This idea came from a tumblr prompt "What would happen if you kissed a statue at the museum, and it came to life," and a bit of insane modification thanks to the magic of alcohol.

For people that read my other stuff: Patching the Scar's next chapter is about ¾ done, hoping to have it out by this weekend, along with a lot of rewriting of the previous chapters. Devils dice will be worked on as soon as Patching the Scars is completed.

More story recommendations for those that are interested.

Bodyshock and Deleted Scenes from Bodyshock by YinYangBangBang (mainly freezerburn, BiGender Yang, 120,000 words).

Off the Radar By YinYangBangBang [Student!Ruby, Beast!Blake. Ladybug with hints of BlackSun and Tauradonna, 30,000 words]

Wolf Love by suomynonAX (200,000+ words, WhiteRose with implied Bumblebee, Faunus Ruby) This one is WAY too good to pass up

Lost and Found by Name Forsaken (50000+ words, Freezerburn)

Museums were many things: bastions of the collective knowledge of mankind, safeguarding it against the perils and dangers of ignorance. Reminders of ancient civilizations long since lost in power, reduced to brief footnotes in history books by the inevitable march of time. An endless opportunity for children to be mystified by the skeletons of dinosaurs, previous rulers of the earth lost long ago. It was a wonderful place to be if you were in need of knowledge, entertainment, or a place to go on a date with your fact obsessed girlfriend.

It was not a good place to be a third wheel to an aggressively cute and annoyingly intelligent couple. Especially when that couple consisted of your best friend and sister, and especially not when you were deeply attracted to your best friend.

And yet that is the situation Yang found herself in, dragging her feet through exhibit after exhibit, pointedly ignoring Ruby and Blake as often as possible. It didn't hurt that she had snuck her vodka filled flask past security, the guard so distracted by her generous endowments that he failed to notice the tiny plastic container shoved into the side of her jacket pocket.

But no matter how hard she tried she still caught glimpses of them out of the corner of her eyes, and her body had developed a list of reactions to each thing she saw. Every time Ruby and Blake's hands were intertwined, her fingernails dug into her flesh hard enough to make her bleed. Watching Ruby get a peck on the lips for answering Blake's question correctly made her jaw involuntarily clench hard enough that she would probably shatter all her teeth before noon. Seeing Blake's arms wrapped around her sister's body, one head resting on another as they read the various exhibit prompts, made Yang feel bitterly cold. A chill of any kind was a foreign sensation for the blonde, whose skin normally felt like it was on fire, no matter what the weather was outside. And while a mild chill normally felt pleasant, this one hurt down to the marrow of her bones, with only the burning fires of alcohol able to temporarily chase it away.

But the worst sight, the one that made her take a shot every time she gazed upon it in hope of erasing the images from her head, was seeing their eyes as they looked at each other. Because Blake, the person she had been in love with since they met in grade school, her one source of steady support no matter how difficult life became, was utterly and completely in love with Ruby. And Ruby, the little sister she had raised and taken care of since birth, the girl that she would die for in an instant, loved her right back.

So no matter how much it hurt Yang could do nothing but watch. Watch as the two people she cared about most grew closer by the day, sinking deeper and deeper into the shared happiness they both felt in each other's presence. As if she wasn't already torturing herself enough, her traitorous mind made her imagine their future 5, 10 years down the line. They would continue to date, probably get married, and maybe raise a family of their own. And all Yang could do was watch.

At least, that was what she was desperately telling herself. Part of her, a dark and, jealous part, wished that she could be Ruby, no matter what was necessary, and was becoming increasingly desperate to make that wish a reality. It had been eating at her for months, tormenting her mind with images of her and Blake together and happy, haunting her dreams and leaving her with no escape. Thankfully, after months of silent suffering, she was finally gaining ground against her own weakness with the help of her other friends. They had a simple solution: steady consumption of copious amounts of alcohol, and several drunken failed attempts at one-night stands with girls who always looked amazingly similar to Blake.

Unable to look at them for another second Yang walked away, wandering at random until she found herself in the Viking exhibit, surrounded by wax figures of hairy, burley men wielding a variety of weapons. Thankfully the exhibit was empty, though she looked around several times to make sure. Isolated at last Yang walked around the exhibit at random, growing angrier at herself by the second, her head once again consumed with jealously. Dangerous thoughts were swirling around in her skull, threatening to drive her mad.

Out of all the people Blake had to end up dating, it had to be my sister. How the hell am I supposed to be happy for them when I can't stand being in the same room? I can't just cut off contact; both of them worry about me way too much. They won't let me ignore them again, not after what happened last time. What am I going to do? How is this fair?

Unable to contain it any longer she screamed her frustration, her right hand coming up and punching a column hard enough to leave a small dent had it been made of plaster. Instead it was granite, and she kneeled to the ground, clutching her hand in pain.

A quiet voice suddenly rang out from behind her, making her jump to her feat, panic racing through her veins. She whirled around to confront the source and found herself looking at a short girl with pink, white and brown hair, dressed in an ice blue suit. The stranger paused for a second to look Yang over before repeating her question "Which one do you prefer?"

"Huh" Yang asked, confused by this strange, diminutive girl's question?

"Which one do you prefer? Which statue?" the girl clarified, gesturing behind Yang. Out of the corner of her eye Yang realized that she was standing in the mythology section of the Viking exhibit, in front of what appeared to be part of the Nordic Pantheon of gods. For some reason Yang decided to humor her, and turned around to regard the statues.

The tallest was a full size bust of a large, imposing old man, his features so detailed she wouldn't be surprised if he came to life then and there. Two statues flanked him, one on each side, both smaller in size but equally as detailed, depicting what Yang could only assume were his daughters. All three were clad in medieval armor; swords resting casually in their hands, their posture reminding Yang of victorious generals overseeing a one-sided battle with no survivors.

The older male and the taller girl's statues were flawless, as pristine as the day they were carved from stone. Their expressions however were cold, cruel, uncaring about all that stood in front of their gaze. But the smallest statue, depicting the younger female, was the exact opposite. Her statue was damaged in several areas. One eye was gone, as if someone had carved it straight out of the rock. Her sword was broken, the pointy end nowhere to be found, and her body had several cuts on it. Some were long, others deep, but the most damaging appeared to stretch from her upper shoulder to her opposite hip.

She spent a minute looking over each one then responded "It would help if I knew anything about them," her back still to the stranger.

"Read the plaques," was her frustrated response, her voice thick with exasperation.

Thankful that her back was turned, thus shielding her massive blush of embarrassment from view, Yang looked at the first plaque in front of the tallest statue. As far as museums went, it was rather lacking in useful information. It contained no names, just a short description of each statue.

The taller male's read: Harbinger. That was it; no description, no nothing. Underneath was a small note from the museum explaining that the rest of his portion was too weathered to be translatable, so there was no other information about him, except what could possibly be his name?

The other two statues had more descriptive plaques, though both lacked names. The taller girl's plaque read

"Changer of seasons, stealer of the sun.

Ruler of cold and the endless black

To bring back the spring, pray for warmth and light

Otherwise Winter will reign for another day."

Beneath the rather weird saying was "Roughly translated version of goddess's prayer. The other plaque read

"Maiden of blizzards, mistress of ice.

Bringer of death in the everlasting night

She'll freeze your bones, blood and heart

Cast your soul into the everlasting White,"

and beneath this one was the same prayer line. Yang re-read both plaques several times, partially to gain a firmer understanding of the poor translations, and partially because her multiple swigs of vodka were finally kicking in and turning the tiny writing blurry.

Eventually she came to a decision, and turned as she said "The shorter statue."

A small smirk grew on the shorter girls face, as if she had known that would be Yang's answer. She nodded, to herself as much as to Yang, then looked up and asked "Why?"

Yang thought about it for a second, since her answer had been completely instinctual. Why did she pick that statue? Shrugging, she responded "I don't know anything about that big guy" gesturing with one thumb to the granite male before her "so he's out. And the older girl is almost too….prefect. There are no flaws, no imperfections. Even gods have issues sometimes." And the other statue somehow looks…..pained, as if their inspiration was being hurt even as they were carving her likeness she thought, keeping the last reason to herself.

The stranger's smirk grew into a full blown smile, impeccably white teeth and all, but all she said was "I see. So, are you going to pray to her or what?"

Yang was thrown for a moment by the odd question, eventually choking out "How and why would I even bother doing that?"

"The how is simple. You simply repeat the prayer, ask of the statue whatever it is you want, then kiss the statue. As for why..."

"Woah, woah, woah, I have to kiss the statue? Why?"

"Because that's how it works" The shorter girl responded, her eyes bright with mischief. "As for why, you look like a person in need of some guidance. What better way than by seeking the infinite wisdom of the divine?"

Ok, she officially went from slightly weird to full blown religious nutter Yang thought, now uneasily regarding the girl standing before her. If she had been sober she probably would have walked out of the room then and there. But her buzz was almost at the point of full blown intoxication, lowering her stupid decisions threshold just enough to be willing to try something as weird as this.

Yang walked up to the statue, said the weird prayer, but her mind went blank as she leaned in to kiss the statue on the lips. I know what I want, I want to be dating Blake. To hold her hand, to feel her lips on mine, her hands running all over my body, hearing her heart beat….

"I want Blake and Ruby to be happy" she whispered to the statue, right before her lips gently pressed against the cold granite. She leaned back after a second, a single tear falling down her cheek. Because as painful as it was to accept, that was the best she could hope for from reality. That Blake was happy, and if Ruby was the one that could make her happiest, then she had to learn to live with it. No matter how much it hurt, or how much she wished that things were different.

Feeling momentarily at peace, Yang turned around to say "Thank you," only to find that the room was once again empty. She looked around a few times, wondering where the stranger had gone, before her phone blared loudly, Pyrrha's ringtone echoing through the empty room.

"Hey Yang, we still on for tonight at Juniors?" Pyrrha, her friend and occasional sparring partner, asked?

"You know it" Yang replied cheerily, pausing for a second as Pyrrha cheered, before asking "Is Mercury actually coming this time?"

"He better be" Pyrrha answered, frustration bleeding through the phone line. Mercury had missed their last few weekly get togethers often by canceling at the last minute. He had been blaming some mysterious girlfriend, and had refused to try to bring her along no matter how much Pyrrha and Yang pestered him about her. Until tonight

"Remember our bet?" Yang asked cheekily, her trademark smirk growing on her face.

"Yes" Pyrrha sighed, afraid of the consequences of losing.

"Good. See you at 9." Yang answered before hanging up, now looking forward to tonight's events rather than grudgingly tolerating them like she had been the last few weeks. After one more look around, she walked out of the museum exhibit, her stride confident, purposeful and a little wobbly, reminding her that she should probably quit day drinking while she had the chance.

Either someone buried me in a sand grave, or I forgot to drink water last night. Yang thought, opening her eyes for a second before the glare of daylight forced her to shut them again. She had been through a few bad hangovers before, but nothing like this. Her body ached like she had been hit by a freight train going at the speed of a harrier jet, then rode down Mt. Everest by the world's fattest yeti. Her limbs were so heavy she briefly wondered if someone had replaced her bones with concrete, then staked her to the bed for good measure. The headache was so overwhelming she half expected to find an axe embedded in her skull. But the thirst was by far the worst. It's like someone compressed the entire Sahara desert, mixed in all the salt in the world for good measure, and then shoved the entire thing into my mouth.

If someone had offered to kill Yang at that moment she would have screamed at them to do it, had she been capable of speech. Instead a small whimper of pain escaped her lips as she tried, unsuccessfully, to force herself to get up. After about 5 minutes of lying there, groaning in increasing amounts of pain as her body fully woke up, Yang finally felt alive enough to open her eyes. She did so slowly, wary of the dangers of allowing sunlight unrestricted access to her corneas.

After fully opening her eyes fully she blinked a few times, her brain slowly getting her bearings. She was back at her apartment, lying in her bed, though strangely enough the blankets had not been thrown off the bed in a hangover induced nightmare, which was odd. Looking to one side, then the other, she saw her salvation. A tall glass of ice water, fogged over with condensation, sat on her nightstand. Yang blinked to make sure it was real, and thankfully it was still there when she opened her eyes, faintly hovering in the morning light. Beside it sat a pair of ibuprofen pills, the sight of which was so beautiful Yang felt her body shiver in delight.

The heaviness in her limbs entirely forgotten, Yang grabbed for the glass of water like a sinner in need of salvation. She chugged half of it down in one gulp, shoved the pills into her mouth, then swallowed the rest of the ice cold liquid, her symptoms already feeling better. I'm so happy I could cry. Drunk me did something nice for sober me for once. I feel so….sick, I feel REALLY sick.

Knowing the telltale signs of impending projectile vomiting, Yang raced out of her room, barely making it into the bathroom. Her head just barely angled for the toilet before she felt the first round of puke rise out of her throat. For almost an entire minute she retched, her body emptying itself of the various toxins she had forced it to endure for the entire night. She momentarily felt the nausea lessen and leaned back for a second, praying that her hair hadn't gotten any puke in it.

Only to feel a hand stop her movement, keeping her body firmly hunched over the toilet. She became vaguely aware of another hand holding her hair back before she felt more puke rising as her stomach started round two. After another minute she was finally empty and feeling slightly better overall, despite her stomach being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste.

She felt the hand release her hair as a voice called out "coffee in the kitchen," followed by a pair of feet as she tromped off. The sounds of metal impacting against the wooden floor brought little tremors of pain to Yang's skull, her headache not entirely gone despite her recent cleansing session. Eventually she forced herself to stand and after quickly brushing her teeth to get rid of the puke taste. Not even bothering to check her appearance she stumbled into the kitchen, only to almost fall over in shock.

I must have won the lottery Yang thought, because I am officially the luckiest woman alive. Sitting in her kitchen, casually sipping a cup of coffee, was perhaps the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Snow white hair, held back by an intricately tied French braid, framed the clearest, coldest pair of ice blue eyes Yang had ever seen. Her skin was flawless: as pale as freshly fallen snow, the barest hint of a blush gracing both of her cheeks. The only thing marring this otherwise perfect image was a scar running vertically down one of her eyes.

After almost a minute of staring Yang forced her gaze away and noticed that the woman was wearing what looked to be some kind of armor. The entire body was encased in various bits of a dark grey metal, a large white snowflake emblazoned on her chest. At her right hip hung a long, thin sword that Yang assumed was some kind of rapier, while several knives were strapped to various places across the rest of her body.

Ok, apparently I picked up a cosplayer last night, Yang thought. Not even close to the weirdest person I've hit on, but definitely the hottest. Yang opened her mouth to speak but the stranger held up her hand, halting her before she could get a word out, before pointing to a waiting cup of coffee. Once again supremely grateful that the beauty sitting before her was so considerate, Yang grabbed the cup and sat at the table, willing to wait for the stranger to be ready to talk.

Taking a sip of coffee, her happy smile instantly morphed into a grimace. The coffee was as cold as ice. The stranger noticed her grimace and asked "What?"

"I hate cold coffee," was Yang's instant response, not even considering that it might hurt the other woman's feelings. Her fears were groundless however, as she only muttered "Figures" before turning back to the window, enjoying the view from Yang's apartment. Yang put the coffee into the microwave to heat up, grabbing it just before the microwave beeped. Now clutching the steaming cup she returned to table, resisting the urge to fidget nervously in her seat, lost as to how she should proceed.

Her blackout from hell had begun the moment she lost the bet to Pyrrha, since Mercury did actually have a girlfriend, a stunningly attractive beauty by the name of Cinder Fall. Thus Yang had to take a shot for every year that separated Mercury and Cinder, and then double the amount because of how attractive she was, which brought the count well into the double digit range. That was her last memory of the night, meaning Yang had no idea who the person in front of her even was, much less if they had done anything.

Yang endured the tense, uncomfortable atmosphere for almost a minute before she asked "So uh, did we do anything last night?"

The stranger sighed heavily, muttering "finally" before saying "Oh yeah, we did plenty. You stumbled in here, fell flat on the floor and didn't move. After I made sure you weren't dead I somehow managed to drag your heavy ass to bed, all the while enduring you drooling all over me. Then I spent the night awake, watching you to make sure you didn't die from fever or alcohol poisoning." Her tone was so venomous Yang was half convinced the girl had been drinking poison. Combined with the daggers the other girl was glaring at her, she was half surprised she didn't spontaneously combust on the spot.

After a moment to process, Yang swallowed her fears and asked "So then we didn't…"

"If you're asking whether or not we had sex, the answer is no," the white haired woman responded, not even bothering to look at her as she said it. Under her breath, almost too quiet for Yang to hear, she said "though I wouldn't have minded."

Yang leaned back into her chair, breathing a sigh of relief, partially because she hadn't wasted her first time on a drunken frenzy that she couldn't remember, but mostly because she still had her virginity at all. A small part of her, an endlessly hopeful part that refused to die no matter how much Yang drank, was still holding out hope that her first time was going to be with Blake. Despite the mounting evidence to the contrary.

On the other hand, I wonder what it would be like to get freaky with her Yang thought, once again looking at the girl sitting across from her. The more she gazed, the more she realized that she was the exact opposite of Blake. Hair, skin, even their eye color was about as different as you could possibly get. One a dark beauty, the other a pale enchantress, both equally enticing. Polar opposites, yet Yang found both of them almost equally attractive. Maybe I have a thing for the extreme ends of the spectrum?

The only thing apparently similar about them was their outward personalities: brittle, with an isolation that bordered on arrogance. Even now the girl remained silent, prompting Yang to ask "Wait, fever? I had a fever?"

"You had a fever" the stranger said slowly, as is speaking to a particularly stupid child, before continuing "And by the looks of it you still have one now."

But I feel fine temperature wise Yang thought, putting a hand to her forehead. Sure enough she was running at her usual heat level, somewhere between a furnace and a miniature sun. Without warning she grabbed the other girls hand and dragged it to her forehead, saying "See I'm not actually."

She was interrupted by the girls other hand coming straight at her face, making contact with a loud *slap,* followed by her attacker screaming "Unhand me, you brute."

Yang let the other girl's hand go, cradling the side of her face. It stung terribly, and based on prior experience was probably going to start swelling up like a balloon very soon. "Ok, no touching. Got it"

The shorter girl looked at her for a moment, her face expressionless, before she responded "Just give me some warning next time." As she said this her hand was slowly moving towards Yang's face, coming to rest against her forehead again. Her touch was feather light, fingertips barely touching the surface of her skin. The girls hand was freezing, the iciness made even more prominent by Yang's already hot body temperature, but all Yang could do was close her eyes and gently moan in delight. The five points of contact were slowly making her headache, which had been worsened by the slap, vanish. She unconsciously leaned forward until the girl's entire hand was pressed against her forehead, the coldness of her skin a soothing balm against her hangover pain.

After a few seconds of bliss the girl withdrew her hand, which brought back some of the headache pain, though considerably less than before. Yang opened her eyes to find the white haired girl regarding her, her face struggling to hold back a frown.

Now just remembering that she knew nothing about this girl, Yang rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment before saying "I'm really sorry, but I kind of don't remember your name," her eyes downcast as she spoke.

After a few seconds she looked back up to see the other girl's head tilted to one side, a curious expression on her face. After a moment she said "That's because I never told you. My name is Weiss."

"Oh, ok. Well I'm…" Yang tried to say, but was cut off by the other girl saying "Yang, I know. We met before."

"We did? Sorry, but I don't really remember. Last night is kind of a blur."

Weiss smacked her forehead with her hand, angrily muttering several phrases too softly for Yang to hear but the language did not sound like English. After a moment she raised her head and said "We met yesterday, at the museum. You kissed me." At she said the last part a light blush erupted on her cheeks while Yang was struggling to understand. The entire time she had been at the museum, the only people she had seen kissing each other were Blake and Ruby. Well she had kissed the statue….

Looking at Weiss once more, Yang stopped breathing. The girl in front of her was almost a dead ringer to that statue Yang had kissed yesterday. Ok. So either the statue came to life, which is completely insane, or Weiss has been stalking me and saw me kiss the statue Yang thought. Now fully awake and on guard, Yang once again regarded the total stranger still sitting in front of her with a light blush on her face. I just have to keep her talking for a little longer, excuse myself to the bathroom, and call the cops.

"Ok, so what, you're the statue from the museum and I brought you to life?" Yang asked, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible.

"No, I was simply residing inside the statue. But after you uh... kissed me, I became bound to you instead of the statue," Weiss said, her face and tone completely serious.

I'm sitting across from a total fucking psycho Yang thought. Now desperately trying to slowly edge her way towards the nearest frying pan or sharp object, the only thing on her mind was getting out of this situation with all her organs intact. In hopes of distracting Weiss, if that was her real name, Yang said "So, you're a ghost or something?"

Still completely serious, which revealed the true depths of her insanity; Weiss said "I am Weiss, goddess of the Nordic Pantheon, mistress of Ice and Snow."

Yang almost fell out of her chair from sheer incredulity. She had met some weird people before, but this made all of them seem completely sane by comparison. "Really, you're a goddess. Alright then, fucking prove it." Yang nearly screamed.

Weiss's face morphed into an expression of anger, but she said nothing. Instead one of her fingers reached out and lightly touched Yang's coffee cup. The entire cup instantly froze, coffee and all. Weiss casually knocked it off the table, where the entire thing shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, along with Yang's sanity.

Yang knew what she had just seen. Her eyes, now stretched so wide they had to be as big as dinner plates, had transmitted the scene before her and sent the information to her brain, same as always. But her brain was unable to process the information it was being sent, or maintain a single thought besides holy shit, holy shit. She stood up and backed as far away from Weiss as she could get, her back hitting one of the countertops by the sink.

Weiss stood up and wordlessly walked towards the sink, turning the hot water on full blast. She waited for almost a minute for the water to properly warm up, steam gently rising up by the end. Yang silently watched her the entire time, unable to take her eyes off of Weiss, a silent observer to what she was going to do next.

Weiss touched one finger to the stream of scalding water coming out of the sink. The stream of water instantly froze, turning into a massive icicle that stretched from the faucet to the bottom of the sink. She shut the hot water off and walked in front of Yang, standing far too close for comfort.

Weiss raised both of her hand up, slowly reaching for Yang's face. She's going to freeze me solid Yang thought. She knew she should run, knock her hands away, but her body was paralyzed by shock and fear. All she could do was shut her eyes, praying that her death would come swiftly.

Instead, she felt one gently touch her cheek while the other came to rest on her forehead, two point of cooling bliss on her hot skin. The pain of her headache and the girl's previous slap receded, fading to nothingness in a matter of seconds. Yang opened her eyes to see Weiss standing before her, and for the first time she realized how short Weiss actually was. The top of her head barely came up to Yang's collarbone.

Weiss regarded Yang for a second, her expression cold and serious, before a comforting smile appeared on her face. She stared straight into Yang's eyes and said "My name is Weiss, mistress of all ice and snow. Minor goddess of the Nordic Pantheon, daughter of Harbinger, lieutenant of Winter, she who brings the cold death. And you, Yang Xiao-Long, are my new chief priestess."

By the time she finished talking Yang's mind had gone almost entirely blank, her brain unable to comprehend a single thing she had been told, except for one question. She looked back at Weiss, and asked "For how long?"

The smile on Weiss's face never faltered, but her eyes told another story. Two pools of endless pain and soul-crushing sadness, they instinctively made Yang want to reach out and hug the smaller girl, who looked like she was about to break down sobbing.

Instead she remained frozen, unmoving as Weiss replied "Until one of us is claimed by Death's gentle embrace."

This may have horrendously spiraled out of my control…..

Feedback is always appreciated, good, bad or anything in between. Hope you guys enjoyed!