Chapter 8: The Miasma is Thick

Blake Belladonna

"Introducción, Señorita Long!" Blake had her eyes tightly locked to the screen above the college VIP section, all the students cheering for their school's princess of combat. It was packed tonight, many of the patrons from Beacon had forced themselves inside to watch the qualifiers for the Vytal festival. Different sports groups and small teams all played in different tournaments in the build up to the real festival just a month away.

It was the same section of tournament last year where the two had sort of become a pair. Yang had approached her early on to join the club and to help finalize entry into the boxer's qualifiers here. Never made much sense as to why out of a crowd of students, plenty of other bigger, bulkier, or just better girls she could have picked, she chose Blake. The italian barely spoke Spanish then, just getting in on a charity grant, but all of a sudden she wanted the Italian in, despite the foreign girl's retorts that she didn't even believe in violence or this sort of sport. Bigger mystery was why she even said yes to Yang at all back then. Wasn't that lonely before, was it?

That was how Blake became a manager for a club she wasn't a part of, about a sport she didn't care about, and why at nights like these Blake watched it so tightly as Yang stepped onto the small gym stage. It wasn't a big affair outside of Vale itself, but one of the local stations covered it much to the dismay of both the transient customers and sometimes Blake herself. She never enjoyed watching the fight, but just had to. Winning didn't make her feel good and losing was like being stabbed, almost like she felt the punches and kicks Yang received found another victim in Blake's discomfort. Cliché as it was, not watching was worse, just not knowing was some sort of torture. Plus it was a little nice to see Yang so happy, so pleased with herself, so proud. Pride was such a nebulous and impossible to retain thing to Blake, so easy to slip between the cracks and drain into the sand. It was good to see her's so strong.

"Ella es el mejor boxeador local—" the announcer was cut short as was the feed when one of the patrons changed to the ever more popular futbol exhibition game between El Vale and the not distant Leon. Not much was riding on the game, both teams already qualified despite being matched again tonight. Some of the students booed, but a few of the English sailors cheered a good bit louder.

Didn't take long for the information blackout to crawl something fierce under Blake's skin, eliciting a groan out of the impatient girl's lips when serving a pint to one of the same English jerks. That powder keg of a temper she always kept in check was needing some buffering, and it didn't take much time before the limit was reached and Blake needed to know.

"Peter!" she called out, peeking her way into the restaurant's back half, its proprietor boiling away at chips and mixing potatoes for all the assorted appetizers the guests could order. There was no TV in the back of which to watch the game, but as Blake had learned from many a bar and restaurant kitchen, there was always a radio chiming away lightning fast with the news, always a step or two ahead of her comprehension of Spanish. "How's Yang doing?"

"The young lass is doing fantastically, a merit to the city." Peter had this sort of bouncing way he spoke, a short, and as his last name suggested, portly Irish man with a wealth of fantastic stories to tell and an almost disturbing habit of telling them in the most horrible of manners. Still, all around he was a good man, despite the bushy mustache. Easy going employer, too.

"Aye, Blake get back out there, we need you serving drinks now!" The real boss wasn't Port though, it was by a mile Coco, a young woman with a decisive personality gift for command, fabulous sense of fashion, and the cutest little black beret. She always kept her hair short, its brown bangs left long and to the side as not to obscure her vision, which she did anyways with black tinted sunglasses. She was skinny, but confident, someone Blake, and most of the pubs customers agreed, found drop dead gorgeous. The only thing that stood in the way of her being the most sought after woman in Vale was the simple fact that Coco, the queen of Port's Pub and master of booze, was by her own confident nature, terrifying.

"I'm sorry Coco, just had to check how the fight's going," Blake tried to excuse as she stepped out into the front with her true boss. The woman was running trays all night and with masterful hands she managed to take alone what lessor workers would do in three trips. Chips, croquettes, small fish platters, and all sorts of food items brought out to those that eat at the bar,

"They didn't go and change the damn thing, did they?" Coco muttered tone tinged with the taint of her Irish father. Blake thought it was rather suiting for her. "One moment."

The mistress of Port's Pub poured pint after pint, ignoring patrons and protests by present company. Blake slid herself in to cover the load of orders, sending out a tall glass or a shot from person to person. It was rather busy now, and the establishment was criminally understaffed with only one other bar-back, a local kid that tried to go went by the name "Fox" even though everyone knew his very Spanish father Franco Menendez. There was a running poll to find out his full real name to which he was rather allusive. That tan-skinned boy and his bad red dye were strangely illusive.

Loaded up with four drinks, Coco cut through the crowd, an adept of sliding past people without ever touching them or disturbing the booze, a talent Blake playfully envied. Without being asked, she set upon the Englishmen whom had changed boxing to futbol.

"Here's some free pints of gat," Coco announced loudly, placing the thick Guinness branded glasses on the table before her guests. They seemed happy, though as she snatched the means of which to control the main TV the guests all flipped to a confused dismay, "now if you touch the god damn remote one more time I'm going to break your bloody fingers. Enjoy lads."

Coco walked away an undefeated queen in victory, swaying as she stepped, hips popping in pride. A quick touch of a button and the screen switched back just in time to catch Yang wailing into her opponent, the other girl wedged into a corner as a torrent of strikes just hammered her. The Beacon kids all screamed in cheers that outweighed the middling moans of the few opposing party that weren't already sipping their free alcohol.

"See, she's beating the hell out of her, now stop having a fret," the bartender mocked, tossing the remote to Blake as she stepped behind the bar.

"You are an amazing woman, Coco." It was just sweet of her to always look out for people. The queen ruled with an iron fist, but justly for all the regulars and workers. Definitely the best unofficial manager Blake had ever had.

"Aye lass, just takes confidence. Speaking of which, how you doing Bonnie-Bun?" Bonnie-Bun was the nickname given to Velvet after Blake had accidentally revealed her bunny cosplay to Coco. The young Aussie girl was mortified at first, vowing never to show her face in the establishment again. Off course she did eventually, and instead of finding herself picked on, the manger treated her well, even going as far as letting Velvet come in the mornings before opening when only Coco was in setting up. She would allow her to watch an episode or two of whatever anime on the bar flat screen, and during start up Coco would have some company. Velvet was convinced she was turning her new friend into a nerd one step at a time, and the nickname became an affectionate symbol of said friendship.

"Hi! Both of you are working tonight so I thought I'd stop by. How are the two of you?" Velvet asked, her words tinted with the vocal flavor of her homeland.

"Oh happy out. The usual?" Coco asked. The usual, despite the copious amount of time Velvet spent at the bar, was just a pint of the cheapest and lightest beer on tap. One she would nurse for a flat hour until it was so warm as to be undrinkable. No one minded though, she was a fantastic friend and a good tipper, so Blake readied a drink and sent it over.

"I'm alright, just wish I didn't have to work tonight," Blake replied, cleaning off the bar from the thick stains of alcohol which would warp the wood if left alone, "And I wouldn't have to if you hired a bigger staff."

"More hours, so shut your damn mouth," Coco countered with what she always did, disappearing into the crowd with another load of grease covered foodstuffs and a server's plate full of drinks.

"Wish you could really watch the match?" Velvet asked, ignoring the other girl.

"Wish I could go to it. None of the family does." They never approved of it. There was no real future in it for her, no one was scouting her out, instead they pushed her into a major about food. It was frustrating how much they were both right and wrong in one tasteless cocktail. As if in rebellion against that thought, the Yang that hopped and dived on the flat screen landed a heavy blow against her opponent, the girl dropping from the force of the strike. The match was over. She might stand back up, but Yang was fine. The opponent was lumbering up from the floor barely, the match was truly done, and so an easy breath could be had and all of Blake's muscles eased in a visible shut down.

"Tickets are expensive, Yang doesn't want anyone going. You don't even like boxing, it's a waste," Velvet pushed, taking a sip of her beer nervously. She was always the first to push this sort of discussion, even if she always did so in a cool collected attitude.

"I should be there for her, I'm her—"

"Her what, really? Blake, are you two… ?" Velvet pushed a little too hard sometimes, too forcefully in the place she wasn't supposed to go. Blake shot her a look. No matter what the second year thought, this conversation wasn't happening not now, not at all.

"No, we are not. Why does everyone ask that? You know better, Velvet," she clarified, sliding a drink to a German gentlemen to the right and cashing out an American to the left.

"Jesus, you two should just should just kiss and makeup before the sexual tension kills us all," Coco jumped in, coming from the opposite side of the bar she left. How she even managed to get around Blake was just mind boggling.

"Coco!" both girls called out in unison, neither of them content with that kind of solution.

"'Cause clearly those were very platonic massages you give her all the time, eh?" Coco joked, leaving Blake a little flustered as she filled more drinks, took more orders, and tried to compete with the incoming swarm.

"Drop it!" That was the end of this, even if Coco was her boss, Blake was not having this talk.

"Oh, I will yea," which, as Blake had discovered, in Irish meant she absolutely wouldn't. Coco again took her leave at the request of the Beacon students. Yang had won the match, the girl stayed on the ground after another solid strike. She didn't want to get hit again, who would? Wiping the sweat away from her brow, Blake smiled while Velvet looked nervously confounded. She opened her mouth to speak, brushed some loose strands, started again, but stopped. Seemed almost like a cycle of failure until finally she just let it all out in a rush.

"Blake, how about instead of getting so invested in this festival stuff for Yang, maybe we could go to the festival together while she's doing her finals matches? Actually enjoy it this year instead of what happened last time," Velvet knew already, knew all about that weekend. Blake thought about it a lot as a moment that tip toed on the thin line of nostalgia and regret.

"I did enjoy last year," she finally settled on nodding to herself.

"Blake you worked all day on getting Yang ready and all night here," Velvet commented, knowing full well the parts she missed, the fire show, the parades. She served the drinks, but did little drinking. That was until the bar closed some five AM, only Yang, her, and a rather sleepy Coco, then her time began.

"I enjoyed afterwards, it was a good weekend," it was an amazing weekend, "but no, I will not be repeating everything. I will help Yang, but I won't be as involved this time. I promise Velvet. You should find some people to enjoy the show, I hear it's great." Blake felt her phone buzz in her jeans back pocket, but didn't move to check it, serving a pint.

"I just don't want you hurt. You're just as important as her," Velvet mumbled, sweet thing that she was. Blake couldn't have wished for a better dorm mate.

"I'm fine, Velvet. Now give me a moment," Blake asked, sliding out the phone. It was exactly the number she expected, a flash picture of the past, Yang and Blake a year ago from that festival night, both of them drunk, tired, and happy. She tormented herself keeping that picture up. Why, she didn't really know, but it never changed for Yang's number.

Blake's first response to the call was to pick up, ask about the fight, if she was okay or sore or hurting. Second was to lie and tell her she was somewhere else and not working, someplace Yang wouldn't run off to find her. Third was to not answer at all. She never got to choose, the fourth option picked for her as again, out of the drunken commission, Coco appeared to snatch the phone.

"Aye, Yang, bloody good match… happy out… yeah, she's working, I'll keep her late for you, swing on by." Coco hung up the phone with a smile, tossing it back to Blake as the young bartender in training cringed. "She's on her way love bird, oh, and no using phones at work. Now smile already!"

Once again, smirking all the while, Coco vanished into the tangled and writhing mass of Monday night partiers. Blake was left alone to tend the bar, as was her job, with only a now upset Velvet to keep her company till the aforementioned champion came for her. She didn't mean to hide, just things were so complicated and Yang had a miasma of simplicity to her, breath enough in and Blake could almost believe the unbelievable, but it would never be that simple.

Facts stood that their lives couldn't mix again, not safely and not so intimately. Still, Blake couldn't walk away complete, despite knowing full well it was how to undo the curse that was tugging at her chest. Instead of reviling it, between served drinks and animate conversation with Velvet she kept her eyes watching that wooden door, darting to it every time someone walked in. It wasn't Yang, not once yet, so much so she damned it. Blake couldn't stop loving the curse.

Then she came, the warrior princess of everyone's dreams, Yang Xiao Long, the only Chinese natural blonde Blake would ever know in stunning glory. She had a bandage on her check, hiding a bruise from the match probably. Her hands were swollen red, clothes disheveled, hair wet and disorganized from the rain the woman had driven through to get here. She looked like such a victor, and damn did it earn appraise and a smile from Blake despite herself.

"La chica colleja!" The girl champion. Someone shouted it in the bar and the chant exploded. Everyone was on her immediately. Congrats were offered, as were shots of tequila. Of course Yang didn't bother with it, though she loved the attention. She pushed her way to the bar, right to Blake. The miasma of simplicity was starting to thicken and Blake wanted to give her a hug right there.

"Blake! Did you watch? It was awesome!" She leaned over the bar as close as she could, fire still burning in Yang. She didn't care a bit what the other might say about how she slotted her attention, how flirtishly she reached for Blake, breaking a lot of patron rules. The miasma was thick.

"I see you hurt yourself again," Blake couldn't stop herself from saying, reaching out and brushing her finger on the bandage. Last year she did this, cleaned the champion up and dressed her wounds. Blake on the other hand hated blood, but the girl was notorious for injuring herself, making of show of taking blows and sending them right back. Unnerved people how much she could take never seeming to care. Blake cared. She didn't like it and always went to patch it up.

But Yang always got hurt again. Selfish.

"It's alright, I fainted her is all."

"You're supposed to fake faints, not actually let them hit you."

"Works better if it's real!"

"Alright!" Coco shouted, sending the patrons reeling, "How am I supposed to give the Colleja your free drinks if you don't give the lass some space. Back the bloody hell up." The bartender growled and they backed up right quick, many taking their seats not wanting to upset the queen. "Good work Yang, on the house," she added, sliding Yang a pint of her own.

"Thanks Coco! You're looking fab tonight by the way!" Yang answered, taking a sip and knowing how to just make everyone smile.

"Don't go thinking I'm a girl you can pick up of the curb, Yang," Coco answered with a bit of a red tint. She was a tough one, but no one dresses that well and doesn't want someone to appreciate it just as much as they do.

"I would never risk breaking the heart of the girl that serves my drinks, Coco, you're safe," that was impressively stupid, "so did you watch Blake!?"

"Yeah, someone put it on. Congrats on winning, you did wonderfully," Blake answered getting another patron a drink. She meant it too, the girl felt some pride in her still best friend. "I'm happy for you."

"If you are happy for me, let's celebrate!" Yang called out before chugging down her beer. Winners seemed to like to drink for some reason.

"I'm working, Yang. I can't," Blake replied, a little sad herself. There was something lost in their old party nights, even if she wasn't much of a drinker personally.

"That's why we're going to party right here until you get off for the night!" Stop being so god damn charming, Blake thought with a smile.

"Oh no you're not!" Coco shouted at her, though no one was going to stop Yang tonight."

"Ruby's got morning class, so I would have to duck out early in the morning, but we can party all night and maybe we can crash in town." Blake went in her shell when Yang suggested it and could see it from how she looked unnerved for a second. "Of course I mean like at the dorm, not at a hotel. Like the couches are comfy there!" She laughed to try and ease the discomfort, but it was already awkward dancing on that memory now, no fixing it.

Blake needed to pull away now. Needed to badly.

"So is Pyrrha coming?" Blake admired Pyrrha, she was a tough, tall beautiful girl, more a match for Yang than anyone else. She wanted to push that forward, bring it up whenever she could. Though it felt like barbed wire. She used Pyrrha as tangled wire between them, and it worked.

"She, uh, she wanted to stay at home," Yang mumbled angry for a moment, "but hey bud, we haven't celebrated together like this in a while. You're still my best friend Blake and I wanna party with you!"

"I suppose." The wall was working, but it was a painful sort of poison to take bite by bite.

"Have a drink?" Yang pushed the pint toward her apologetically, the brown liquid inside at half, "You look like you need it. Sorry for being weird." That wasn't why she apologized.

"I can't, on the clock," Blake replied, I can't becoming a sort of mantra lately, "but thank you Yang. It's been a stressful semester." Blake tried throwing a bone. She didn't want to hurt Yang after all, just wanted to keep distant. Safe for both of them.

"Coco's Irish, I doubt she cares," Yang answered, pushing it more.

"That's racist, and no, I'm French!" Coco shouted from across the room, always so quick to clarify.

"Your dad is Irish," Blake couldn't stop herself from adding to her boss's dismay.

"And my mum is French!" It was a feeble defense, but Coco stuck to it fierce to the end. Most people dropped it at that level of stubborn, but Yang, no never Yang. She winked at Blake before setting her violet eyes on Coco again.

"Is your mum nice? How could I've never met your mum? Is this your mum's bar?!" Yang said with a laugh, putting an emphasis on mum just to highlight Coco's bull. Blake chuckled too, though only lightly.

"It's called a pup!" Coco retorted, angrily retreating to the kitchen and leaving to the sound of laughter. Fox moved into the other side of the bar to ease some of the pressure, which Blake appreciated yet didn't. For such a crowded room it felt like there were only two people in it.

"She will hurt you Yang," Blake chastised her lightly, filling another pint to follow the one she was finishing up now. It was clear the bartender was staying sober for tonight what she tried.

"I can take her," Yang replied doing exactly as Blake predicted, downing her drink.

"I didn't mean like—" Yang didn't let her finish, hand reaching out past the bar to grab Blake's. The blonde's were much more callous and rough, their red knuckles must have stung with how swollen the fingers were. She didn't wince despite it when Blake felt around their bruised form.

"Thanks for worrying about me," Yang mentioned with a smile, a sort of charming one that gave one the deepest impression that she would always be on your side. Such was the effect of her miasma.

"Someone has to, you don't do it to yourself," Blake remarked, thinking about the myriad of injuries the blonde vagabond put herself through. It was such an unfortunate reality, so heavy a burden to so deeply be entrapped by that sort of recklessness she was. For as much as Yang could not deny her thrill seeking, Blake could not deny her desire to heal her, despite attempting to escape it.

Knowing this, Velvet tried her best though.

"Yang? Hi, I wanted to say good job on the match. I'm not a fan of boxing, but you did well," her words mingled with an Australian accent, the brunette cut in, tapping Yang on the shoulder and handing her a congratulatory shot Fox had gotten her.

"Thanks buddy!" Yang announced, downing the shot quick. Her face turned a sickly sour ending in an aspirated yelp. To her credit, Yang drank very little except when at the bar. She lived a dry life outside of friends so Blake never worried. "Also, like tomorrow after I get over my hangover can we go over some math? I was not focused in the slightest today."

"Yang, study more, this is why I have to warn Blake about you!" Yang laughed at that, never taking Velvet's open criticism of her too poorly. She tossed one arm over the girl, pulling the short physicist into a tight, if unwanted, hug.

"How do you deal with this cutie for a roommate?!" Yang was not letting go.

"Stop! I'm older than you!" Velvet groaned, trying to squirm her way out of the bigger girl's affections. There was no escape.

"Yang, be good," Blake demanded with a smile.

"I wanna keep her like a pet bunny!" Yang argued, further giving the best puppy dog look she could muster. Blake was unaffected and so Velvet was freed.

"Stop with the bunny jokes! It was just one cosplay!"

"Sorry Velvet, you know I adore ya!"

"A little too much."

A buzzing noise broke up the laughter and reminded Blake she was on the clock. "One moment," Yang requested, taking out her phone. Blake nodded yes, returning to work and sending drinks Fox's way, though curiosity made her take short glances at the blonde. "Hola... Padre?... No." There was a shrill pause where for the first time in memory Yang turned white and her eyes widened in the fear. Blake was shaken to see this, Yang Xiao Long doesn't take anything seriously. More than that, she is never supposed to be afraid. "Aye dios mija, Me voy a casa!" Yang shouted back, putting away her phone in a real life panic. Whatever happened she was going home, now.

"Yang, are you okay?"

"Ruby ran away, I need to leave right now. Put it all on the tab," Yang shouted, spinning right around. She was never scared for herself, but others, but her little sister. Blake knew perfectly well how much that little American girl meant to her. All the stories she used to tell, almost made Blake a little jealous. In the end Ruby turned out to be not what she expected, but a really sweet girl. What would motivate this had to be bad.

"Wait, you can't drive Yang!" Velvet called out, honest girl she was, but Yang was already at the door.

"Shit! Well I'm going to have fun breaking the law! Later!"

"Wait," Blake couldn't believe she was about to do this. Stupid, senseless, there was nothing Yang could do that the police couldn't, or Blake for that matter. There was no reason to risk her job, piss everyone off, put the pub's already understaffed crew in even more trouble. Still, she would and did. The miasma was thick. "I'll drive, I'm completely sober. Coco, I'm sorry, but I have to go. Clock me out, I'm sorry!"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Coco shouted, stepping out of the back and into the front, "Bonnie-Bun, interested in a night's work?"

"Blake, you don't have to—" Yang pleaded, but it was already too late. The young, perhaps soon to be unemployed, woman stepped out into the moonlight, a good sign that at least the rain had stopped.

"Yang, don't even start with me," Blake argued, walking right out into the street, the slick roadway empty and few people out, only the occasional bar hopper. "So, where did you park?"

Blake never liked motorcycles. During the day they were the American made deadly version of the much slower and quieter scooter. It felt too quick, too out of control, too wild. At night though she understood the appeal. The wind still rushed by like a brutal beating and the motor was still way too loud echoing down the road, but now the streets were empty. What little nightlife around stayed in the city alleyways between the illuminated strips of light. No one was on the road into the mountains, maybe a small Volkswagen with its brights on, but empty was the world.

Alone it wasn't so dangerous, what wildness to it could be gentle. Fast or slow didn't matter when the only things around to hit were the bright moon glowing silver in the sky, its massive reflection in the distant Atlantic waters, and a woman gripping arms around Blake. It felt nice, the noise seemed distant then, the wind not so bad. Here she was, glad Yang had bought her that second helmet with its white lotus design, happy she had pushed her into learning how to ride this monster.

This was nice.

"You remember where I live?" Yang didn't have to shout loudly, a normal voice, though reduced to a whisper by the engine, could reach Blake now that she was so close. Her warmth made the cold air refreshing instead of bitter. The rain had stopped some time ago thank the lord, so while the roads were slick, their clothes were warm.

"I remember." Blake thought she always would.

A turn off the main road and that subtle stone bumpy feeling told the Italian to slow her pace. A village had fused with suburbs here. New houses had sprung up and the plazas that used to be dead found a second life. Still the old found its history implanted. A beautiful church on the left that remained burned out and warped by the Spanish civil war a distant memory ago. That was a personal favorite spot for her. The two of them hung out there whenever Yang got tired of her parents following her. It was open, but no one came by and had such beautiful flowers.

The village became thinner as they entered the last street of mismatched stone fencing and moss. Everything was damp now and the moon reflected it. The house was up ahead, tallest building this far out. Not surprising to see standing out front, body draped over the stone fencing, Mr. Long. He was looking out for a daughter to come home. Yang wasn't the right one, but perhaps seeing the brights of the bike might lift his spirits.

Seemed to, until Blake too off her helmet.

"Blake? Sorry, I thought you were Ruby. It's, uhh, it's good to see you." The family that had been like long lost relatives had become distant very quick, but that part was Blake's fault. She never seemed to come by anymore, there was always an excuse.

"Dad, what happened!?" Yang asked in English, they got into the habit for when Blake was still struggling with Spanish. Wasn't needed anymore, but it was nice to see they cared about being considerate still.

"Ruby came home today and there was a fight with your mother, and that's all I know. I came home and no one was here. She didn't even bring it up until I asked," Mr. Long answered, not turning away from the street. At first Blake wondered where Mrs. Long was, the car was missing. Hopefully out looking, Mr. Long wanted to wait for Ruby. Blake could only hope she didn't just leave him here to have a leisurely drive, though who could blame Mrs. Long if she didn't want to do anything at all about a child that wasn't her's. She was always so nice through, she wouldn't...

"Madre!" Yang shouted for her mother so loud dogs from the distant neighbors could be heard barking. The house did not stir.

"Please Yang, not tonight. She went out for a bit. We need to find Ruby. Do any of you know where she might have gone? Her phone is dead. Please?"

"She doesn't know a lot of people, but maybe Penny?" Blake suggested, prompting Yang to take out her phone for the umpteenth time. The entire ride she was texting everyone that Ruby knew, unfortunately that made a list of two right now, Penny who wasn't responding and Nora who said she was out on the town with Ren, which of course ousted that possibility, too.

"I texted her, but she didn't reply," Yang clarified for her father.

"Anyone else?" Mr. Long begged, seeming weary and defeated. He had that look of someone who feared the inevitable defeat and finally experienced it. That unsurprised terror was unpleasant to look at.

Speaking of unpleasant.

"Weiss!" both of the girls shouted at once. It was perfect. They were constantly linked despite all sanity. So much so Yang was convinced they were, or soon would be, an item. Who else would one go to if they ran away from home? To the love of your fairytale of course. Predictable.

"Shit, I don't have her number!" the blonde announced, looking through her phone. Blake checked anyway, but she knew it wasn't on her's either. No one had Weiss' number, no one but Ruby of course. The Schnee girl never tried to make friends, keeping distant, only ever really chatting with Ruby and perhaps on occasion with Penny in a pair, or even rarer Pyrrha on her own. Blake couldn't tolerate her attitude and as such most people she knew were content to stay away. Seniority beat wealth, not that Blake intended to bully her, she could be friends with whoever, but the lines just sort of fell that way.

"I suggest we split up. I'll look in town, Yang you search the village. Bring a flashlight, it's sort of dark," Blake ordered, the most sensible of the three.

"Alright, dad you call the university. I doubt she could get there herself, but maybe she hitch hiked?" Yang suggested, smart but disconcerting.

"I really hope she did—"

The buzz struck again, silencing everything but the dogs and bugs. Yang looked at the number confused, but didn't hesitate to pick up.

"Hola. Yang Xiao Lon—" Yang stopped, the tense look in her shoulders relaxing once and for all, "Thanks Weiss, I'll be right—" then it came again, fire burst from her eyes, at least it felt that way. Yang was very mad. "What do you mean it's not fucking necessary!? ...She's my fucking sister, bitch! ...I can call you whatever I damn well want, I am coming over and pic—" she stopped suddenly, and damn, if she wasn't vibrating with anger, "You did not just fucking hang up on me!" Blake thought her screaming madre was loud. This was impressive.

"Yang?" Blake asked with a raised brow.

"You need to watch your language, that's not really ladylike," Mr. Long started, regretting it from the look on his face even before he said it. Poor guy couldn't catch a break.

"Dad, I get punched for a living. I am not lady-like. Blake, she's with Weiss-bitch Queen-of-the-Sea-nee. We're going to pick her up at the dorms." Yang's intensity might have been at an all-time high, but for everyone else, this was a relief.

"Oh thank goodness," Mr. Long let out into a smile. The easing in his expression was immediate and immense, Blake was happy to see it.

"How the hell did she even," she puzzled, her head hurt, she was tired and things weren't even finished yet. Another ugly problem came to mind. "Yang I can't drive you both back on one bike."

"Could I crash at the dorms…I'll use the—"

"Yeah, it's okay. It's not perfect, but we've had you sleep over before…you don't have to use the couch. Friends can share a bed just fine." Despite her resistance, they were back to how it was, back but with coupled apprehension. This incident closed much of the rift. It was nice, but problematic. The rift kept them both safe from each other, whatever could have possessed Blake to do all this. The miasma was thick.

"Yeah...friends can," both of them breathed out at that, Yang taking the lead, "Let's go save my sister."

***Hi all! Happy to have Choice out again, this time with another look into the Bumblebee vs Greekfire section of the story which deals with old choices (which is why it's internally named it the chosen story arch), where the main story is about new choices in life and is the choice story arch and will be like every 3rd or 4th chapter. I hope you guys like this and keep reading 'cause next chapter will be one I've been looking forward to writing and for the white rose lovers I promise it'll be about them! :D

I want to say thanks to LazyKatze for editing, congrats to her for the new Layers of Ice chapter (which if you haven't read go read it!) and announce that we now have a collab available which is on my profile here, check it out! She is the best! :D

Later everyone!