Chapter Text
~:2 years later:~
The quiet breeze carries with it the familiar taste of sea salt to her tongue, and the distant sound of the ocean waves was a gentle thrumming in her ears that made sitting here all the easier to deal with. Yang ran her fingers through the smooth grass beneath her, leaning against her hand with one leg bent and the other extended outward.
The Menagerian sun was warm overhead, as living here always tended to be, and Yang took the time to soak it in, let it soothe her muscles and body and the ache in her chest that often flared when she least expected it.
She was at a cliffside that overlooked a valley of jungle trees below, extending outward as if reaching for the sky. And there, sitting at the very end of it…
A stone memorial sat pretty.
A gravestone that read:
“Ruby Rose
Sister, partner, friend.
Hero.
Keep moving forward. ”
Yang drew in a deep breath, eyes roving over the engraved words over and over again. So many times, she was sure that if she ever got amnesia, the only thing she’d remember were these words. A gentle smile tugs at her lips, and if she closed her eyes, she always swore she could smell roses amidst the sea salt and jungle air.
“So, sis,” Yang spoke to the open air. She had known Ruby to do this same exact thing at Summer’s gravestone, and Yang hadn’t understood it at first. But now… Oh now, she understood. (She wishes that she didn’t, cause that’ll mean there would be nobody to mourn and cling to in memories, but she did.) A mildly sardonic curl came to her face as she chuckled, pointing a finger to herself. “From mighty huntress hero to occasional construction worker, that’s me.”
She shifts in her seat, moving to sit cross-legged and resting her hands in her lap, hunching casually, and now that she began talking, it was easier to keep talking. That’s how it always was.
“I know it’s been a while since I came here, so… sorry. But, uh, we’ve been helping to rebuild the places that were destroyed. This long and you’d be surprised how many people still need help. So, in between recovering and just relaxing, we sometimes go out and work.
“Still a few Grimm here and there, but not a lot. The more frequent ones seem weaker too, and the smarter ancient ones are apparently in hiding or something. You can guess as to how many theories have been tossed around since it started,” Yang chuckles to herself, absentmindedly fiddling with her hands to keep herself busy and sane.
Since it started… Perhaps it’d be more accurate to say since it ended.
The war had been seen as a victory to the eyes of the rest of the world- not to Yang and the others, of course. Salem had apparently… disappeared. The last ones to have seen her were the three of them, and even still, they didn’t even know what happened to her. They could hardly bring themselves to even think about those final moments anymore.
25 months and it still wasn’t any easier, that part at least. A few things had become easier to handle, but the pain never went away. Only lessened into something just a tad bit more tolerable.
Regardless, Salem had disappeared, Grimm had also lessened dramatically in numbers, and those that had worked for the devil were locked away, never to see the light of day again. (Yang hardly cared to find out about what happened with those people, but last she heard, she thinks she remembers someone telling her they were set to be executed. She just never learned if it actually happened.)
It was a victory.
...But it still felt like such a terrible defeat.
Not the time. She wasn’t here to fall back into horrible, horrible memories.
She was here to catch her sister up on everything that’s happened.
“Beacon is set to open up in a few months, though I doubt there will be a surge of people wanting to be Huntsmen and Huntresses lining up at the doors… all things considered.” They weren’t in such high demand anymore, after all. “Oscar is excited though. He will officially be the youngest headmaster ever, so he’s pretty stoked.”
And honestly, she was happy for him. Moderately for Ozpin too.
(Because they never gave up…)
Yang pauses again, shifting her legs around more comfortably before perking up. Her fingers tightened around her left hand.
“Oh yeah! Ren and Nora got hitched apparently in the middle of nowhere, they refuse to tell us for some reason. They disappeared for a month without a word and then popped by one day like nothing happened and whaddya know- they’re married,” Yang shakes her head fondly, sitting comfortably into the lighter moments of these past two years. “They didn’t want to make a big deal out of everything, or so they’ve said. I’m still trying to get one of them to crack and tell us the truth, but that’s an ongoing thing. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Yang gave a sly wink before her excited demeanor bled into something softer. Adoring and fond, and her eyes drift down to her hands in her lap. Where her right hand was holding her left…
Directly to the simple gold ring on her finger, looking as though it has always belonged there. (The same shade of gold as her partner’s eyes.)
A grin pulls at her lips as she playfully leans forward again, “But I didn’t bring up marriages for no reason.”
Excitedly, she thrust her hand outward to show off the ring to the open world, pretending her sister was right there to see it.
“Guess who else is getting married? This gal!” Yang points her free thumb to herself, a wide grin to her lips before she settled back, sitting up straighter, proudly stating, “You’re looking at Yang Belladonna Xiao Long… Kind of a mouthful, but it does have a nice ring to it, no?”
And as if called forward by the topic at hand, Yang can just barely hear the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, light and so familiar she almost wants to turn around to greet the love of her life. But, she didn’t, she remains facing forward, and all too soon, there is a warm presence at her back, arms wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her flush against a steadily beating chest. Blake nuzzles lovingly into her hair with a quiet purr, a smile in her voice, and it would be a crime if Yang didn’t reflect it.
“I thought we’d agree you’d just take my last name,” Blake speaks in a quiet tone, dripping with joy and hidden laughter, teasing. Yang breathes out a laugh, glancing as best as she could over her shoulder without disrupting the hug because she quite liked being in Blake’s arms like this.
(In this position, it was so easy to see the amethyst band around Blake’s finger, the same color of Yang’s eyes.)
“You can’t get rid of my Xiao Long blood that easily, light of my life,” Yang smirks playfully, reaching up with her hand and running fingers through Blake’s hair, scratching gently, and Blake let out a tiny sigh of content at that, tilting her head reflexively to press more into her fingers.
Blake chuckles at her words, that husky tone she always has when she’s at peace and full of bliss, and she turns her head toward Yang’s lifted hand, pressing a kiss to whatever skin she could reach (against her forearm). Unfortunately, those arms leave from around her shoulders as Blake shifts over to sit beside her, arms pressed together as they lean instinctively against each other.
Against the grass, their hands linked together, gold and purple rings bumping, and Yang cannot help herself from leaning over to brush her lips against Blake’s cheek, Blake tilting her head so Yang could reach the scar there better.
(Memories and scars, that’s all they had left from that awful night.
Yang knew Blake’s scars as well as her own, had spent countless hours tracing them with her fingers, her lips. And the same could be said for Blake about Yang.)
Blake bumps their noses together with a pleased hum, their eyes meeting before her gold twinkled like the shiniest treasure in the world with mirth.
“Being a Belladonna isn’t so bad,” she gave a subtle shrug, eyes going thoughtful for a moment before she murmurs to herself, “Blake Belladonna Xiao Long… Hmm… It does have a nice ring to it.”
“You see?” Yang laughs, bumping their shoulders together and glancing back toward the memorial. Blake easily leans her head against Yang’s shoulder. “We’ve been engaged for… a while now. Just haven’t gotten around to the actual planning part of it, so we’re technically only fiancés.”
“Speak for yourself, dearest,” Blake smiles tenderly against her shoulder, “You were my wife the moment you said yes. A wedding is just a formality.”
“Don’t sound too excited now,” Yang couldn’t help but snicker, laughing good-naturedly when Blake let out a quiet scoff and attacked Yang’s side with a poke. Yang squirms a bit in response but doesn’t try to move away, enjoying the silence that settled over the two.
Just simply being close to Blake, close enough to feel her breathing, was one of Yang’s favorite past times. (It helped to ease the nightmares and flashbacks. A reminder that despite everything else, Blake was right there beside her.
Right there…
The peaceful mood in the air stutters, a solemn and somber aura taking its place as Yang’s jaws tightened. At her side, Blake gave her the chance to feel those negative emotions instead of pushing them away, signifying that she wasn’t going anywhere by caressing the back of Yang’s hand, fingertips brushing against the ring.
“Anyway… We can’t have our wedding yet because…” Yang chokes for a second, swallowing down the emotions and sending a shaky smile to the gravestone. She forces the words out of her mouth, breathless, “I need you to be my Maid of Honor, Ruby. Can’t do it without you.”
And there is more she wants to say, the entire reason for visiting this gravestone in the first place, but she can’t force the words. Can’t bring herself to hope quite yet.
But Blake is there for her.
“Everybody’s been researching non-stop,” Blake speaks in a low voice, clearing her throat to speak louder, eyes reading the engravings over and over as well. “Especially Oscar and Glynda and Qrow and… They think that you may be out there… Somewhere. Maybe. All this time.”
Alone. Neither Blake nor Yang wants to think about that. The fact that Ruby may be out there, somewhere, was already difficult to stomach without the added guilt of leaving her alone. Again.
(They failed her again-)
Blake’s ears twitch to the sound of more footsteps behind them, but she doesn’t make any indication to move. No action to defend. She merely turns her head just enough to see Weiss walking to stand by them, off to the side of the two on the ground.
Her friend wears silk gloves that reach to the elbow of her left arm, and Blake herself already knew of the permanent damage just hiding beneath it. The burns that needed constant and careful care, and though Weiss indeed had lost a lot of feeling in that arm- and there were instances where it went completely numb for minutes on end- she didn’t let it hold her back with anything.
Currently, that glove-covered hand was clutching at the locket hanging around Weiss’s neck, close to her chest, and Blake and Yang had grown used to seeing her do that. Knew the importance of it.
Weiss kept her eyes at the distant horizon, standing tall as usual and the two on the ground shared a proud and relieved look with one another. (They remembered vividly the first nine or so months after it was over where they feared Weiss would disappear too. The way the girl just began withering away before their very eyes, not caring whether she died or not. Weiss had come a long way.)
“We’re going to look for you, Ruby Rose,” Weiss’s voice shakes on the name of her partner. It always did, but she pushed through, glancing down at the locket and opening it, absentmindedly aware of Blake and Yang helping each other to their feet.
There, sitting as untouched and healthy as ever in the middle of the locket- the last rose petal.
Two years, 25 months in total, and it still has not disappeared.
If anything, they took that as a good sign.
Weiss carefully picks it up between her fingers, holding it in the palm of her hand and speaking to it.
“We’re going to find you.” This time, they would not fail.
“No matter what,” Blake moves over to stand on the other side of Weiss, placing a comforting hand on the smaller girl’s back, giving her a reassuring smile when their eyes meet. Yang steps over to Weiss’s free side, placing a hand ever-so-gently to her left shoulder, ever mindful of the spasms of pain Weiss still had in that place every now and then.
She gave a gentle squeeze, massaging her thumb against it, and Weiss let out a shuddering breath.
“We’ll scour the ends of the earth and back if we have to,” Yang continues, though whether she was saying that for herself, for Blake and Weiss, or for Ruby- she didn’t entirely know. Perhaps to all four of them, a reminder and a vow that they would not give up on Ruby no matter what.
(Maybe they were just torturing themselves with this new mission. Maybe they would find nothing chasing the ghost of the one they could not forget.
Maybe this would set them back even more, after just barely finding their balance again.)
(But if there was a chance, even the barest sliver of one… Well…
They would do their damndest to find it.)
“So, please...” Weiss, ever so slowly and with an air of finality, extends her open palm in front of her as if she was offering a gift to the Gods themselves.
The last remnant of her partner would be the greatest gift of all.
The next incoming breeze makes the single rose flutter a bit- as if it had a mind of its own and it was hesitant to leave just as much as Weiss was terrified of releasing it. After so long of keeping it so close and guarded to her heart.
But it was time to let go.
And move forward.
It is the next gale that makes the petal fly away, and for that first second, Weiss feels the temptation to lunge for it again flare inside of her chest. But Yang is holding her by the shoulder and Blake has a supportive hand on her back, and Weiss knows this was for the best. She wasn’t alone. She had them, and they had her.
Together, the three of them keep their eyes on the single petal for as long as they can before it disappears into the horizon, carried by the winds to a destination unknown.
We’re coming, Ruby.
This time, we will not fail.
Please…
“...Wait for us…”
… … ...
The rose follows the winds.
Spurned on by an irresistible pull, it flies across the continents, through cities and oceans and forests and hills and deserts. Though it gets stuck from time to time, caught by branches or blocked by buildings or flightless without the wind, it does not stop forever.
It keeps moving, always in one direction.
Forward.
It passes by empty valleys filled with forgotten bones of battles best left behind, pass bustling civilizations of people going about their daily lives without the threat of the end of the world hovering over their shoulders, pass the occasional battle between man and Grimm. The Grimm are weaker, struggling, and they run from humanity now. (But searching, searching endlessly they are. For what? No one knows…)
It continues.
Always following the winds, always forward forward forward.
Until it reaches its destination.
It is of a place long forgotten as well, a place traversed by nobody. A sacred land, a holy site; a set of tan staircases covered in dust and ruined by the elements leading up the mountain range to an open canyon.
Where once it had been shining bright with gold and full of hope, it is now covered by a dense fog. The leafless tree sits at the far back, dim without the God taking residence here anymore. It is a haunting shadow amidst the shroud.
The winds stop, the petal sitting at the top of the stairs that would lead downward.
A moment passes, and then another, the gales frightened to enter such forbidden land.
But the journey is not over.
The petal floats again, carried by a zephyr breeze through the thickness of the grey fog, down the stairs and into the valley, toward the pool that sits quiet and still and lifeless at the back. The rose glides down, brushing against the surface of the water, ripples immediately pulsing from where the petal sits and back again.
A fresh breeze comes, picking it up once more- because its journey is not done.
The petal drifts past the rippling pool, a subtle shine glowing from the center bottom of the water. Past the leafless tree, dancing around the branches, grazing the petrified bark. As it goes, color seems to return to the tree, little leaf buds finding a home at the tips of the branches.
The fog, as if blown asunder by the wind, begins to slowly roll away. Inch by inch, the petal on the other side and drifting up the second set of stairs long since hidden by the immense tree leading up another hill.
The mist clears, and there, at the top of the stairs… a single door made of white and ivory wood sits. Untouched and pristine, without a handle and rimmed with gold filigree and runes of a long-forgotten language.
Large, extravagant… and closed.
The winds keep blowing and the petal flies true until it meets the closed door, and alas, the breeze dies down and the world stills. The rose remains there as if glued, a second, two, three.
It begins to vanish, breaking apart to particles of scarlet that disappear as well.
Silence.
(...The world keeps spinning, unbothered. Unaware. Somewhere far, far away; a person takes their last breath, while a baby draws in its first. In another place, a dreadful storm begins, while elsewhere, a drought finally ends. Love is lost and gained. Decisions made and never considered.)
(Far in the corners of Menagerie, three huntresses of war set out on their next quest.)
And then…
The door creaks open, bit by bit until only a sliver is revealed. Darkness sits behind it, before-
Light. Gentle and glowing; weak and fragile, but...
Alive.
Hope is reborn.
...
The journey has ended...
And a new one begins.
…
To be continued…?