca, right?

”Um, yeah Bianca Nuit. Former member of VGNB.

Former huh?

Tough break.

Shut.

Up.
“I’ve been told that I might be able to join a team, I guess. I’m not really in the… Right shape.

Right shape. That’s a joke.

You’re hardly even classifiable as a shape. You’re a mess who made her team risk their life and her own because she couldn’t hold her own in a fight.

“Doctor’s say I’ve got a long road ahead of me. At least seven to nine years of recovery and physio-therapy. But maybe one day I’ll join a team.”

Why won’t you just admit it?

Quit rambling and stop wasting his time.

You’ll never be anything. Ever. This was your last chance.

”But you know, I think that I might just get in there after all. What’s the point of staying cooped up in here while everyone else does their best to save the world while I waste away in this hospital room?

There isn’t a point. Not one that I can see. So it’s not what I’m going to do. I’ll just have to learn how to fight without my….

I’ll have to work around my…

Wings.

I’ll have to figure out a method of fighting that doesn’t involve my wings.”

My thought process was revitalizingly silent. There was no other thoughts, no doubts. Just silence. It was a refreshing silence.

By the time I had reveled in it long enough I realized I had left Luke out to dry, he and the others were looking at me waiting for something. It was the same look I got from the nurses, the same look Estelle gave me on my way in, Napoli gave me that look, even Vega when she saw what Bianca had picked up off the floor in the office.

But it wasn’t just one look, rather there were two, three, maybe even five looks interlaid within one another that created this complex emotion that everyone seemed to thrust upon me. It first started with Gratia. When a pair of black-clad arms wrapped gently around me, she pulled me into an embrace with her soft wool turtleneck, I could feel it against my clammy skin.

”You really are a fucking birdbrain, aren’t you, Bianca?”

Guilt, remorse, sadness, anger, hatred, fear, anguish. Not many could recognize such a vast range of emotion within Gratia’s sullen gaze, but I did. Perhaps it was because in the act of taking one life she felt more empathetic than ever. For it had felt she had ended not one but two people that day.

Yet here she was. Still holding on to some invisible hope.

But hold on she would.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t come here to visit me, I shouldn’t be taking you away from whomever should be so lucky to borrow your time today. Have a good day Luke.”

"Have a good day, Luke."

Dejected.

Defeated.

Broken.

Hopeless.

I felt my brow knit together, not out of anger, not out of disgust, but of pain. The pain of sympathy. The pain of empathy. The pain she was feeling was one I was viscerally familiar with. Was one I had struggled with before. Was one I had almost resigned myself to.

But I didn't resign. Somehow, some way, I found my way to keep fighting every day. I regained the fire in my belly, and forced myself all the way into Beacon and through an S-Rank mission.

And I wanted, selfishly in that moment, for her not to resign either.

It should be clear that I'm not talking about her wings. Those I had no experience with, those I never had, those I could never lose like she had. I hadn't even broken an arm before my semblance trivialized that sort of thing.

But that fire...

Try though she might, Bianca's words rang hollow in the ears of us all. Even to a bonafide idiot such as myself, it was obvious that her heart wasn't in them. She had lost that fire.

Her spirit was in tatters, just as much as, if not moreso than her wings. I'm no motivational speaker, nor an expert surgeon, so what I could do was limited. No matter how much I wanted to move heaven and earth for the sad, broken girl in front of me, there wasn't much I could do to help.

I clenched my fist and grit my teeth— and stopped.

My fist.

My hand.

I stared down at my hand again. Gazed intently at my thumb, eyes tracing the outline of a long-disappeared laceration.

"Not at all, Bianca."

Maybe there was something.

I looked back up to her, searching her eyes for a flicker of hope. My eyes then flicked to her wings, observing the damages once more, under a different light.

Extensive damage throughout, barely able to move. Torn musculature, torn feathers, torn skin. Yeah, a seven to nine year recovery and rehabilitation process looked about right to me. I tried to imagine my leg being similarly mangled, without the added delicacies that were part of a wing's existence, and could easily see a brutally long process.

She couldn't become a Hunter at that rate. She would be well into her late twenties by the time she could continue her freshman year.

That would make anyone not insanely dogged want to give up.

...But what if you could expedite that process?

What if those wings were back in proper shape?

What if they were ready to be used again?

What if they simply healed quicker than a timeframe of years?

I smiled.

"In fact, I think I might be exactly where I need to."

Yue

Location: Beacon
Activity: Talking some strangers
Thoughts: "These people really need help."

"Hmm... Well, if the bullet was made of a toxic metal, then yes. Otherwise it would be safe to leave the bullet inside, trying to remove it now may do more damage than good. Do you feel ill? Numbness? Light-headed? Have you been in any particularly filthy areas, such as sewers, slums, and other places like that when you were shot? And we would need you to take off some clothes, just so we can access the wound. But let's not do that here in the public. We must get you to the infirmary!" Although she said this, Yue still did undo the girl's bandages for something more proper. It appeared to be a shot in the girl's side, possibly tearing through her intestines and other organs. It may already be infected, and there isn't really a way to know that with what Yue had on hand. She must have been in a very bad situation if her aura could not protect her from a stray bullet.

Of course after their mission, Yue could understand that the girl's team would want to celebrate or at least get their minds off the mission. But Yue couldn't help but worry for this stranger. There were no such things as minor wounds; even a scratch can become deadly if unattended, and by the time it got that badly simple means to treat it are no longer acceptable. "Even just one bullet can become deadly if left unattended. What I can do for you here will only be good enough to get you to professional help." Yue said clearly, but with some hesitation. She didn't want to make it sound like she was bossing these people around, only that she was concerned about their health. She's heard plenty of tales from her mother and father about hunters who disregarded "flesh wounds" only to due ingloriously to fever and infection.

As more people arrived, Yue rebuilt her composure. She didn't want to seem like she was panicking, that would be unbecoming of a maid. Sighing, she accepted that ultimately the decision to go to the infirmary was this girl's choice... Though if that was the case, then Yue would have to stay by her side and be ready to treat her for any trouble she might have. Yue couldn't leave the girl alone knowing that she had this wound on her. Suddenly, Yue stepped back and bowed her head towards the group. Stupid stupid stupid! How can you forget something so simple? She hasn't even introduced herself! "Forgive me, I haven't even introduced myself. I am Gaun Yue, I've just arrived to Beacon as one of it's newest hunters.

@SevenStormStyle@PyroDash888@Lugubrious@harinezumikouken@Eklispe

What was that?

Not fear, nor anguish. It was something else in Luke’s eyes. I looked deeply into them and once he returned my gaze after staring at his thumb, I saw it clearly.

I felt a shooting pain in my back, where my wings rested as I stood up from the gurney and stood face to face with Luke.

“What do you mean?”

He probably just likes you.

No. This wasn’t that. I can see it in his eyes, it’s there right now! There’s no abject fear of breaking me, there’s hope. It’s hope and there’s nothing that’s going to stop me from grasping it.

I put my hands on Luke’s shoulders in order to steady myself. Carefully I steady my feet as they rest on the ground. I stare at Luke and it doesn’t even waver, not for a second.

S“I’ll do it.”

I don’t know what it is yet. It doesn’t matter what it is.

S“Tell me what I have to do and it’ll be done.” I felt my legs buckle, but I shot my hand out towards my IV stand. It moved drastically due to it being on wheels but this time I caught myself and didn’t feel the cold tile on my side once more.

I pushed myself to stand tall. Taller even than Luke, taller than Beryl, taller than Gratia and most certainly taller than I had been standing before. I was not going to let this chance at rising once more go by. Luke knew it too, by the look in his eyes. They were steady, as were mine.

It was time.

Bianca Nuit would fly once more and there was not a god damned thing in this world that would stop me from doing so.

Vitoria Dodici, my father, not even myself.

Finally managing to stand back on Luke’s level I felt a tear trickle down my left cheek and swiftly approaching was a second on my right. But I didn’t even pretend to care. I simply stood there in front of Luke awaiting instruction on what would have to be done in order to regain my wings. I felt my bottom lip quiver, but I steadied it. There was not a thing in this world that could slow me down now.

I fucking saw it in Luke’s eyes. And it was going to be mine.

"Let's do it now." I couldn't be more impatient. But now was not the time for courtesy.

Kuhaku Shiro - City of Vale

Shiro ears perked, looking rather surprised that seemingly out of nowhere a girl in a maid's outfit offered her help to treat Sepia's wound. Where had she come from and who exactly was she? Regardless, he was rather impressed when she produced a first aid kit. Curious, he leaned and angled himself to see its contents and was further impressed to see that it was rather well stocked. Just who was this strange girl? Even still, her timing was impeccable. Simply put, it just meant that his friend could get faster treatment. Perfect.

Shiro's ears swiveled to and fro as he listened to the blonde member of Sepia's team explain their situation. Frowning when he heard how the mission wasn't exactly a success and frowning even deeper still when they had quite literally lost a teammate.

"Wait, what?"
Shiro cocked an eyebrow.
"What do you mean one of your teammates is missing in action? What happened? Why-"
A vibration in his pocket alerted him to two messages one after the other.
His thoughts interrupted, he slipped out his Scroll to see one response text from Gren. Something about being on fire. He frowned again, this time at his Scroll. What in the hell was Gren getting himself into now?
Before he could look at the second message, Abel had arrived and Shiro was again distracted. The boy could very easily be tricked and manipulated with how easily his attention span flip-flopped around.
"Oh, s'up boss!"
Shiro said cheerfully, waving at the large human friend of his.
"I was just about to head down to the pizzeria before going to the arcade!"
But, his attention again swapped from one train of thought to the next. Lords have mercy on the train conductor responsible for Shiro's mental processes. The railroads of his mind must've looked like chaotic hell.

Almost throwing his Scroll, Shiro immediately spazzed. Flailing his arms as he spoke animatedly at Sepia.
"W-wait, what? You've been shot?!"
Shiro looked around him, as if he couldn't understand why Sepia was still here and not at the infirmary.
"Lady, you need to do your thing and hurry! She's got to get back to Beacon!" Shiro said, referring to the odd maid girl with the lovely dark skin tone.
"I mean, that's pretty hardcore that you survived being shot and all. Pretty tough of you, actually. But you can't just be sitting around and be strolling around Vale like it's just another weekend!"
It seemed as if the more people were around him, the more hyperactive and energetic the tiger-boy got. In fact, the discovery of Sepia's gunshot wound got him pacing in a circle talking...well, really to himself about why she should immediately get her butt on the next airship back to Beacon. Even though she was in the good hands of the maid girl, it was hard to keep up with what he was exactly and coherently saying. He still hadn't checked what the second text he received was too, but that was obviously forgotten. He hardly noticed when the maid girl began to clean and dress Sepia's wound, still ranting and raving. He ignored the other faunus girl's remark about needing to drink, not exactly approving unless she was of age. Judging from her height and assumed age, she probably wasn't. He already talked to one girl back at the cafeteria about his thoughts on underaged drinking.

What was her name again?
Topaz.
That was it.
Shiro was so lost in his own little world that he didn't catch the maid girl's introduction.
Still going on about...something.

@SevenStormStyle, @Ryonara, @Lugubrious, @Eklispe, @Forsythe

Wow, if that wasn't forward I di—

Silently, hiddenly, I told the twelve-year-old idiot part of my psyche to shut it.

This was serious.

My other hand, formerly buried deep within the confines of my pocket, rose into the forefront of everyone's focus, a closed fist containing the answer.

"I should warn you right now: I'm only 95% sure that this will work. It's actually why I was here to see Priscilla in the first place."

Not that 95% sure wasn't on the higher end of the spectrum for me, but whatever. I had continue with explanations. I may not be the most prim and proper guy, but keeping three ladies waiting was poor form for anyone, especially with one in Bianca's state. Even me.

I opened my hand, revealing a simple thumbtack. In my hands, if I was right, it would be more like a year's worth of surgical tools.

"Long story short, she was..." I grimaced, remembering seeing all that red. "Heavily wounded by some Grimm trying to meet up with our team, enough to take her out of the fight."

I took the tack in one hand, turning the metal point about-face towards the skin of my own finger.

"When I was patching her up so we could get her out of there, though, something weird happened." I continued. "One of her wounds, and it wasn't an easy one to miss when you were there wrapping them all, it..."

I jabbed down, wincing as the spike of pain ran through my nerves, and pulled free a second after.

The wound, presented to everyone and on center stage, released but a drop of blood—

And then vanished right before their eyes, the skin patching itself back together without a trace in the span of perhaps a second.

"It did that." I finished, before launching straight into the next thought. "It healed exactly as my semblance allows me to. It disappeared right out from under me. So I got to thinking about why my regenerative ability got passed over, and that--"

I pointed to the blood on the floor, already beginning to dutifully evaporate itself away.

"--was what I came up with."

If any of them was looking at me like I had grown a few extra heads, I didn't notice, so I defended my argument in case they remembered that they rightfully should have been.

"The moment before I had gone after the scratch, I had accidentally cut myself on the blade I was using to slice up my hoodie. I think that my blood coming in contact, even if barely, with the wound, was what undid it."

I smiled a tad shakily, knowing the sort of stretch it seemed like when you said it out loud. Believe me, my self-consciousness was hollering at me to stop before I tested it, but I continued on, heedless as ever.

"It's the only thing I could think of, anyway. The two were back to back— and neither happened at any other point. I don't think it was a coincidence."

I smirked at myself. I had a chance to look cool here, and I was blowing it.

Typical.

"If you'll let me see your wings for a moment, though, we can put it to bed and know for sure."

We can know if I can help.