@Silvan Haven@Write@HereComesTheSnow@Plank Sinatra



"Not everybody succeeds."

It was pathetically easy for somebody to declare their intention to improve, but the reality was that few could truly act upon that supposed desire, instead choosing to contentedly give up because they were too pussy to continue struggling against the obstacles in their path or laid low by shitty mistakes. If Luke sought to become powerful, he would have to avoid making any fuck-ups, and the question was if he was able to do so.

"So don't fucking disappoint me."

It would be a waste of her fucking time otherwise.

R-Right...

It's obvious in hindsight, but Gratia really did offer up tough love at best, if you could even call it any form of love. Honestly, it felt more like an order than any form of encouragement. We were supposed to be classmates! Peers! Equals!

Well, maybe not equals, but that was the goal, wasn't it? To become somebody who could call himself equal to her and everyone else?

I guess we weren't exactly peers if you looked at it from that perspective...

I'm in despair! My pursuit of my goal ending up suggesting I should let my classmates order me around has left me in despair!

...

Jokes aside, though...

"I don't intend to. That means I'll have disappointed myself, and I do that bit enough already."

I'm pretty sure I was trying to sound cool when I said it, but looking back on it now, it probably sounded a little pathetic. If I wanted to shape up, shouldn't I have started with the impression I gave others? It would have been the logical and smart thing to do.

But as it happened, I was neither logical nor smart, and always rushed my way into things by being who I was.

Maybe I was just hopeless on that front, but if so, I'd just have to excel everywhere else.

"My work is definitely cut out for me." I observed. There wasn't any sense, common sense that even a common guy like myself possessed, in ignoring the grade of climb I was faced with.

But I'd make it there, somehow.

"... Yeah?"

Gren was a bit confused at Sangue's concern. On one hand, it'd only make sense for someone to worry about a guy who fell so hard he broke a table. But since that guy was Gren who regularly blows himself up (FOR SCIENCE!), something like a table meant nothing to him. Well, except that Glynda is probably going to be made at him. How much do tables costs?" Gren peered over to the shattered remains of the lunch table. He made a mental note that if he still wants funding for his projects, he needs to stop breaking school properties. And with that in mind, he came to the slowly dawning horror that he had crashed through so many walls that they're probably looking for him right now. All the more reason to head back to the Emerald Forest to lay low for a bit.

But those thoughts aside, Gren briefly turned his attention back to Shiro. "And you think Geisteel and Siderite is any easier? Geisteel is an alloy you got to import from Llewellyn himself, and Siderite is meteorite iron! I don't even know where I can find Siderite. With Titanite we could just use what we have and improve it further. Cide's, I doubt Beacon has any more interest in an abandoned mine, less so with it's own robots running rampant in there. If anything they ought to thank us for cleaning up that mess. Think of it as... Community service." As for everything else, Gren didn't really have much to say. While he could always give his thoughts, ultimately Shiro needed to do what was best for him. And while he wasn't going to admit it right now, but Gren's mind was a bit more occupied about his own concerns. "Anyways Shiro... You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Gren and Shiro's gaze were both directed towards Sangue's arm. While previously Gren had his mind muddled with thoughts about his Grav Pack/Shiro's upgrades, now his thoughts were on Sangue. Just something about her claw made Gren want to reach out and fix it. It was like a flickering light; it did it's job, but you wish it could do it better. It seemed... Sloppy. Old. Needing to be replaced. Gren needed to work on some other projects if he wanted to find the right inspiration for his Grav Pack, and with Shiro's upgrade and Sangue's claw on the menu, Gren thought he had just what he needed to get his creative juices flowing.

"Sangue, I know this is an odd question for me to ask, but I have to say it before I forget: Have you thought about upgrading your claw?" Right now Gren felt like they were on the same wavelength. He couldn't quite explain it, but he knew almost instinctively that they were all thinking about upgrading something. And it just so happened that the target of that upgrade was Sangue's claw. Gren's only justification to doing this was whimsy; the only justification he needs to do anything. "Yeah... Shiro, what do you think? I'll deal with the mechanics while you forge the parts... Sangue of course would be needed... Yeah... I think it'd work." Gren continued to peer at Sangue's arm, resting his chin in his hand as he continued to ponder the possibilities.

@harinezumikouken@NarayanK

@Silvan Haven@Write@HereComesTheSnow@Plank Sinatra



"Hn."

There was nothing else that Gratia Mindaro needed to add to the conversation. The information offered to her by the other trainee Hunter was adequate for her purposes, and any further continuance of the irrelevant exchange would only prove to be irksome. She had answered Luke's enquiries, and he hers, and that was all that had been necessary. She crossed her arms, onyx gaze detaching itself from the boy's face, with her vision instead moving towards the stairs that led up to the balcony. Quiet, jazzy notes continued to flow from the ship's main hall, dulled by the distance and obstacles between them.

She breathed in the air. She breathed in the scent of the salt, the cold tang of the wind and sea spray.

This was what Bianca sought from the cruise, then? An ennui amongst foolish, foppish fucktards pretend to be great simply because they had cash to spare?

Gratia Mindaro clicked play. Her own songs began to flow into her ears through the headphones.

Bianca had chosen to come, and she herself had unfortunately decided to follow.

~Cafeteria~

It seemed the man was alright. The woman nodded silently- when she fell on a truck, it made her back sore for a moment. Perhaps falling on a table for a man of his size would be absolutely nothing to him...

In response to the tiger Faunus' confusion, Sangue silently fumbled words in her own head before gently shaking her head, answering with a simple "It's... nothing."

When two men stared at her claw. Sangue promptly followed their action, staring at the thing she had been staring at earlier.

While Sangue considered herself to be somewhat decent with handling the Claw, ironically enough, she knew little on what made it function. She had been given the thing long ago as a "toy," according to the man who gave it to her. It initially seemed something like a pointless hunk of metal, but it ended up being one of the only reasons why she lived long despite the lack of her right arm. Another was her blade, but that was a different story unrelated to technology.

She remembered the man who gave her the Claw telling her that configuring the device could help her. Only if she lived for that long, though.

Looking at the Claw now, certain memories crept into her mind. They weren't bad memories, and did a rather good job in reminding her that she needed to keep herself updated to follow her team's steadily increasing experience.

Then the larger of the two men asked if she wanted to upgrade her Claw.

"..."

Looking up at Gren, the redhead blinked for a few moments.

Well...

When the man in her past told her to give the Claw an upgrade, she didn't expect someone to outright ask her.

But the thought was certainly appreciated, for there was probably a high chance that she would just wreck the Claw if she tried to configure it herself. The worst case scenario would be breaking it beyond repair somehow.

She turned back to the Claw.

Then at Gren.

Then at the Claw again, and then at Gren once more.

She remembered being told that remaining silent for too long could annoy others. But they were strangers... weren't they?

But they're my classmates. It... should be fine. Maybe...

She just hoped that she wouldn't anger her team by having people she haven't met too often modify her Claw. While that seemed like a somewhat troubling thought, Sangue decided that the men weren't bad people.

Even if she couldn't understand half of what they were saying in their personal conversation, them helping her... was a good thing... right?

"...I've... been thinking about... improving it," the swordswoman admitted, turning back to her Claw with her idle expression softening. "I don't know... how to, though..."

Yue quickly began to regret her words when Skyra showed off her scars. It's not that Yue was particularly horrified at the scars, and more sadden that Skyra had such a negative opinion about herself. Yue wanted to tell Skyra that she was wrong, that there was nothing unsightly about her. However the words of Yue's mother rang in her head:

"Never contradict your superiors unless they are specifically asking you to challenge their opinions. Whether they're making a bad plan or talking down about themselves, you must always show your support. If you know that what they're doing is going to be self-destructive, then you must be ready to save them when it happens. If they lose hope, you must remind them what they're capable of and their good points. Whatever you do, never contradict what they're saying. If they call themselves ugly, you just tell them that they are wanted. If they call themselves weak, you must tell them they're brave. And until they can trust you, their feelings must take priority over your honesty."

So Yue didn't say anything and let Skyra believe what she wanted. Yue merely looked down and tried not to make eye contact. Fortunately it seemed like the outburst did lighten Skyra's mood, or maybe it was the food. Either way Yue just sort stood off to the side when Krysanthe asked why exactly Yue was here. "I was informed yesterday by Ozpin that I should be staying with Team KESS for now. Since I came to Beacon so late into the school year, they may need some time to find a team for me." Yue didn't make it obvious, but she had a feeling she was suppose to be part of Team KESS. She figured this out simply because their fourth member was no where to be seen. She had met Krysanthe, Sepia, and Skyra, but she doesn't know who the fourth member with the name starting with E. And if she had to guess, Yue never will. Those girls just came back from their mission yesterday, and if their fourth member wasn't here then Yue could guess what happened to that person.

Admittedly, Yue felt somewhat uncomfortably just replacing their fourth member so soon, more so if the rest of the Team doesn't approve. Yue didn't want to feel like she was being forced upon them. Hence why she was trying to get on their good side with breakfast and kind words, with mixed results. Not wanting to make this situation any more awkward than it already was Yue quickly changed the subject. "A-as for me, after you are finished with breakfast, I thought maybe I could tour the school a bit longer. I'd also like to do a bit of training and meeting others too. If you... Need me, feel free to call me. I'll come as soon as I can."

@PyroDash888@SevenStormStyle@Eklispe

A lack of further conversation dominated the breakfast scene between Sapphire and Abel, but he didn't stress it too much, and he felt that the silence suited his teammate just fine, as well. After finishing his food and drink, he inclined his head at Sapphire with a simple, “Have a good day,” and left. His tray and plate, clean except for a few spatters of pear juice, whizzed off down the conveyer into the kitchen, and will visibly more excitement than usual he departed the cafeteria for the locker room. Only pausing there long enough to grab the Ampere before moving on, he made tracks through the hallways, his size and breezy manner causing others to wonder what business the quiet guardian might be up to as they moved out of his path. In a stunning feat of multitasking, he attended to his scroll when its tone informed him of a newly-received message and read it in the go. So, it would be just him and Krystanthe, after all? He felt as though a small weight had been lifted from his shoulders. With groups, he always felt obliged to act differently, but he knew that in one-on-one situations he could be himself. And hopefully, that would be someone that Krysanthe would think well of.

In no time at all, he emerged from a side door into the cheery morning sun and brisk autumn breeze. He stopped for a moment to breath in the air and let the wind ruffle his 'do, reflecting on how much Beacon looked like a castle from the outside. The school truly was, Abel felt, a magical place, and no matter how tough math got or what freaks of nature he faced during missions, he was glad he came. To have met so many people and experienced such an environment filled him with a sort of pride, though he hadn't really done all that much. Sadly -or perhaps, fortunately- this moment of introspection could not last forever, and Abel made a beeline for the Survival classroom. Once past the overgrown, derelict building, it was an almost straight shot through a grove of trees to the cliff that overlooked the Emerald Forest. The guardian did not expect that Krysanthe might be there first, instead fretting that it might be weird to show up to a meeting place so early, but he could not quash the spring in his step as he approached, spear in hand.

Kuhaku Shiro - Beacon Cafeteria

Shiro puffed out his cheeks, pouting when Gren made his arguments. He was right, in truth. But that didn't mean Shiro wanted to hear it. Even still, he was right. Shiro had no words as a counter argument for his friend, so he just crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out at him. When asked if he was thinking along the same lines as his friend, he nodded.

"Yeah, boss. I wouldn't mind sidelining my projects if it means I can help out someone else. But, we'd need her explicit permission first. Not going to tinker and mess around with someone else's things if they didn't ask for it or wanted it in the first place."

Slinking from around Gren, Shiro got right up in Sangue's face and narrowed his eyes at her before standing on the side of her actual arm and lifting it. Poking and prodding parts of her skin and squishing her fingers as he was already starting to take note and make rough measurements. Examining her arm's length and weight, even down to the length of each of her fingers.

"Hmm, I could take some crude measurements with some tape and and weigh it on a scale. But, it would be much easier and produce more accurate results if Beacon had a 3D Scanner."

Turning to Gren as he continued to mess with Sangue's real arm absently, he completely ignored the fact that he was probably invading her personal space. But, to Shiro there was no such thing. He was always a touchy person. Call it the tinkerer in him, but every so often he pondered how he could redesign or reforge something to improve it. Sometimes even going so far as to find things from the Armory to dismantle and break apart to see how it worked and then attempting to put it back together with minor improvements or changes. At least, just the 'junk' items anyways.

"Oi, Gren. Do you know if Beacon has some tech like that? Or maybe you might have some gadget that could do the same thing?"
Shiro said as he lifted and lowered Sangue's arm a few times, a comedic and odd sight to behold. As if she were some lever to pump water..or something.

Looking at her arm as he continued to mess with it, Shiro grinned.
Now he was just having fun fooling around.

"That way, if we were to make you a new arm or something like that, it would be the same size and weight or just about. More natural usage and feel of motion, y'know?"

Shiro laughed.

"It would feel a lot better, y'know? Like you never lost your arm in the first place, for whatever reason."

Shiro's ears twitched when Sangue spoke up, frowning.

"Why do you speak so quietly and weirdly? It makes it hard for us to hear and understand you, and I have great hearing."

Frustrated, Shiro shook his head and cleared out his ears again.

"Say, boss. Since you've been thinking about improving your gear, any features or special thingies you want it to be able to do? While I can't make nuffin' too fancy, Gren here is your man for that. Rockets, flamethrowers, shotguns, bombs. Heck, Gren can turn anything into a gun here. Maybe some super-awesome-giga-mega charged ultra punch or something!"

Finally letting go of Sangue's arm, Shiro balled his hands into fists and shook them excitedly.
The image of Sangue punching clean through a boulder in his imagination was just too awesome to imagine.

Nodding his head Gren continued to ponder and speak. "Right right. If Sangue is okay with it, we could give her a hand." Gren stifled a laugh and continued. "Unfortunately I don't have anything like that. But I think I saw something like that in the science lab. Not sure if we could use it on Sangue, I've only seen it used one weapons and such." Gren wished he had such a thing installed onto his system, but his radar alone took up a large chunk of his data. While his actual brain did most of the memory storing, other functions were reliant on his rather limited datachip his brain is attached to. Now that he thought about it, that could use an upgrade as well. But one thing at a time.

Shiro started to poke and prod Sangue's fleshy bits and barrage her with questions. Rather invasive, not to mention rude. Gren grabbed Shiro by his shirt and gently lifted him back to his side. "Oi oi oi. Let's not poke and prod someone else if they didn't ask for it or wanted it in the first place." Putting the excited cat to his side Gren looked back at Sangue and started guesstimating what he'll need. This wouldn't be the first time he made a mechanical arm, he does it plenty of times himself. He actually had a few spare arms hidden away in case of sever damage, like the time he fought Cobalt. However they were all his size, and Gren had nothing suitable for Sangue. But how hard could it be to scale down?

"Right-o! With Sangue's permission, we could help her. Give her a new arm. Better. Stronger. Faster. It'll take a while of course, and it's going to be a big change. So... If it's alright with you Sangue, would you let us help you?"

@harinezumikouken@NarayanK

~Cafeteria~

The warmth of Shiro's hand caught Sangue's attention as she stared at it. Up and down went her only arm as the man moved it like a lever, though Sangue misunderstood it as some sort of observation made from his part to contemplate on something creative. He did seem to measure it earlier, so perhaps there were different things he needed to keep note of.

Curiosity seemed to fill the white-haired Faunus as he asked her why she was quiet. Although she learnt a good portion of language on her own after she left the wilderness, her tongue had yet to be fully accustomed to speaking native languages. It felt like a daunting task to speak fluently and clearly, for the hostile people she met at her old home did anything but give her a chance to communicate in some way.

By the time she learned how to say her first few words, she unknowingly became repressive with her own thoughts. Everyone she met back in the wilderness shouted things at her- things she never understood in the first place. But it was clear that nobody wanted to hear her say anything, let alone breathe in the same air they occupied.

The time she spent on fighting made up for her terrible communication, but that was nothing to be proud of for the red-haired swordswoman. Hacking through hostile strangers on her own was what she did for most of her life, and what she was only valuable for. She knew that much, so she treated others in the academy with respect, knowing that they had more value than herself.

Sangue opened her mouth to at least explain her odd way of speaking to Shiro. And...

Cough.

Instead, she let out a small cough when something got stuck in her throat. She ended up not answering Shiro, never pointing out how he poked and played around with her arm.

...I'll tell him another time...

At Gren's question on whether the duo could help her or not, the redhead nodded slowly. It was the only response she made at his question, but her expression had noticeably softened as she slowly adapted to their personalities. They were quite a colorful duo.

_{@harinezumikouken@Lucius Cypher}

Krysanthe winced at Skyra obviously taking offense at Yue's comment at the surprise flash which Krysanthe only saw for half a moment before averting her eyes. Of course once dressed and aware of the food proper she seemed to be feeling better and cheerily informed them she had no plans as well as mumbling thanks through a mouthful of food. Well it was the thought that counted right? Yue explained that she would be their new member, though possibly only temporarily. She also expressed a desire to take a tour of the school and Krysanthe got an idea. Krysanthe finished the rest of her food relatively quickly and said, "Well Yue, we're happy to have you around. I think it'd be best if Skyra and Sepia showed you around and taught you the ropes so to speak, get some girl bonding in." she said with a wink. Krysanthe thought it'd probably be better for Skyra to be up and about rather than moping, or lazing, about in the room all day.

"As for me, I have prior plans, though don't hesitate to send me a message if you need me for something." Krysanthe said, adding the last part on hastily, she didn't want to sound as though she was just abandoning them to hang out with someone else, because she was totally not doing that. Having said that Krysanthe stood up "I hope you enjoy your stay at Beacon Yue." She said and left. As always her Sea Legs made an odd sound as she walked casually towards the cliff that overlooked the Emerald Forest. Abel was already there, though that wasn't overly surprisingly. Krysanthe waved at him as she got into conservation range. "Hey Abel, you weren't waiting long I take it?" Seeing that he had brought his weapon as well made Krysanthe feel a little better: She'd off-handedly thought somewhere in the back of her mind that bringing her Sea Legs would be weird but since he'd done it too it clearly wasn't.

How did they set up a second team so fast?

What had started as a somewhat suspect but ultimately harmless encounter at a piano had quickly transformed the teenage soldier's head into a hornet's nest of instincts and teachings. Jer had known being social was part of his cover, and was doing his best to compensate, but keeping conversation up without the constant guidance of one of his more affable teammates was proving difficult. Already, his regular personality was starting to bleed through.

Maybe if the idiots back there knew how to prepare seafood, I wouldn't be so quick to criticize it.

What a mess. Everywhere he looked, Jericho seemed to find another set of eyes on him. Towards the back of the room, he had caught sight of some bedraggled little dweeb (Has he really permed only one single strand of hair? He must be a psychopath.) making eyes at the piano bench and mouthing something under his breath. He disappeared as quickly as he had come, and his wardrobe was so completely unremarkable that an untrained eye would likely have a hard time finding the small fry until he was standing right under you, with a gun to your stomach and that stupid hair tickling the bottom of your chin.

And that was to say nothing of the perimeter guard at the pool, staring wide-eyed through a large glass window that comprised one of the lounge's walls. Newsflash, lady - people aren't submarines. You can't raise periscope and expect someone not to notice. She had only raised the top half of her head from the pool to observe them, but this cruise ship had more lights and song blaring through one portion of the vessel or another than Heaven itself. No one outside was going unnoticed. Is this what espionage training outside of Atlas does to people?

As a child, Jericho had been forcibly coerced into watching Rocky and Bullwinkle every night until he went to sleep counting squirrels. He'd already had his sights on Bastion Academy, training four and five days a week to make the cut into the elite combat school by the winter cut-off date. For a kid like that, there was no greater inspiration to a budding Atlesian specialist than the two Bratva-accented spies that always had to go home to East Atlas explaining why two grown agents had been foiled by a motor-mouthed squirrel and a retarded moose. And this group - or rather, if his suspicions were correct, this full-blown hit squad - reminded him an awful lot of those cartoon characters.

Especially Bianca Badenov over here.

If only I could kill moose and squirrel and young devil!

As much as he wanted to underestimate the dreamy young woman beside him, doing so would be a quick ticket to an early grave, even for a Gold Stripe like Jericho. This entire encounter had the same saccharine vibe that Jer recognized from all of Speer's jury-rigged blind dates, and something about this girl - be it the sudden arrival, the air of sophistication, or the classic manic angel dream girl demeanor - seemed a bit too on the nose. She could be a classic swallow who had watched too many Bond movies. Or she could just be a dreamy girl who had been manipulated into talking to him by the tails.

...Or she could just be an idiot who thought Jer Piper was a total dime that they could forcibly defrost after a few lattes and cuddle seshes. There were plenty of those in Atlas, and Jer - not being a card-carrying member of the secret society of letting girls down easy - had learned the hard way that a girl's skill with a knife was not always contingent on their skill as an assassin.

If Bianca wanted to shank him in the side, this piano bench would be her dream spot - and without a team member there to laugh at him, or at least hold the bourbon Team HJNS kept around as local anesthetic, he had no intention of being disemboweled by a vengeful teenage girl again.

He would have to extract himself.

You're a waiter. You're Jericho the waiter. You have her order. She's got both hands on the piano. Be polite, take it easy, and get up when you can.

...

"--is is new for me."

The waiter blinked. She'd been talking.

"I grew up around girls," Jer replied, looking down at the piano and watching the effortless dance of Bianca's long fingers along the keys. "I'd probably be six feet under if I wasn't at least okay with them. You play that thing pretty well."

"No big deal. The sooner you're on your feet the better, talking to four walls all day isn't any joy believe me. I'll happily lend a hand." Diamond groaned. She managed to stave off boredom yesterday in her own way, but aside form the planned exercise in the evening she had nothing for today.

When the doctor called out to her, she sighed in resignation. "No need for the secrecy, doctor. They're my team they would have to know sooner or later, I might as well get this over with and you can probably explain what happened a lot better than I could." She did wonder how to break this down to her peeps earlier, but now she figured this was as good as any means, considering they were all already there.

Nodding to her, the doctor vanished momentarily before coming back with some tools. Meanwhile Diamond took off her coat and rolled up her sleeve, revealing the deformed appendage. It was the first time she really had a closer look herself, yesterday she paid it no mind as all that was on her mind was food and rest.

She noticed that unlike the drawing on her back which looked like a tattoo and had smooth, regular look, the bluish net on her arm looked like some crystalline growth, making for a jagged vein-like pattern. Brushing her other hand against it, she confirmed the surface of those definitely had a scaly texture to it. Were it not a sign of a crippling injury, Diamond might have actually liked how it looked - she was after all a collector of unique things, and this made her rather unique herself.

The doctor came closer and took a needle: "Tell me if you feel anything." he said and used the tip of the needle to gently tap her skin, form the tips of the fingers up the arm. Dimaond didn't make a beep until he reached as far as the top of her shoulder. Nodding with a grim frown, the doc notified her he would have t take a blood sample as well as a bit of the dust scar, but once more Diamond felt none of it. Then he asked her to copy the movements he indicate with his own arm, something she thankfully had no trouble doing.

Ten minutes later he returned from running the tests to confirm what Diamond already knew. "I am sorry, but miss Frost has suffered some nerve damage in her arm. Fortunately it seems to be limited to sensation, suggesting the most damaged part are the nerve endings. Her motorics are - thus far - unimpaired, save for the hand-eye coordination. The damage was caused by overtaxing the dust implant. When one casts with an implant like this, the dust stored in the nerves actually has to leave the body, meaning that if it does so too fast or in too large an amount, it will have to force it's way through. I'm afraid in either case the damage is permanent."

"However, miss Frost can be counted among the lucky ones, as usually this results in amputated and or shredded limbs. In your case, the dust formed channels, so to speak, through which it can now diffuse away with greater ease - a path of least resistance, if you will - which was alongside the nerves themselves hence the damage. The consolation for you is that you can now cast at the same level without causing yourself any further injury. Beware of going any higher though, as this damage is not necessarily a ceiling." he delivered the truth. "There exists a small chance of the body absorbing the dust over time and regaining proper function, but we are talking of years."

"Well, we expected as much. Thank you, doctor." Diamond sighed, the doctor giving her a nod and moving to the next patient. "Well, now you know what I meant about your wounds healing at least."

And so, that was that.

The conversation, decisively, had ended. It was clear that there was nothing more that could really be said between us, so Gratia did the right thing and broke it off there. Her headphones were back in their usage spot, and were no doubt filling her ears with her own tastes in jazz. Benson, Sade, Armstrong.

People like that.

Not Cruel Angel's Thesis. But, fittingly, it all returned to nothing.

Silence once again. I had a pretty good run going, though, if I had to say so myself. While I'm always rambling on about how terrible I am at everything, even I had to admit that I was on a pretty god run there, compared to previous performances. I'd even managed to glean some knowledge about what she liked, from a girl I was halfway suspicious didn't like anything.

I could even claim two things that she liked I knew about through that conversation.

Jazz and money.

...She should be pretty happy with the cruise then, right?

Well, maybe not. We were more just witnessing money instead of having it...

Maybe the jazz she liked would pop up a lot, though!

"...I should go to bed."

It was the first thing that came to mouth, after being the only thing that really came to mind. I said it under my breath in a mutter to myself, so it wasn't like I expected anyone else to hear it.

Certainly not the stony—no, glacial woman to my right. Our conversation, like I said, was definitely over.

Also, again, headphones.

All it took was a gentle push of my arms off of the railing, and before I knew it I was walking down the stairs and headed back to the room.

Albeit with one stop on the way, near a certain cute submarine. It's like this was Kancolle.

"So, does this count as taking you to the pool?"

After getting so serious with the embodiment of seriousness, I found myself in a quipping mood. If Beryl was willing to put up with me, she was a real saint.

Lauren looked over to Ben incredulously for a second, as if gauging whether or not he was serious. Something about her team captain's attitude must have tipped her off, because her grin returned in short order, accompanied by a fierce pride. Bastille's resident con girl whooped loudly and cracked her knuckles in one stretching motion.

"That's the spirit, Cap!" she exclaimed. "I and I be two of soul! I mean, I knew that from the jump, but goddamn, every now and then you just jog my memory and it's like unnnnnf. Let's go to fuckin' Junior's!"

She was really living the dream here. Cap could whine and complain about her temperament, her noise level, and the definition of consent all he wanted; Lauren knew the truth, though, and the truth was that her team captain was endlessly devoted to her. Even if Lauren needed to square up on some butch dyke who thought that the carjacker was just a pretty face, and even if she couldn't handle it, Cap would be there with two ye olde gats and 300% Aura. She knew he would.

It had been a really long time since she'd had a best friend. Especially one who would grab her ass.

(Pervy Ben Lloyd, whose bishie mind is completely in the gutter, whines about having his ass grabbed - but does it to win fights! Grimy!)

"So what do you normally drink, anyway, Cap? I mean, you came from like, some dusty shithole cornfield, right? They weren't exactly popping bottles every Thursday or anything, yeah?"

@Plank Sinatra

"Wine or whiskey, mostly." Ben answered, casting a grin her way that expressed equal parts amusement and exasperation. Her knowledge of Vale really was limited to whatever stereotypes she cooked up in her head. Not that he had room to talk. Lauren at least had been to some of the other Kingdoms, he'd never left Vale. Everything he knew of the other Kingdoms was just academic. Plus Lauren being Lauren meant that at least some of it was on purpose. She wouldn't be herself if she wasn't eccentric. "Redwood is in Forever Fall, way up north. With what the farmers grew, they were most common. Dad always preferred whiskey, though he kept a few beers around. He said Mom was always the one who liked wine."

"First drink I ever had was a Redwood whiskey. Dad and I shared it the day I finished a weapon good enough to sell by myself, start to finish." The Hunter shook her head, grin widening a little at the memory. He had stuck his hand in his pockets while they walked, heading leisurely towards Junior's club. "I hated it. I drank it, but I hated it. Took a couple years for it to grow on me. I always liked wines."

"Redwood used to make this mead, too. Local variety. They used the red sap from the trees in it. Good stuff. Small town like that, the people who made the drinks were critical. Whole place would go to shit if there was nothing to drink."

The grin on his face died just a little, thinking back to home. He loved Bastille more than anything. They were like family, and they had made Beacon a home. But he missed Redwood. Well, truthfully, he didn't miss Redwood. He regretted the way he left it. He didn't share another drink with his Dad before he left, he didn't know if he'd get to go back to the little house he'd grown up in. The workshop he'd learned to craft weapons in. Ben hadn't spoken with his Dad before he left, not once in the whole week after he qualified to take the entrance exam. It was hard to tell if he'd be allowed back. Or if he'd want to go back.

Not the sort of thoughts for a night out.

"Anyway, wines and whiskeys. What about you, babe?"

A strawberry sorbet. A chilly creamy confectionery crafted from the flesh of fresh fruit. If Gratia Mindaro were to name a single positive to attending this atrocity of a cruise, it would be the presence of the large variety of luxury treats, provided to all the passengers without a cost. The intensely sweet flavour that danced upon her tongue, icy to the tongue, had made sure of that. It was to be expected that this ship would have such high quality food; those wealthy fools needed something to use all that money they shat out of their asses daily on, after all. So for as long as she was trapped on this accursed vessel, she would not waste the opportunity.

The Mistralese teenager had, after a moment of thought, grabbed herself a sorbet before returning once more to the balcony, quietly enjoying the confectionery even as she took in the salty ocean air. Her headphones were still blaring music into her ears, isolating her from the irritating nonsense that seemed to be an ever present quality of the rest of the world. Her food sat comfortably in her hands, and every once in a while she would take a spoonful of the sorbet and deposit it in her mouth.

That was all there was to it.

@HereComesTheSnow@Crimmy@Write@Plank Sinatra

Luke's comment broke through Beryl's highly suspicious and overprotective train of thought. Images of Dodici remnant revenge plots and repeats of Bianca's previous kidnapping were momentarily laid to rest as a swish of her tail turned the otter Faunus around to smile up at her friend.

"It would be hard to do a much better job without going to the actual Beacon pool." She said with a slight giggle. "Although, if you would be OK with it, I would still like to go swimming there with you some time. I tend to go a little stircrazy if I don't find somewhere to swim at least once a week."

As she was speaking, Beryl had swum over to the side of the pool and was now resting her chin and arms on the rim, head tilted slightly to allow her a better view of Luke.

"I'd be hono-- glad to." I caught myself. "How's the water here, though?"

Besides the obvious answer, which for her was "easy to move through". I had to marvel a little with how, even at a relatively stationary position, practically a standstill, she effortlessly slid through the water. Was resistance not a thing to this girl? Even the simple action of turning was a bit of a chore for a guy like me, and I'd learned more than was reasonable about maneuvering in the water over the summer prior.

I suppressed a wince.

Fifty laps on the first day? Why the hell wouldn't that nearly drown me, April?!

Even now, that'd have been rough going!

For Beryl, though, I was sure it'd be something closer to fifty laps around the dorm room at a brisk walk. This was simply the difference between he who was out of his element, and she who was in hers.

So, for tonight, in the interests of keeping myself dry and tired, I'd stay up here, well within my element.

"I think we're all gonna go a little stircrazy in this school, honestly." I replied afterward, seating myself in something similar to the lotus position at the side of the pool. Admittedly less cute than her headtilting lean out onto the edge, but I'm working with myself in the first place, so I could really only manage indian-style without doing something nuts.

And if I did something nuts, I don't think it'd be cute any more.

I happily took my loss in the contest that wasn't even real at all to begin with, and loosed a dry chuckle.

"I mean, I've been here two weeks and I'm already cutting myself, right?"

@HereComesTheSnow@Crimmy@Write@Plank Sinatra

"Mmmmmm, the water feels like it's been sitting uncovered in the sun all day. Nice and warm.

As Luke settled down nearby, Beryl idly twitched her tail a couple times and stretched her legs out behind her. She was almost laying in the water as if it were a bed our couch.

"I don't think it counts as cutting if you heal faster than you can cut." Came her reply, accompanied by it's own languid chuckle.