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bridgyrose · 1 year

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Good morning Bridgy. For the ship ask thingy: Frostbyte? Please have a nice day.

Also, I'm gonna put in a request for the next chapter of either blind or transfer student Weiss while I'm at it, please.

(I didnt forget you. For the shipping asks, Frostbyte is a fun one for me to explore, especially in an au setting where Weiss finds out about Penny before coming to Beacon. I have a couple of ideas regarding this ship that I still havent figured out.)

And for your request:

“I’ll take you both out on a shopping trip in Vale!” Weiss practically yelled as she stepped up onto a chair. “A change of scenery will cheer you up. And we can find a few things to help spruce up the dorm.”

Yang sighed. “We dont exactly have room for anything more in the dorm. Besides, why the sudden interest in Vale now? For the last three weeks you’ve been here, you’ve done nothing but complain about how different it is from Atlas.”

Weiss’s smile dropped for a moment as she stepped down from her chair. “Okay, I want to try to make things right with you. All of you. I know its been rough to deal with me and I-” her voice started to quiet as she continued. “-I… wanted to try to catch some of the visiting students for the Vytal Tournament.”

Yang rolled her eyes. “I knew there was a catch.”

“She has a point though,” Blake spoke up. “We havent exactly had an easy time getting along with her and maybe… going into town might give us a bit of time to get to know each other better.”

Ruby nodded. “And we should start paying attention to who the competition will be for the tournament too. After it was delayed from last year, I’m sure the teams will be different.”

“I’ll make it worth your while too.” Weiss pulled out her scroll and started to thumb through the itinerary she made. “We’ll stop by the weapons shop for Ruby to get her a new scope for her scythe, we’ll stop by the bookstore for you and Blake, and then we can have lunch at the new cafe that opened.”

Yang took a moment to think things over and finally nodded. “Alright, we go to Vale, follow your plan, and that is all we do. Nothing more.”

“I wont let you regret it.” Weiss smiled a bit as she led her team through the halls of Beacon and to the landing area to take the airship back to Vale, starting to relax as she walked. For once, she felt like she could start moving on, start getting to know her teammates and let others in where she was wounded. And yet… she still found herself starting to focus on Blake and the bow she wore. A small fear in the back of her mind started to rear its head around about what could be hiding under it. She shook her head to dismiss the thought, mentally berating herself for even thinking Blake was hiding anything.

“Everything alright, Weiss?” Blake asked. “You’re not having second thoughts spending time with us, are you?”

“No, of course not.” Weiss took her seat on the airship back to Vale, thumbing through her scroll to take her mind off her fears. “A little nervous, I guess, but that’s mostly since its my first time actually exploring Vale. Compared to Atlas, it’ll be like going to the underbelly of Mistral.”

“Vale isnt some crime infested kingdom just because it’s not Atlas,” Yang said with a frown as she sat down. “We get it, Atlas is better, but Vale has its own charm. The sooner you give it a chance, the better it’ll seem to you.”

“And I’m giving it a chance to show me what this kingdom has to offer.”

“And what kind of a chance is that?”

“A chance.” Weiss looked out the window of the airship as it started to take off, making its way over the forest and to the city. She had to admit, Vale had a lot more to offer in the way of scenery outside the kingdom than Atlas did, which was one of the few reasons Atlas made trips to the continent of Anima for training missions near Argus.

Her heart started to thump in her chest as she thought about the last training mission she was on in a forest similar to the Emerald forest, her breathing starting to quicken as time seemed to slow down around her for a brief moment. Weiss gently pressed a hand to the glass in front of her, fingers shaking as she looked down, and then pulling away as her reflection turned into the White Fang member that had captured her. Red hair, horns just above a grimm-like mask, blue eyes that seemed to pierce into her the longer she stared.

Weiss finally snapped out of it as she heard a soft alarm on her scroll, slowly fumbling through her bag for her medication and water bottle that she kept on her. It took a moment for her to open the bottle and dump a couple pills into her hand, shaking as she popped them into her mouth and washed them down with a little water.

“You have anxiety too, huh?” Ruby asked.

“We… we all have our own flaws,” Weiss responded as she started to calm, slowly putting her pills away. “But… yes. Though I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Alright, but just know you’re in good company.”

Not like you’d understand, Weiss thought to herself, keeping her eyes on the window of the airship as it started to make its way over Vale and to the landing pad near the far edge of the city. The first thing she noted that she hadnt noticed before was how much quieter the city seemed to be compared to Atlas or even Mantle. While there were still plenty of cars on the streets, there seemed to be more people out walking than driving. Though, what really caught her eye was seeing one of the SDC dust outlet stores with cops around it.

As the airship landed, Weiss quickly pulled out her scroll and started to get a map app up to plot a course to the dust shop. It was on the way to the weapons shop that she had planned to take Ruby to and figured it’d be worth the look to see what was going on. “We need to take a slight detour. Something personal has come up and I need to check something out.”

Yang sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I thought we agreed to stick to our original plan? Its not like we have a lot of time to be here before the last shuttle back to Beacon-”

“And we’ll be able to make it in time,” Blake said as she put a hand on Yang’s shoulder. “Besides, maybe this will give us a chance to learn more about Weiss. Just like she’s been trying to do for us.”

“It wont take long, just a quick stop to a dust shop and its on the way anyway.” Weiss started to walk down the street, glancing down at her scroll as she led her team to the dust shop. Once the dust shop came into view, she stopped and paused as she saw the damage to it. Windows were shattered, the door had been broken, and all the dust on the shelves had been lifted.

“This is the third dust robbery this week,” one of the cops said to his partner. “No money or weapons taken, just the dust.”

Another cop shrugged and finished taping off the building. “Maybe its a rogue huntsman trying to stock up. Wouldnt be the first time.”

“Or maybe it was the White Fang,” Weiss said under her breath as she started to look up the other shops that were robbed. While none of the witnesses were hurt unless they fought back, the only stores that had been robbed in Vale were those that were in partnership with the SDC. Her blood began to boil as she frowned at her scroll, taking a look at a picture of a figure in the dark of one of the robberies.

“Not everything that goes wrong is the White Fang,” Blake retorted. “All they want is to make things better for faunus and are a bit misguided.”

“They’re a terrorist organization, Blake!” Weiss snapped. “That’s not just a bit misguided.”

“Okay, very misguided.” Blake sighed and looked at the damage to the dust shop, her ears twitching under her bow. “If it was the White Fang, why take only the dust? That isnt exactly something they’ve done before.”

“Because its not about the dust, its about sending a message to my family!” Weiss turned to look at Blake, glaring at her. “The White Fang are monsters. Killers. They’ve done nothing but hurt my family’s company and everyone we consider friends.”

“Maybe if the Schnee Dust Company could quit taking advantage of faunus-”

“We dont take advantage of them! We pay them just like the rest!”

“And they’re the only ones your company ever sends out into the dust mines!”

Weiss frowned. “We send more than just faunus in there. Besides, the White Fang are the ones that take things too far. If it were up to me, I’d put an end to them.”

Ruby quickly rushed between the two, gently pushing them apart. “Weiss, why dont you and I go to the weapons shop and Blake and Yang can go to the bookstore. Then, we can meet up for lunch?”

“Fine,” Weiss huffed as she started to walk off. “Our reservation is at one, dont be late.”

Ruby quickly followed after Weiss. “What exactly was that about?”

“Just putting the blame where it belongs.” Weiss felt her heart start to pound in her chest, her legs shook with each step as she angrily walked. After a few minutes, she found a bench to sit down at and started to fumble around her bag for anything to help her calm down. “The White Fang are a menace to everyone no matter where they’re at.”

“Yeah but… they tend to stick to protesting here. Blake’s right, robbing a dust shop isnt exactly something they do-”

“Its exactly something they’ll do if they’re willing to kill!” Weiss grabbed a stress ball out of her bag and started to squeeze it in rhythm with her breathing, trying to calm herself. “They’re the reason I’m here and not continuing at Atlas.”

Ruby looked at her confused. “I… I dont think I understand.”

Weiss stood up and started walking again, continuing to squeeze her stress ball to take her mind off of everything. “Forget it. Lets salvage our day and get you to the weapons shop. I still owe you a new scope.”

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #transfer student weiss redux au #transfer student weiss redux #drabbles #this is going to get fun

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years

Text

Farmer Jaune #1

AN: here’s a little background for you people, places, or things, I love Stardew Valley... That’s all.

Summary: Jaune takes a bet with his father that if he can get the old family farm up in running he’ll have shown enough dedication to be a huntsman.

Forteen year old Jaune stood in front of ‘The Club’ at lunch time carrying large crate of assorted fruits on his left shoulder for this Junior guy to try, while in his right he played on his scroll while the two bouncers out front refused to let him in.

Sure, he could barge in, but that’d be rude and create a bad impression on a potential buyer. So the stuck up suits could glare at him all they wanted, he’d wait till Junior saw him or picked up his scroll, or they finally let him in.

Huh, who knew Spruce Willis liked to garden, another reason to look to the guy as a man among men.

The two suits kept a steady glare on the boy with bangs covering the his right eye, only leaving a single blue orb to stare at his scroll. He was all lean muscle, tanned skin, and sun-bleached hair package up in a dirt stained tee and blue jeans.

They’re were sure that they could take him, and there were no notices about a fruit shipments, so they were ready to put down a scam-artist if they had too. Though, if he was a scam-artist he really was easy going.

“So, ‘Mr. Arc’,” One of the suits said as sarcastically as possible.

“Just Jaune.” Jaune said boredom, hoping Junior wasn’t messing with him, if he was he’d have to sic dad on him.

The guards snicker. “Ok Just Jaune,” Jaune rolls his single visible eye. “What do you got in the crate?” “Are you mugging me? Because if you are that’s just lame, it’s a crate full of fruit, how poor are you if need to mug a man for fruit? Delicious, juicy fruit sure, but just fruit.” Jaune say rapid-fire without looking up from him scroll.

The suit who spoke up went flush with anger at the insinuation, he worked for the damn mob! He made very good illegal money! He didn’t even recorded it to the irs that’s how bad he was!

Suit two just snickered at his friend. “I think what my buddy meant was what do have in the box to sell to the boss, and why do you think he’d buy from you over importing from Mistral or bulk buying from the Agri-Dis?”

Jaune rolled his eye again. “For the fourth time he asked me to bring him a crate, which I would have delivered to him by now, and gotten some lunch to if you two lumper didn’t get in the way.”

“And for the fourth time your not on the list, so try sell us on your product and we might let you in!” The first suit said exsperated. “Also why not just eat some produce?”

Jaune shrugged. “Same reason, I’m going to refuse to sell any to you two right now, cause I have things called standards. I always include a little extra on the orders so that people know their appreciated! If I took that away, it’d ruin the magic!”

Jaune then said with a smile, “That said if you’re interested, I can give my website to place an order, and little peak of the goods too.” Jaune said wiggling an eyebrow.

The second suit let out a tired sigh, knowing that this would be long day already. “Ok, back to my second question first, why would anyone buy from you some dirty looking kid from outside the city walls, instead of the nice clean stalls at the Agri-Dis? Also, I make good money wouldn’t I just import good food from Mistral or Vacuo?”

“Ok, find you’ve worn me down fine. Ok first, the Agric-Dis’s food is abysmal grown for two thing!” Jaune said putting away his scroll, and then holding up two finger making them glow with the light of his soul, making both guards jump at the realization this boy was also a hunter in training. “Bulk production, and fast regrowth speed, they inject Earth dust into the soil to make it more fertile, and genetically mod the plants so they grow as fast as possible and big as possible with account for taste! Which to be fair isn’t a bad thing, the city is overpopulated as is, and the Agri-Dis needs to feed everyone, and neither dust usage or gene mods are intrinsically bad, just that bulk produce doesn’t always taste as good as growing something with love and care!”

The two suits inched back in shock at Jaunes passionate rant, and the first suit recovered faster and asked. “Alright, you’ve made a good point. But what about outsourcing production to Mistral or Oasis in Vacuo? They’re food is really good!”

Jaune held a finger as he regained his breath.

“Ok, that’s a fair point, Vacuo has a warmer climate than Vale so it’s easier to grow more crop in season there in certain areas, and Mistral has the same benefit, but, it’s not the food that bad but the prices, and time you have to wait in between shipments.”

The suits leaned in with interest.

“This also has a couple problems, compared to my products.” Jaune holding up his free hand, letting it glow freely to attract the suits attention. “First, is the price you’d paying is roughly three time as much as my own for virtually the same product.” Jaune said slowly and methodically, letting it sink into the mens minds, he’d never let a potential customer get away, even if they were goons.

“Second is bidding, when you order from out of kingdom your have to compete with everyone else who wants that food, which also is reason the price is higher they can afford to hike it because it’s in demand, so since it’s in demand that means people want it, which implies scarcity, so even if you place an order there no garuntee that they’ll have any left for you.“ “I never thought of that way when I saw the restock sign...” “Most people don’t, in fact most people don’t care about the quality of the food long as it’s good and edible. So like I said limited supply, right? Well, right now I have tons of food to sell, I won’t be running out either,” Jaune said with a smirk, “but for how long? Anyway, another problem if your foods coming from outside the kingdom means that it’s coming outside the kingdom, this is two probelm. One, you’re weakening the local market, while strengthening foreign market, and you don’t want freaking Vacuo to be stronger than Vale in anyway right?” Jaune asked slyly.

“No..”

“The other problems with outsourcing from out of kingdom, is the shorter shelf lift, shipping takes time, you know this, you’re smart guys right?”Jaune asked the men, who quickly nodded. “Well, you should know that caravans only come so often, there could be month in-between you ordering your product and actually getting it! So your food could be moldy and black!”

The suits looked at each other, remembering the bosses fits of rage about a ruined order of fruit, and their own bad experiences with outsourcing. Conveinently forgeting this only happened once or twice, out of the hundreds of times they’ve ordered.

Jaune continued, “The final problem is it’s outside the kingdom anything can happen! Bandits, grimm, White Fang, Then Bam!” Jaune punctuating by slamming his hand against the crate. “You just lost three hundred lien by ordering from freaking Vacuo, what the hell you’d expect from ordering from those them, it’s all gone now! And it’s all your fault from ordering from Vacuo!” Jaune said quickly, and almost out of breath.

The men scowled at the idea of letting Vacuo pull a fast one on proud Valemen like themselves.

“Now, on the other hand my produce is loved and cared for only a mere half hour away in hunter protected settlement of Stardew Valley. Barring in-climate weather, or Grimm, I will have your product, if it’s ready for shipping out, to you within a week or you get the shipping free! Bam!” Jaune slammed his hand on the box again. “You just cut your grocery bill by a two-thirds!”

Silence then filled the gap again.

“So, did I answer you gentlemen’s questions?” Jaune asked with a slightly sore throat.

“I think I’ll be taking a look at your scrollsite later today,” The second suit said, then smiles thinly. “I just hope you’re not exaggerating, but regardless you got me rethinking my spending habits!”

The men and boy let out a little chuckle.

“Alright how about I let you two see what it’s in the crate to see proof of product.” Jaune said easing the crate on two the ground, easily being twice as wide as his waist, and coming up to his torso.

The men gave a shrug.

Jaune undid the latch on the crate and opened it up, assulting the men with sweet, starchy, and delcious smells of produce, their mouths involuntarily starting to water at the sight of fresh cherries, ripe melons, golden-yellow corn, full and juicy blackberries, tart and sweet blueberries, the spicy red hot peppers, ripe to bursting tomatos, and the most robust coffee they’ve ever smelt.

Jaune then slammed the lid closed a minute later, and put the crate onto his shoulder.

“Arc! What are you doing here? I told you to meet me at noon, and I’d meet you at the Club, not for you to wait for me outside the Club for an hour.”

“Dad say “If you’re early you’re on time, if you’re on time you’re late, if you’re late, everybody’s dead and you’ve lost your huntsman license.”

“Whatever, just follow me in, and we’ll hash out the deal today.” Junior looked at his men. “I’m not mad, you did well.”

“I’m not mad either, just bored.” Jaune said slipping in.

.....

“So, you wanna go half in, on a order?” “Why not? All that talking got me hungry.”

#Jaune Arc #Farmer Jaune AU #I have no idea about economics #I just typed what ever to feel smart #I have no regrets.#Junior #Stardew Valley

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littlemisssquiggles · 6 years

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Hey squiggle meister. What're your thoughts on the flood of people on YouTube who are constantly ranting about the series. And how it's dead after Monty died, and how it's so much worst than before. Etc etc

Tobe honest with you Key, I really don't want to answer this question.I mean it's alright that you asked and I'm going to answer you however I'mgetting a strange sense of deja vu here. Wasn't it not too long ago that youasked me to give my opinion on a similar condition that was happening pre-V6?

Thiswas the issue back then and yet here we are again. You may wanna grab yourselfa snack and settle in because this is going to be one long response post. Let’s just say,this squiggle meister had a lot to let off her chest regarding this particulartopic in the FNDM:

Ihave actually had a small listen to some of these critiques on YouTube and toput it bluntly, I couldn't bring myself to finish most of them. I am a RWBY fan whoalways advocates respecting each other’s opinions regardless of whether or notwe share the same sentiments about the series. I am also a RWBY fan whounderstands that the series is not a flawless show and has suffered more than its fairshare of shortcomings throughout its last arc trilogy.

Nevertheless, in spiteof this, I’ve also acknowledged some noteworthy improvements in the quality of the show that honestly deserves more praise.As someone who has been with this series since its humble beginnings, I have beenthere for each transformation the show has undergone and in doing so, I haveseen RWBY evolve.

Whilesome of the show’s changes haven’t entirely been welcomed by its fandom (withits main change being something completely out of the showrunners’ control) I’dbe lying if I said these changes didn’t contribute to the show’s success insome shape or form.

Speakingfor myself, initially RWBY earned my attention because, like most RWBY stans, Iwas a fan of Monty Oum before and when I discovered that he had his own seriesproduced by RoosterTeeth, I was interested. I didn’t care what the story wasabout or what it looked like. All that mattered to be me back then was that itwas something from the creative mind of Monty Oum so I expected somethingepically action-packed.

At the start, I joinedthe RWBY fandom becauseof Monty however as the seriesprogressed, my reasoning for sticking with it and staying loyal to the showtranscended my past loyalty to the franchise as a by-product of anartist/animator I admired so much.

Thisbrings me to my main point. You want my honest thoughts onthe YouTube RWBY Rants, Key? To be frank, I’m tired of it. It is exhausting listeningto the tirades of these proclaimed RWBY YouTube reviewers who do nothing butgripe and express their disdain for everything the show does wrong according totheir standards. I am so fed up of seeing this happen time and time again.

Andwhat’s sad is that I don’t think part of this is even due to the show or theCRWBY’s fault. Do you know you are more likely to find a video shitting on RWBYas opposed to one that genuinely outlines its positive elements or at leastpresents a fair and just constructive argument of the good and bad of the show?Do you know how many RWBY hate videos the YouTube algorithm has recommended to mesince V6 concluded? It’s ridiculous.

ButI also know I can’t do anything to stop it. So long as RWBY exists, there willalways be these so-called ---I guess we can call them the ‘hate parade’ type of fans who wait like vultures to a carcass to pick apartthe show whenever a new season comes out.

Anddo you know what the sadder part about watching these videos is?

Thesevideos try to give the allusion thatthey are coming from a practical standpoint---as if the things they’repointing out in their reviews are genuine problems with theshow and that their personal advice to the showrunners are valid enough torectify these problems they indicated about RWBY.

Herein, lies my personal peeve with these types of reviews. The best kind of criticto me is one who can point out a flaw in something, justify why they believesaid thing is a clear flaw and then use their own understanding to outlinetheir concept for a possible solution to that flaw that they respectfully leaveopen to the creators of said property to take their advice or not.

However,this is not the case with these YouTube RWBY Rants; at least from the few I’veviewed. I’ll admit, there are some genuinely good RWBY Reviewers on YouTube. Ofthe top of my head, Thatkaitodan, MurderofBirds are two and believeit or not, I actually like some of EruptionFang’s reviews from time to time. Imay not always agree 100% with everything he says in his breakdowns but in myopinion, I can’t get too mad at the things he says in his reviews/video essaysbecause he’s able to justify it in a manner that I’m able to see where he’scoming from. Even if that justification comes from a place of unbridled rage.Referring to EF, I know he’s been receiving flak from FNDM members regardinghis recent views on Adam’s conclusion and Bumblebee; however if I’m beingcompletely honest here, I feel some of that bashing is unwarranted.

Inall fairness to EF, at least I’m able stomach his opinions a lot better than thatof other RWBY Youtubers. As I said, EF is able to properly defend his pointswell enough for me to grasp the validity of his statements which is the least Ican say for some of the others I’ve listened to.

Oftenat times, on the adverse side of RWBY YouTube, I find myself listening toYoutubers who spend more time outright bashing everypersonal gripe they have with the show as opposed to presenting a good argumentthan gives hindsight to why these problems are such an issue to them.

Theworst kind are the ones where this Youtubers point out flaws in the show andtry to give solutions to what the showrunners can do to fix these problems. Butmost of the time it’s done so rudely that it comes off more obnoxious thanhelpful. As if these Youtubers are proclaiming to know and understand moreabout the animation production process than the actual people running the showwho have the qualifications and past industry experience

I’llgive you two examples. Not naming names but I recently watched two videos fromtwo RWBY Youtubers---one critiquing the shows character designs while anotherwas a Youtuber’s final video explaining why they were quitting the RWBY FNDMfor good.

Inthe characterdesign critique, the individualexpressed their disappointment in the recent designs for the RWBY girls and thevillains as of the Mistral Arc. They then proceeded to offer their own tips for how the show could have helped to spruce up someof these designs. However rather than attempting to make their own alternatedesigns to the character outfits, this Youtuber just slapped some rather poorlylaid out flat base colours on top of screenshots of the characters in question.Which from a digital art perspective is…admittedly…lazy.

Iunderstand that not everyone in the world is a designer, much less is a characterdesigner or at least knows how to draw. However…if that is the case then whyare you, as the individual who clearly doesn’t appear to have the design skills,commenting on the work of a studio with a full production team of artists whodo have those required skills and experience and can probably rationalize theirreasons for going with the final designs presented in the show. You get whatI’m saying?

Ifone is going to critique the show’s overall character design then the least youcan do is make the effort to back up your claims. Illustrate your own designsfor RWBY character outfits. Create a mock-up 2D/3D screenshot illustration withproper lighting and atmosphere to see how your design ideas holds up againstthose elements of a scene and then compare that to the actual show’s productionwork. This reviewer didn’t even bother to attempt to maketheir own original designs or even redraw the current designs in their ownstyle and test out their suggested colourpalettes to see if it would fit with the overall design aesthetic of thecharacter.

Youmight be asking now: But Squiggles are you saying I need to know how to draw tocomment about RWBY?

To which I say: No.Being an artist is not a requirement that you as a fan need to really have inorder to comment about something you love. HOWEVER, if you are the type of individualwho has the massive chops to try and dictate a production studio with a team ofeducated and/or industry seasoned artists on how they should handle designingtheir characters without you yourself having the design knowledge to supportyour critiques then… you wonder why the CRWBY often get upset with these typesof fans and don’t take their comments seriously?

Contraryto what others might say, I am not a believer that RWBY is dictated by thedesires of its fandom community. That’s a comment I’ve been hearing buzzingabout since V6 ironically in the face of the recent hate crowd to gather fromwhat transpired with the Bumblebee pairing in the recent season.

Iunderstand that there are fans making the argument that the showrunners onlymade this pairing canon because its popular with its shipping community. Thesame can be said about Neo’s return to become Cinder’s protégé.

Admittedlywhile I might find the CRWBY’s decisions to be questionable at times, this still doesn’t prove that they are run by theirFNDM. If something happens in the show, it’s because it’s something theshowrunners and has wanted to do for some time and picked that current volumeto do so. The mere fact that that thing just so happened to correlate withsomething the fans wanted to see is just a matter of coincidence.

Thatbeing said, I will admit that I’ve noticed one or two members of the CRWBY castwho are guilty of encouraging certain ideas without the show itself officially confirming it in its narrative as yet.

In light of that, Iwill admit this. Regardless of whether or not you as a member of the CRWBY teamsupport a particular ship with all your heart, if other fandoms have taught meanything is that as a cast member you should NEVER encourage anything within yourown fan community. It never ends well and I’m seeing this repeated in RWBY. Butthis is not what I’m here to talk about right now. Moving on.

Inrespect to the video from the individual who was leaving the FNDM, I actually didn’tfinish watching their video because the instant they mentioned Monty Oum and their disdain for the CRWBY not living up to hislegacy and all that stuff, I couldn’t.

Ahyes, the classic ‘RWBY Animation hasn’t been the best since Monty passed away and the RWBYAnimation team are terrible because they can’t replicate Monty’s animation’ debate.How many times is this dead horse going to be beaten? According to this RWBY Youtuber, ‘replicatingMonty’s style of animation is easy andit is appalling the RWBY Animation Team can’t replicate Monty’s style afterfour seasons’.

Thiscomment not only annoyed me as a fan but also as someone who has studiedanimation before. Again, how many times will this poor dead horse be dug up tobe bludgeoned? Will these fans everallow Monty’s name to rest peacefully without bringing it up to tarnish theefforts made by the CRWBY to finish the story he started with them?

Iget it. MontyOum was a good animator.He wasn’t the best animator. He wasn’t some genius animation prodigy. He was a creative mind who had his own way of thinking and doing things andfrom that, he established a style about hisanimation that shined through his work. If you were to show me an animatedpiece done by Monty and the same piece animated by another person, I caninstantly tell you which one is Monty’s because Monty had his own style.

That’sthe appeal of Monty’s work, on my opinion. That’s what he became known for by hisfans. However, even though Monty was great at animating fight scenes, his way---hisstyle is NOT the only wayto animate a fight.

Recently,I took the time to go back and count the number of fights that happened overthe volumes. I did this because as of V6, I couldn’t help but feel as if theCRWBY might be shying away including moments where the characters areactually engaged in combat. I omitted the character shorts because onemandatory element of the Character Shorts is a fight scene. I just wanted tohighlight the individual seasons alone.

Someof this numbers might be a little iffy depending on what I counted as a fight,but here’s what I gathered.

THE VALE TRILOGY

RWBY V1C1:2C2:0C3:0C4:0C5:0C6:3C7:0C8:2C9:0C10:1C11:1C12:0C13:0C14:1C15:0C16:2

Totalfights = 12 Fights

RWBY V2:C1:1C2:0C3:0C4:1C5:3C6:0C7:1C8:0C9:4C10:0C11:4C12:4

TotalFights= 18 Fights

RWBY V3:C1:1C2:2C3:1C4:1C5:2C6:1C7:1C8:0C9:1C10:2C11:2C12:2

TotalFights = 16 Fights

THE MISTRALTRILOGY

RWBY V4:C1:1C2:0C3:1C4:0C5:0C6:1C7:1C8:0C9:2C10:0C11:0C12:1

TotalFights = 7 Fights

RWBY V5C1:0C2:1C3:0C4:2C5:0C6:0C7:0C8:0C9:1C10:3C11:5C12:1C13:1C14:0

TotalFights = 14 Fights

RWBY V6:C1:3C2:0C3:0C4:0C5:1C6:0C7:1C8:0C9:0C10:1C11:3C12:1C13:0

TotalFights = 10 Fights

Why I bring this upis throughout V4 and V6’s runtime I’ve seen one or two all-stars inthe new CRWBY animation team. While not all the fight scenes from the MistralArc were the best, there were definitely some good ones that I stood out to me.

OneV4 fight that keeps being overly praised is the Tyrian vs. Qrow dual. Many fanstend to vouch that fight as the best fight of V4. The only reason that fight isso popular is because it was one of the more important fights of thatrespective season.

However,I’m being completely honest, the Qrow vs. Tyrian one on one was good but itwasn’t the only good fight of V4.

PersonallyI took enjoyment in the small sparring match between Yang and Tai Yang.Believe it or not, I felt like that moment, though small, was well animated andI’d actually give props to the animator behind that small scene. There was a nicesense of rhythm to that small fight that I quite liked.

Notmany folks will agree with little ole me regarding that scene but this just goesto show, we all have our own personal preferences with what we consider to be agood fight sequence vs a not so good one.

Often at times, Ifeel really sorry for the series animators cherry picked to handle the combatmoments for the current seasons because I feel like those animators suffer the most pressure and scrutiny in the eyes of the FNDM. I feel like some FNDM members are sofocused on nagging atthe current CRWBY to capture Monty’s old style of animating fights that they aren’t really giving these new animatorswith their own styles a fair chance toshine outside of Monty’s shadow.

Again.I get it. RWBY was Monty’s brainchild. He’s the creator andno matter how far the current CRWBY takes the series, he will always becredited as its creator.

HoweverRWBY has come a long way since Monty’s days. The show haschanged.The overall look and visual style of the series has changed.Even the production pipeline and the software used to animate the series has changed.The CRWBY hasgrown allowing a greater mix of artistslending their talents to breathe life into the series.

Butwhat seems to kind of still be stuck in the past are some members of the FNDMcommunity. The ones who only watch the show because they are waiting to see thecurrent RWBY recapture that essence of Monty thatthey claimed the show lost after he died.

RWBY is dead after Monty passed away? In some ways, this isboth true and false. The truth is that RWBY did die. The old style that the show was being produced on was laid to restafter its creator unfortunately passed. The false is that RWBY didn’t end withMonty because it’s being continued in its current new style by the people whohelped bring it to life in the first place alongside Monty. The same people whoare diligently carrying on Monty’s project in his place. RWBY isn’t dead. It’sstill breathing. Still going. Because a story still needs to be told.

Ratherthan being judged for how well they can interpret a good fight sequence, theseanimators are judged for how well they can replicate Monty’s style. And when theseanimators don’t live up to that expectation, that’s when the shit storm begins.I myself have been found guilty of comparing the past animation to the present.However now I realized that I was wrong in doing that.

Ithink it’s high time some of these fans let go of the past and accept that theaction fight scenes of RWBY are never going to reflect Monty’s style anymore.

Montyis unfortunately not around to guide the current team with this. And they are doingtheir best to find their own style. To some extent, they found it in V6 becausethe fights in this last season were a tremendous improvement from V4 and V5.

Ifeel like there are some genuinely talented animators workingnow on RWBY who know how to create and sell a great fight and if left to theirown devices, they could really dazzle the audience with their own way of doingthings. I feel like since V4, the CRWBY have been experimenting with how they craftout their fights especially in the new Maya pipeline but it wasn’t until V6where I feel they finally found their footing again.

I think most fanscould agree that the fights in V6 were much better compared to theirpredecessors. One of the best one on one fights was the Neo vs Cinder clash. Whoever was the animator responsible for thatscene should honestly be given more opportunities like thatwhere their work can shine through because that fight was well done. Thesame can be said for the Maria vs. Tok oneon one fight despite how short it was. But the thing is, none of those fightsfelt like Monty’s style to me. It didn’t feel like someone was trying to copyMonty but rather it was someone who probably took a little inspiration Monty’soriginal work and the rest was them bringing their own unique spin to it.

Ifthe CRWBY have been trying to replicatethat Monty style in their fights for the past arc then I’m starting to thinkthat that is what’s been holding them back ratherthan aiding them to move forward.

Thisis why I find the whole point about replicating Monty’s style being easy to be ludicrous. Replicating someone else’s style,depending on the medium is not something you can just do on a fly. It’s noteven something you can perfect in a matter of years. It’s something that takes adeep understanding of the art form you’re using (in this case being animation),time, strict discipline and most importantly of all, guidance and critique from theperson who’s style your copying or someone else who is a master of said style and/orhas a great understanding of it themselves.

That’swhy sometimes you might hear behind the scenes tales about animation studiostaking sometime during their production pipeline to train theiranimators on the style or quality of animation they are trying to emulate in acurrent project. DidMonty do that with the CRWBY? Did Montyget the chance to pass his knowledge and technique onto otheranimators? Did Monty even get to see his story grow to what it is now?

Sadly,no. Monty was a creator who didn’t evenlive long enough to see his own idea flourish for the six seasons it’s beenrunning; now moving onto its seventh season. As far as I know, Monty passedaway as early as V2. Most people don’t even get the chance to see their ideascome to life but Monty was among those fortunate few who was given the shot tomake his idea a reality.

RoosterTeethgave Monty that chance after he worked with them on some of their otherprojects like RvB. He had made himself a household name within their companyand among that, he had made friends and had formed an in-house family with thecolleagues he worked with both on RvB and RWBY.

Saywhat you will about RoosterTeeth and the CRWBY. The original CRWBY who workedwith Monty between V1 and V2 were the people who knew Montythe most. They were his friends. His family. This is all the more reason why itdoesn’t give us, as fans looking in from the outside, the right to use Monty’sname to disrespect the people who knew him better.

Imay not always like what the CRWBY Writers do with the story but I respect themboth as writers. I respect Miles and Kerry because they are the showrunners. RWBY’s plotstarted with Monty, Miles and Kerry.

TheRWBY hate parade need to stop acting as if RWBY was made by Monty alone.Monty did not make RWBY by himself. Shit, he didn’t even create the plot byhimself.

Montyis credited as its creator because RWBY was his brain child and he will foreverbe remembered as the man who conceptualized this idea. But Monty did not writethe story of RWBY himself. He wrote this story with Miles and Kerry.

Whatfolks seems to be misunderstanding or downrightneglecting is that Miles and Kerryhave been with RWBY since its start. They are the two people who worked withMonty in developing the story of RWBY

Itis depressing that Monty only got to live long enough to see two seasons of hisbrainchild come to life.

Insteadof honouring Monty’s legacy by showing support to the people who worked with himto make RWBY happen, folks instead use Monty’s name to slander the CRWBY.

Tothe people who are guilty of this, how can you call yourself a fan? Howcan you call yourself decent human beings witha legit conscience by using a dead man’s name to disrespect the people who werehis colleagues and friends just because you were displeased with something theychose for the show? How is mouthing off the CRWBY and claiming that Montywouldn’t have consented to the direction they’re taking RWBY in a definition ofyour loyalty to Monty?

Howwould you know what Monty would have consented to? How would you know whatMonty would have wanted in general?

Didyou know him personally? I doubt any of you did. So why claim that in yourhateful comments?

RWBYis not the Monty Oum show. I've mentioned this before and I will say it again. RWBY is acollaborative effort. Monty may have conceived RWBY on his own buthe birthed this series through cooperation with RoosterTeeth and the talentedpeople who formed the creative team that made this show with him.

Andit’s those same people who are busting their asses volume after volume to keepthe show going. The CRWBY could have easily cancelled RWBYafter V2. It’s not the first time RoosterTeeth has cancelled a series undertheir name. They could have hung up the towel after V2 and called it quits. Butthey didn’t because they wanted tocontinue the show. They wanted to keep moving forward and finish the story theymade together with their friend Monty.

RWBY’sproduction takes time,thought, passion and effort. If the RWBY YouTube Critics community wishto be the type of people who want to tell the showrunners how to properlyhandle their IP, then at least back up your points with the same level of time,thought, passion and effort that is put into the show.

Andbefore anyone jumps at me and is all like, Squiggles, do you know how long it takes to makea YouTube video essay on my own time? To which I answer with, do you know howlong it takes to produce a full season of an animated production on a studiobudget and a strict deadline within a studio that is juggling multiple IPs?

Anyone can point out a flaw insomething or rather what they perceive to be a flaw in something. But it takes morework to point out that flaw, justify why it’s a flaw by your standards and thentake the time to suggest how it could be improved while throwing in your own workto help boast your claims. But no RWBY Youtuber Critics, at least from the onesI’ve seen, wants to do that. They just want to run their mouths and what’sunfortunate is that they will gather an audience of individuals who do the samewhen it comes to the series.

It’salright if you give your opinion but where it crosses a line is when a fantries to tell the showrunners how they should run their show. It’s even worsewhen they try to do it WITHOUT backing up their claims. You want to downplaythe effort and thought that someone else made without producing your own toargue against theirs?

You want totell the CRWBY how they should write the show? Where are your own retellingsof the show? Where are your own plot breakdowns? Your own scripts possibly accompaniedby storyboards and/or animatics to give others a taste of how your ideas wouldplay out?

You want totell the CRWBY that their character designs are terrible and need rework? Where your own conceptsheets containing dozens about dozens of drafts of redesigns that could betaken?

You want totell the CRWBY that their animation is terrible, that animating like Monty iseasy and the animation of CRWBY would look 100x better if they did x, y, z and123?

WellSkippy, why don’t you prove it? Where is your rendered animation that youpersonally modelled, rigged, textured and animated in your own spare time to backup your proclaimed assessments.

Youmight be telling yourselves, Squiggles why do all of that? That sounds like a whole lotof extra work just to prove points for a critique where I’m trying to tell theCRWBY what to do?

Towhich my response will be, EXACTLY.

Ifthe RWBY Hate Parade wish to make a mockery of the extra efforts the CRWBYmembers put into RWBY, then where is their extra effort? If they at least dothat then maybe I can respect them a little more as people who know whatthey’re talking about because they have the skills and knowledge to back uptheir arguments.

But how am I as the outsider listening in on some of theseYouTube rants supposed to take any of these people seriously when all they’redoing is making lengthy diatribes slandering the work of others and trying topass off as someone who knows more about animation and how it’s done thansomeone who does.

Dothese fans believe that makes them seem witty?It doesn’t. It makes them seem very disrespectful.

Idon’t understand the fans that are like this and I’m not sure if I want tounderstand. I don’t even wish to discuss them furthermore because at the end ofthe day, I can’t speak for these fans. I can only speak for myself and I knowwhere I stand as a fan of RWBY. If there is one advice I can give to my fellow FNDMfam is that weneed to stop drawing attention to the hate parade. Too often do Ihear more about the negative side of the RWBY community and their opinions ofthe series than the actual good that show and its FNDM has spawned.

Weas the people who still love RWBY and are willing to accept and stand by it andits showrunners, flaws and all, need to become more vocal aboutshedding light on the positives of RWBY

Eitherthat or just ignorethe haters. Seriously, we need to stop giving these guys anaudience. Similar to how the RWBY Hate Parade spend their time mostly pointingout the negative in the show, we the FNDM often at times draw too much attentionto these folks.

Ina sad way, we’re kind of sending traffic over to them. Giving them moreattention that they don’t deserve.

Thesetypes of fans can talk but we don’t need to listen to them. Because for all theflak they give the series and its showrunners, the RWBY train is still moving;strong and unaffected.

Why?Because I’d like to believe the CRWBY don’t pay attention to the hate paradebut more focus on what they wish to do with the series while looking out to thesmiling fans who help spread good word about their show. And really, isn’t thegood still that’s very much there all that really matters?

Soto conclude finally, this answer took me way too long to write. Sorry to haveyou wait so long Key. This answer took me some time to put together. Apologiesif it’s a very long-winded answer. I really don’t like discussing any negativestuff in the FNDM.

I acknowledge that it exists and it’s pretty much alwaysgoing to be there but that doesn’t mean I should give it any attention. But forwhat it’s worth, I hope I said enough to make my full peace with this topic.Cheerios!

~LittleMissSquiggles(2019)

#squiggles answers: rwby #rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #monty oum #crwby #roosterteeth #keyenuta

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ironclawallosaur · 2 years

Text

Reconnection: Part 1

Days passed. Hiirkaen adapted. It wasn’t too hard to move, even keeping the control-split that came naturally—she could feel her sister’s legs as they shifted, and she presumed Keaia could likewise. By the end of the first day they could walk, if somewhat unevenly, down to the stream and waded without the water knocking them over, to snag fish with their teeth. By the end of the second, they could coordinate a swipe with the forelimbs to beach a larger fish. They explored other foods, hunting the local squirrels, and experimenting with the fact that various plants and insects were now viable options for foraging.

A few days later, they managed to get airborne. To Hiirkaen’s surprise, it was easier to fly in unison than walk. Their shared wingspan was large, their muscles surprisingly strong, and with two minds to manage the details of membrane configuration and tail positioning, they were agile too.

We might not have crashed, she thought, if we had this back then.

By the time the Mistral Jamboree arrived, heralded by ribbon-bedecked dragons passing here and there high overhead, they were beginning to seek combat… and that only highlighted the gulf between them.

United in body they might be, but Hiirkaen felt further from her sister than she ever had. They barely spoke, even when coordinating their new movements, and then it seemed it always descended into a fight. Fights that ended, inevitably, with Keaia bowing her head and looking away.

There was no returning to the clan in that state. Hiirkaen stayed in the border forests throughout the festival, ducking whenever a clan-member came by on patrol—and they did seem to come often.

“I’m going to have to ask you how you do that mud trick.” she gritted out one evening late in the festival as Scorzalite passed overhead, raising dead leaves and ashes in her wake. The nocturne’s flight was quartering. Hiirkaen could guess what she was searching for.

Keaia raised her head proudly, but remained mute.

Hiirkaen could feel her hackles raising—such a strange sensation, almost itchy, so unlike her mirror ears flaring. But another fight wasn’t the answer. She forced herself to relax. “Come on, Keaia.”

“Covermud.” Keaia said. “At last the great Hiirkaen has some gap in her knowledge.” She took control, rearing them up to peer out of their hiding-place. Hiirkaen, teeth bared with the effort not to respond to her sister’s barbs, spotted Scorzalite’s narrow frame disappearing into the distance, and nodded.

Keaia walked them down into the shadow of a copse of spruces. In the shadows, she began rustling around on the forest floor, shifting leaves, and digging—though Hiirkaen pulled back control enough that her efforts were one-handed.

“This works best with debris from the Wyrmwound rim.” she explained, and turned her head to lock gazes with Hiirkaen. “But any mud can be appropriated with enough spit.”

Hiirkaen blinked deliberately back at her sister, and remained silent.

“Give me…” Keaia growled. Hiirkaen relented, allowing her sister to use both their arms to stir the mud together as she spat on it. With deliberate motions, she began to apply it to both of them.

“There.” she said, some minutes later. They were more or less covered with an assortment of mud, leaves, roots, and spit. “Covers scent, heat-signature, and disguises us to sight as well.”

“Thank you.” Hiirkaen said. “We should be able to avoid the clan now.”

Keaia gave a bitter bark of laughter.

“What?” Hiirkaen snapped.

“You’re ashamed of me.” Keaia said, staring at her. “The wild dragon, yes? That’s why you won’t go home, because you’re stuck with me.”

Hiirkaen replied with a laugh of her own, exaggerated. “You’re more clan-dragon than half of them. I thought you’d followed us; did you keep your eyes shut?”

And then, unexpectedly, her sister fell quiet, and looked down, tears glittering in the corners of her eyes.

Hiirkaen seized control and whirled them around. “Enough.” she barked, grabbing at her sister’s mane. “Keaia, you’ve been acting like a battledrunk maren since…” She growled and shook her head. “If we’re going to make this work, we’ll need to talk, and you need to stop acting like I’m trying to insult you with everything I do. I can’t bring us back to the clan until we figure this out.” She dropped her handful of coarse feathers.

“You’re the one who’s changed!” Keaia snapped back, but her voice echoed with pain, not anger. “You, the high and mighty clan-leader! When did your spine fuse? I’m your sister!”

“You let me think you were dead for five cycles!” Hiirkaen snarled, and then immediately regretted it. She heaved an enormous sigh. “Keaia…” She considered for a moment. If her sister was determined to continue the argument, she’d have to be the diplomat. And maybe she had a point. “When you didn’t come out. When others’ lives depended on me, and I couldn’t fail them like you. That’s when.”

Keaia made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “So you failed me, and now I can’t come to see your accomplishments?”

“Keaia, that’s insane and you know it.” Hiirkaen glowered, wishing she could stare down her sister’s full body and not merely her muddy head.

“You don’t understand!” she said, her voice frantic, barely controlled. “I want what you have. I want a clan, I want children and a role and something other than the Wyrmwound to come home to! You have that! I never have! Not since we left the Expanse.” By the end, she was panting hard enough that they both shook.

Hiirkaen gave the matter a good twenty seconds. Then, deliberately, she whipped her head around and struck her sister hard in the jaw with her horns. The sensation was quite odd, like a headbutt that landed on only part of her skull.

“You idiot.” she said, but she couldn’t keep the warmth rising out of her voice. “We’re in this together, Keaia. My clan, my children—they’re as much yours now as mine. What can I do, exile you?”

Keaia whuffed, but it was not entirely a laugh. “Then why don’t you listen to me?”

“I do listen to you.” Hiirkaen growled. “You just never say anything now.”

“No!” Keaia bucked her head and dug her hindfoot into the ground. “You listen to me about what plants might taste good, or how to catch caterpillars—but not about this. You may be the clan-dragon, but I am… the aberration.”

The word came out hard, and seemed to hang in the air for a long, cold moment. They shivered, though Hiirkaen wasn’t certain which one had started it.

“You wouldn’t listen when I said we needed to go swimming.” Keaia said, quietly.

Hiirkaen felt her teeth bare, felt a protest rise in her throat, but restrained herself.

“I’ve lived as one for cycles, Hiirkaen. An incomplete one,” she drew in a shaky breath, but continued, “but I know how they work. How we’re supposed to work. What we need.”

“Keaia…” Hiirkaen growled, angry at the twinge of fear beginning to rise in her. “I remember what happened last time.”

“LAST TIME!” Keaia yowled, and her voice echoed off the trees as she whirled in place, as if they could still stand facing each other. “Last time for you, Hiirkaen! Not the last for me! Only the first!”

Hiirkaen drew her head back, startled. “What?”

“I swim, yes!” Keaia’s eyes flashed in the gloom, and it was still strange to see three orange instead of four cyan. “I have to! This, fear of the past? I had to face it long ago! If I didn’t, I would have died!”

Hiirkaen stared, taken aback; her sister’s expression was deadly serious. No jokes, no mockery, no provocation. “I don’t think I can.” she said.

“We have to.” Keaia’s voice was stronger, and despite the unnerving nature of their discussion, Hiirkaen found her sister was finally beginning to sound her old confident self again. “And you have to. You can’t keep running.”

Hiirkaen clenched her jaw. “What if we… what if I get worse? If the sickness…”

Keaia shook her head vehemently. “Swimming makes you stronger, not weaker.” She paused for a moment. “Not unless you stay in too long.”

“That,” Hiirkaen glowered into the middle distance, “will not prove a problem.” She bowed her head. “I don’t know if I believe you, but I’ll listen.”

Keaia cracked a cautious smile. “Tomorrow then?”

Hiirkaen dipped her head, though in truth she would have preferred they get it over with that night. But flying to Plague in the dark, without their secondary-eyes, wasn’t a pleasant prospect either. And this was progress, at least—she could feel a noticeable relaxation of her sister’s muscles beside her.

They found a hollow against the rocks and curled up, and for the first time since they joined, fell into a restful sleep.

Glynn made her way down to the central amphitheater of Cindercone’s territory, hoping for news over a late dinner. She was in luck—Hedysara was still in her alcove, happy to prepare her a spiced mash of sandshore crabs, jerked meat, and dried moths. The tundra wrapped the mash in siltvine leaves and passed them to her.

Glynn tucked the packet under her wing, and searched for a convenient perch to eat on. Several other clan-members were arrayed here and there, most eating their own dinners, but none of them were particular friend or foe of hers.

She had just chosen a high seat in the outermost rim when Dessel came in to the clan-center with a flare of wings, and landed in a wash of hot air and scattered ash in the bottom ring of the amphitheater. Glynn ducked her head, glad she hadn’t unwrapped her dinner yet.

“No signs of Hiirkaen.” he reported. “There’s an aberration arguing with themselves in the border forest though… and I thought I heard her name.”

Kellinlii, who had been in the bottom of the bowl herself speaking to Wrysight, snorted, shaking ash off herself. “I’ll go speak to them.”

“They didn’t seem in a mood for it.” Dessel tilted his head. Lamplight glinted on his black horns. “What if they’re angry with her?”

Glynn set down her food, and craned her neck downward curiously.

“Then it’s rather vital I speak to them, isn’t it?” The tundra’s air was distracted; she fiddled with her garb as if settling in for a long trip.

Wrysight blinked her array of eyes in sequence, head to tailtip. Ash drifted around her in odd skeins, repulsed by the charms that kept it out of her eyes. Her shift was next on the border patrol, though Dessel’s early return meant that she was still finishing her evening meal of charred ghost cockroaches and ants. “Did you see anything about them?”

Dessel shook his head. “Just a two-headed silhouette, staggering back and forth. It was getting pretty dark.”

“Should we go at all, then?” Glynn asked.

Kellinlii favored her with a withering look. “If you think I need daysight to find a strange dragon on our borders, you are greatly mistaken.”

“Not my point.” Glynn said, shuffling her wings awkwardly. She hadn’t wanted to insult a clan-leader, even if she was the approachable one. “I’ve been a wild dragon. Approaching at night… well, I wouldn’t have wanted to listen to them. I would have fled, and I’m not a paranoid recluse.”

“But who brought up Elk?” Fortune said in a low voice tinged with mockery. The imperial was reclined in a long circle in a middle level around his own dinner of steamed fish and dayglo thresh.

Kellinlii bared her war-teeth and clicked them together audibly. Fortune withdrew his head, folding his whiskers back.

“I suppose you have a point.” she said. “Shadow dragons are different, but Plague automatically take a darktime visit as an attack, in my experience.” She eyed Dessel. “Did you see their element?”

Dessel groaned aloud. “I just said I saw a silhouette. Their eyes were bright—could be a Plague variant, Fire, Light, maybe even Arcane, but not Shadow. I didn’t stay to chat!”

“Too bad you don’t have a tundra’s nose.” Fortune said, studiously keeping his voice neutral.

“We’ll have to assume Plague, then.” Kellinlii said. “I’ll update my niece, and she’ll make certain the whole border-patrol know.” She stopped fiddling with her garb, and sighed. “In the morning, I will go talk to them. Dessel, will you come with?”

The banescale sighed. “I was hoping to get in a few battles for the end of the Jamboree.”

“I’ll go.” Glynn said. “I’m probably a little better at the air support thing than he is, if anything.”

Dessel rolled his eyes, and limped away in Hedysara’s direction without saying anything.

“Very well.” Kellinlii extended a wing in a welcoming gesture. “Then let’s get an early night.”

Glynn snapped up the last of her proteincake,and followed after.

Taxus eyed the sleeping aberration, icewater in his veins. His wings twitched without his conscious intent, buzzing faintly against his back, and he stilled them with an inward curse.

He’d been woken by the pair’s argument—something about maren—as they passed close by his own hiding-place in the hollow of a dead tree. Sprucetip had told him about the two-headed Ancients that had begun roaming the land—and he’d seen a few of them before, apparently attracted to the fringes and borders just as Elkrekeodh had been when founding the clan.

But the interchange of names had not escaped his hearing. Nor had the scent, so much more vivid to a veilspun than a nocturne, of his clan-leader. He wasn’t certain if Hiirkaen had gone mad, talking to herself, or if she was fused to some other dragon. He was leaning strongly toward the former—the outburst about swimming had made so little sense. Hiirkaen hates swimming.

He’d followed them to their rough sleeping-place, the mud no impediment to a veilspun’s senses, and watched, hoping for answers—but there were no answers, only a dragon with two heads and his clan-leader’s scent.

So it is time to return, he thought. Sprucetip is right, though she doesn’t know it. He couldn’t keep hiding in the border forests when someone so much closer to the clan had become something so much worse than a fae little creature. Madness, the eternal touch of Plague. Would Elkrekeodh even admit her back, or cast her out? Would her children embrace her? Or like Firestone to Kellinlii, would they turn against her?

His wings twitched again, and this time he recognized it for what it was—a shiver. He shouldn’t be out, standing still, in the night cold. If only I had my coat.

With a flicker of wings, he returned to his hollow tree, and vanished back down the warm cavern within.

It was still the gloom of predawn when Keaia woke and, in doing so, dragged Hiirkaen reluctantly back into consciousness. Keaia took charge of shaking the dried mud from their frame as Hiirkaen let her head droop grumpily, longing for just a little longer to lay and sleep. Remembering exactly what they had planned for the day—what had put her sister in such a good mood—brought her fully awake, yet even more reluctant to leave their sleeping-spot.

“Do you want to catch something before we set out?” Keaia’s tone was, indeed, far too chipper.

“Let’s just get it over with.” Hiirkaen growled, feeling suddenly as tired as when the Twins had first hatched. Except then she’d had Elkrekeodh and Maris and then-ridgeback Hyskerekk who could intervene when she needed a rest, and none of them could help her when the family trouble was bound to her.

“We could have plants.” Keia offered. “There’s some bonebark mold over there, and I might smell leechroot mushrooms—those are good!”

Hiirkaen grunted. “An acceptable compromise.”

There was indeed bonebark mold on the tree. Hiirkaen recognized the fungus as a foraging staple of Cindercone’s early days, something that, though common, hatchling Kellinlii and Haskaharr had always enjoyed. Keaia found the freshest pieces of fungus, and Hiirkaen decided that they had a point—the mold was juicy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness where the sporangia had matured like char.

Takeoff was still an awkward affair, and they stumbled as they did their taxiing. Once they were airborne, however, things smoothed out, and they gained altitude without issue, seeking for the jet streams that would convey them north over the Sea of a Thousand Currents to the muggy savannas of Plague.

And thence to the Wyrmwound. Hiirkaen fidgeted uncomfortably, realigning her legs so that they were more streamlined. She stretched out her neck—yes, that was better.

It meant, however, that she was almost cheek-to-cheek with Keaia, their faces pointed together to form a wedge. Not a position she’d ever flown with another dragon… if we are still two dragons. The thought didn’t seem quite as confining anymore, at least. Behind and to the left of them, the sun was just peeking over the mountains separating the southern extremities of Fire and Lightning.

“You want to talk?” Hiirkaen grunted.

Keaia jerked slightly, twitching them off course. Hiirkaen corrected them.

“About?” Keaia asked, a note of caution in her voice.

“You.” Hiirkaen glanced away, down at the ground to note the landmarks—still over the Emberglow Hearth. “The past. Our future.”

Keaia cracked a slight smile, judging by the white Hiirkaen could see at the corner of her eye. “Yeah.”

They banked slightly with the flow of the jet stream.

“You found me. The first Riot of Rot. When I was…” Her voice faltered.

“When you were lying there.” Keaia’s voice was quiet enough that Hiirkaen had to strain to hear her over the rush of wind. “Your legs a festering mess, fever hot enough to leave a burn on my skin.”

Hiirkaen winced, but kept the gesture from affecting their course. “And you gave me legs.”

Keaia sighed. “I’d found them in the Expanse a long time ago. Before. I was able to get away to dig them up and return them to you before Jarx and Jinra showed up.”

“Jarx and Jinra?” Hiirkaen echoed.

Keaia dipped her head slightly, and the wind in Hiirkaen’s eye intensified. “The Major.”

“Keaia…” Hiirkaen growled. “I don’t know any of this.”

“Aberrations live in wild-clans.” Keaia’s voice was harsh. “Most contain at least one Major. Majors are much larger than normal, and are often called upon to serve as wardens for the rest of us.”

Us. The inclusion still felt bitter. “So Jarx and Jinra?”

Keaia sighed. “They were sent by Kvesgarr to take me back. We must not be found. Those were the words we lived by… until just now.” She waggled her head slightly. “Jarx could just put me under his arm and walk off. And Kvesgarr tore into me, told me all about how reckless I’d been, how I’d nearly exposed us all. That he ought to have me killed, since I wasn’t complete anyway.” She sighed.

Hiirkaen mulled her sister’s words over. “Who is Kvesgarr?”

“Leader.” Keaia’s voice grew soft again. “His brother, Atsva, fought with him, and he won. Now Atsva defers in all things, so he is not spoken of.” She trembled slightly. “I hope we never fight like that.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Hiirkaen said. She sighed. “I hope you didn’t take my… what I did when we joined… as an attack like that.”

“I didn’t…” Keaia sighed. “I don’t know what it meant.”

“I was just frustrated, Keaia.” Hiirkaen closed her eyes, then opened them again when flying like that became disorienting. “I didn’t want… I was angry, that I’d never have privacy, never be able to be alone again.” She paused, trying to work through what she needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

Keaia sighed, and so much tension left her half of their body that Hiirkaen momentarily worried. “Like a hatchling-wrestle?”

“Exactly like that.” Hiirkaen said, and cracked a smile of her own. “I don’t hate you. I don’t want to rule you.” She closed her eyes briefly again. “I just want us to be sisters again.”

They flew in silence for awhile. The sun was properly up now, though still strongly angled. Hiirkaen watched as they passed over the bolted metal shapes of the Cinderslag, though it passed by far too quickly for her to get much of a sense what the Industrialists were doing. Then the land dropped suddenly away, and there was only sea below.

“You said you’d helped up, besides that.” Hiirkaen picked the conversation up again to distract herself from the disconcerting expanse of blue beneath her.

Keaia nodded, slightly. “I couldn’t get away often.” There was a mournful note to her voice. “ ‘We must not be found.’ But when you crossed to Lightning I got pulled too.”

Hiirkaen grimaced and laughed simultaneously. “That must have been fun.”

Keaia touched Hiirkaen’s side with her forefoot. “That was the first time my sides opened. But I found some of your clan, led them back to the group. They thought I was you, I think.”

“Thank you.” Hiirkaen said. She pictured her sister—more as a mirror than the single-headed aberration she’d encountered in the border forests—darting up and down dunes, just out of sight of the clan. Then she pictured her as she’d been when they were last separate, a skydancer-like creature with ragged holes in her sides, and thought of sand blowing in them.

“When Stormcatcher’s grip relented, I escaped back to the Wyrmwound.” Keaia continued. “Kvesgarr wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t punish me. Still, I didn’t manage to get away again for awhile. And then…”

Hiirkaen suspected she knew. “You fell out of time.” she growled.

Keaia gave something between a hiss and a screech and they shot up, almost out of the jet stream, as she flapped unnecessarily hard. “That was what happened?”

“I don’t understand it still.” Hiirkaen glowered into the middle distance. “Something about Arcane being fouled up in the clan. And Plague, and Lightning.” She clenched her forefoot until her talons dug into her pads. “Some of us were lost for only one cycle, most of us for two.”

Keaia hissed irritably—she was still, at heart, a Lightning dragon, Hiirkaen realized, apt to view Arcane as the enemy—and began to angle them back down, closer to the heart of the jet stream. “That Kvesgarr was not pleased with. About how I’d missed everything—how we’d almost been destroyed by a rising tide of green and I hadn’t been there. The emergence of gaolers.”

Hiirkaen rolled her head to loosen muscles beginning to cramp in her neck, careful not to hit her sister accidentally. “That was a surprise to me as well. You got news in there?”

Keaia nodded. “Sprites and exalts and the clans around the Wyrmwound all tell stories. We’d use covermud to creep close without detection. But that was you?”

“My clan.” Hiirkaen loosed a dry laugh. “You sure you want them, still? They bring trouble.”

Keaia grinned. “Trouble was fun.”

“Until it wasn’t.” Hiirkaen growled, her mood souring again. And I’m on the way to do it again.

“We should have set out last night.” Kellinlii rasped, her voice rougher than usual with irritation. “They’re gone.”

Glynn nodded, spines bristling uncomfortably. She hated to have given bad advice.

They could see where the aberration had been—torn earth from the argument Dessel had described, a shed rain of mud in the sleeping-hollow they’d used, recent harvest of bonebark mold by something with long claws—but there was no sign of the dragon themselves beyond fading scent, too faint already for Glynn to derive anything.

Kellinlii sniffed the air suddenly. The tundra was wearing armor, patched with bones that clinked and clicked as she moved. Glynn found the outfit unsettling. “Wait.” She turned, and bounded back for the sleeping hollow.

Glynn followed, slowly, somewhat nervous.

Kellinlii had her nose buried in the loam, but she lifted her head as the banescale came up to her. “Hiirkaen was here.” she said.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Glynn said. The longing for her old form, now rarely felt, rose again with a sharp pang.

Kellinlii put a foot down. “Hiirkaen was here, and,” she sniffed at the air again, “she left with the aberration.” She gestured. “Heading north.”

“Why would she do that?” Glynn asked, mystified. Hiirkaen was one of the dragons most hostile to the discussion, even idly, of the clan ever returning to Plague. “Was she driving them off?”

Kellinlii shook her head. “I don’t smell blood or fire. Not enough for a recent conflict.” Her eyes glittered. “She was with them willingly.”

Glynn considered. “She has allies in the Boneyard, doesn’t she?”

Kellinlii nodded. “Wild mirrors. Perhaps she wants to add aberrations to the list.”

Glynn frowned. The way Hiirkaen had run out of the clan when their first aberration guest had come… “Something must have changed her mind?” she said.

Kellinlii’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

Glynn shifted her wings awkwardly. “You don’t think… that Hiirkaen became an aberration?”

“I’m wondering it.” Kellinlii scanned the horizon, a grim smile playing at her lips. “Of course, we still don’t know how, why, or even if dragons can transform into one outside of the Wyrmwound.”

“You’d need another dragon, wouldn’t you?” Glynn frowned.

“Maybe.” Kellinlii dipped one wing in a shrug. “Terviskhar didn’t. And from what I heard about you—”

“Don’t.” Glynn’s lips pulled back to show her teeth full length. “Do you smell Vermouth?” She managed to get the spiral’s name out without faltering, though she still spat it with more venom than the rest.

Kellinlii snorted. “No.”

“Then that’s not relevant, is it? What are you planning to do?”

The tundra flexed her wings thoughtfully. “If they’re heading for the Wyrmwound on the jet streams, we can beat them there.” She pointed east, then North. “There are Arcane gates at the southernmost point of the Lightning Farm and the Cinderslag. We can go straight for the Wyrmwound with those.”

“Shouldn’t we report back?” Glynn blinked.

“You can.” Kellinlii said. “But I want answers, and if I return Elkrekeodh will not want me to leave.”

“So you’re not going to give him the chance to say no.” Glynn shot a look of disgust at her. “That’s not very honorable.”

Kellinlii returned the look levelly. “I, too, am a clan-leader. We do not live solely by Elkrekeodh’s whim.”

“Then oppose him in the council!” Glynn snapped. “Not by going behind his back!”

“I have opposed him in the council.” Kellinlii said. “And he has said no one can leave, other than top-ranked warriors, until Hiirkaen has been found. I am a top-tier warrior and I am going to find her.” She smiled again. “Seems honorable enough to me.” She tightened the straps on her armor, and stretched her wings. “Come with me or make your report. I’ll be at the Cinderslag within the hour.”

“Kellinlii!” Glynn barked, but the tundra was already galloping north, wings spread. An instant later, she was airborne.

Glynn could probably catch her—if she wanted to. But she wasn’t sure she did.

“FINALLY!” The ridgeback’s call of triumph split the air.

Comandrus took off with a muttered oath, spiraling rapidly upward. So much for this hiding-place.

He was entirely unprepared to find himself bodily seized, whirled, and thrown to the ground. Wind knocked out of him, he looked up with a baleful glower from a spreadeagled position to find the ridgeback landing over him—not the gigantic warden, but the other one, the architect.

The pest.

Comandrus drew strength into himself, preparing to throw a surge of Nature magic that would blast the ridgeback full force off his feet, tiny teeth bared.

“Wait!” The ridgeback thrust his head down so fast that Comandrus curled, fearing the bill would impale him, and lost his concentration. “I come with a gift.”

Comandrus blinked, and beheld a rain of preserved butterflies—black witches, meal moths, fallout whispers, and vibrant flutterers—that dropped down on his wings. He sneezed, and rolled into a standing crouch, gathering them up as he did. “What is it?”

“I want to talk.” The ridgeback lowered his head to look Comandrus eye to eye. “Really talk. These are a peace offering.” He blinked, his gold eye larger than Comandrus’s whole head. “We’re alone here. If you want to leave after this—I’ll let you. I’ll bind Nightforest’s wings myself.”

Comandrus laughed. “Now why would I trust you?”

“Because out of the two of us I’m not the sneakthief.” Yskerryth’s growl was thunderous this close up. He gestured, with his rather distant foreclaw. “These were some of my favorites. I hope you like them.”

Reluctantly, Comandrus eyed the butterflies. They were, by and large, delicacies. “Fine.” He picked up a meal moth crunched down on the insect’s abdomen deliberately. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

The ridgeback lowered himself carefully to the ground, not breaking eye contact. “Why did you come to this clan?”

Comandrus laughed. “Because you had things to steal.”

Yskerryth laughed. “No you didn’t.”

Comandrus frowned in irritation. “Who are you to say otherwise, old man?”

“Not an idiot.” Disdain dripped from the bigger dragon’s words. “There are thousands of other clans with unsecured valuables. Why so far from the Viridian Labyrinth?”

“Why do you care?” Comandrus snapped. He opened his wings. “I’ll be gone before you can react.”

“Like last time?” The ridgeback’s eyes glittered mockingly.

“Butterflies buy you a conversation, not my deepest secrets.” Comandrus gestured threateningly with the remains of the insect.

“You don’t want to strike that bargain.” Yskerryth said. “Or you will not escape again.”

Comandrus snarled. “I don’t know.” he said. “Happy?” He snapped his wings open again. “Now I’ll be leaving.”

“Don’t you want to know why I keep talking to you?”

“You’re not that interesting, actually.” Comandrus flattened his fins. “They all say you’re just annoying for the sake of being annoying.”

Yskerryth snorted, and withdrew his head slightly, perhaps better to show off that he’d wilted his spines—though what that gesture might mean the fae neither knew nor cared. “They’re idiots.”

“See, I knew there was a reason I came.” Comandrus finished the mealmoth’s body and eyed the wings. Their bittersweet flavor would work best as a follow-up to a spicy fallout whisper. “You have valuables and you’re idiots.”

“That’s not why.” There was laughter in the ridgeback’s tone now.

“Oh, so you know? Why do you ask me?” Comandrus sneered.

“You were looking for family.”

“My family lives in the Viridian Labyrinth and I know them just fine.” Comandrus flashed him a look of sarcastic sympathy. “Are you colorblind? Or am I just too small to see?”

Yskerryth smiled, baring clean white fangs. “Not at all. You’re my grandson.”

“What?” Comandrus stared, completely taken aback. “That’s stupid.” To cover his reaction, he picked up the fallout whisper, and bit off its head, though he couldn’t really register the insect’s taste.

“Not at all.” Yskerryth said. “My son left for a clan that’s now in the Labyrinth.”

Comandrus shook his head. “So?”

Yskerryth cocked his head calculatingly. “Leafblaze.”

Comandrus shivered involuntarily, and slammed his wings shut, incensed at the momentary weakness. “You’re making that up.” He threw the remains of the whisper on the ground.

Yskerryth favored him with a silent, withering look.

“So you’re my grandfather.” Comandrus growled, or as close as a fae monotone could approximate. “I knew there were weak spots in my ancestry, you didn’t need to tell me.”

“And you don’t want to know me at all?” The ridgeback gave him a look of exaggerated hurt that Comandrus perceived covered at least a trace of genuine pain.

“Not really.” Comandrus tilted his head. “Unless you’d like to be muscle for some of my bigger heists.”

“Would you like that?”

Caught off-guard again, Comandrus blinked. “Well, if you’re actually offering.”

Yskerryth shrugged, one enormous wing sliding down his side with a rustle of leather. “I’ve stolen for the Rogue’s Camp. I might as well steal for family.”

Comandrus shook his head, but intrigue was beginning to sting him. The possibilities, with an 18-meter partner… “So what, I live here and you’ll join me up for a good mark?”

“No.” Yskerryth eyed him. “You’d come back with me and live in the clan.”

“Fat chance.” Comandrus bit out. “I’m not wearing shackles again.”

Yskerryth shook his huge head. “I’d vouch for you, that you’re reformed and won’t target the clan again, or our allies. Then we’d go out and hit your marks from a nice, cosy clan-home.”

Comandrus squinted at the ridgeback, bewildered. “And what, they’ll just forget I stole from them? Or are you so well-respected now that your word goes in all things?”

“They might ask you to pay back what you stole.” Yskerryth tilted his head. “For hearing me out, I’ll cover that from my own hoard.”

“Oh great! I have a sap for a grandfather!” Comandrus jeered, picking the fallout whisper up again and biting off a wing. The tang of Arcane made his mouth buzz pleasantly. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Yes.” Yskerryth smirked. “Who else would rather live out in the forest eating pauper larvae when they could come to clan-home for no more price than a few insincere apologies?”

Comandrus stuck out his tongue. “What exactly makes you so opinionated about bugs, fish-eater?”

“The better part of a cycle as a fae.”

Comandrus’s fins shot upright without his permission.

Yskerryth’s spines, with an ominous scraping sound, did likewise.

“Stop that.” Comandrus snapped. “You were a fae?” He cursed internally. He hadn’t bothered to control his expressions, under the belief that a ridgeback probably couldn’t read them. But that wasn’t the half of it.

Yskerryth rolled his eyes. “Is that quite so hard to believe?” He opened his wings, for the first time in the fae’s presence, and Comandrus noted they were rounded in a way no fullblooded ridgeback’s were.

Rounded wings with faint circuitmarkings. Comandrus buried his head in his free hand. “Then yes, I came seeking you. Are you happy?”

Yskerryth made as close to a fae’s quizzical expression as he could without cheek frills or external ears. “You didn’t know?”

“Only when you said so!” Comandrus stomped his foot, aware that the gesture wasn’t particularly impressive on his tiny frame. “It was important to find family that was fae.” His tail swished stiffly with annoyance.

“Fascinating.” Yskerryth favored him with the sort of Light dragon analytical gaze that Laenalaerr was so fond of. “I wonder why.”

“My premonitions don’t come with labels.”

“I didn’t say they did.” Yskerryth eyed him appraisingly. “Maybe your grandmother will know. She is a Water dragon.”

“That’s if I go back with you.” Comandrus waved the rest of the fallout whisper around. “I’m not sold on it, personally.”

Yskerryth sighed exaggeratedly. “Very well.” His demeanor, for the first time, grew entirely serious, and he withdrew his head to a normal speaking distance. “Then I should warn you about my ancestry.”

“What?” Comandrus asked, a thin thread of fear causing his frills to spike. Irritated, he forced them to relax. Yskerryth could, after all, read them with ease.

“My father, Teshka, has an older sister named Cataclysm.” Yskerryth’s head drooped slightly. “Also a younger one named Zavroc. They’re from a clan on the other side of the border mountains, and so both are exalted to Stormcatcher.”

“And?” Comandrus couldn’t quite work up a sneer.

“They once seized this clan, dragged us fully out of Flamecaller’s grasp and across to the other side of the expanse. Part of the lightning god’s plans.” Yskerryth paused, and sighed raggedly. “Many of us died in the crossing. Others were crippled. In theory, this can never happen again.” A bitter expression curled his lips back again. “I am not so trusting.”

“Oh great.” Comandrus said, tiredly. “And I suppose because they’re family I cannot escape them?”

“I wouldn’t trust to it.” Yskerryth closed his eyes. “After all, if we are truly safe, you may not be. And who knows what of mine you may have inherited besides a circuit?”

A great weight seemed to have dropped onto Comandrus’s shoulders. “Describe them.”

“Hm?”

“Describe Cataclysm and Zavroc.”

Yskerryth tilted his head, and Comandrus had the unnerving feeling the ridgeback knew exactly why he’d asked. “Both are circuit-marked. Cataclysm’s colors are dull and ashy; Zavroc has very long, royal-purple wings. Both are Fire, with a ring of Lightning heterochromia in their eyes.”

Which meant his magic would have minimal effect on them. “And the circuit?”

“Cataclysm’s are dull and Zavroc’s dark when at rest.” Yskerryth eyed his grandson with a far more knowing look than the fae liked. “When they are working magic, have high emotion, or are channeling their patron, they flash bright icy-white.”

Dull circuits snapping to eerie white life. “Blast it.” Comandrus snarled, and threw the whisper down again. The insect’s remaining wing snapped off. Ears pinned and crest bristling with anger, he brushed himself down. “Then I guess I’m coming back with you.” He snarled venomously. “But I don’t have to be happy about it, and you had better follow through with your end of the deal.”

“Naturally.” Yskerryth extended one forefoot. “But you should gather your butterflies before we leave. I’ll carry them.” He rolled the forefoot over to accommodate them.

“Blast it, this is absurd.” Comandrus snapped. But he picked up the butterflies, and Yskerryth tucked them away in his armor.

“Would you like a ride?” He returned the forefoot. “It’s a ways back to clan-home.”

“If you carry my ferret.” Comandrus sighed.

“I’d be delighted.” the ridgeback rumbled. “Lovely creature.”

Tigerseye opined, via their wordless bond, that this move was ridiculous, but bounded aboard the larger dragon at Comandrus’s insistence. The fae fluttered up onto his grandfather’s horn.

He’d better keep to his word.

Author's Note Things I learned while writing this: * Comandrus inherited halfbaked seer abilities from his grandmother * Comandrus is a sassmaster and he and his grandfather play off each other very well * my clan does not cooperate with Hiirkaen and Keaia's plans I went with abbs having the ability to make covermud outside of the Wyrmwound because compared to gaolers and veilspun they seem a little shy on abilities and Ancient craziness—banescales presumably have lost a lot of their old tricks On to the next part.

#Flight Rising #FR writing #FR lore #Allo wrote something #Cindercone Clan is a mess

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