It was a thunderous crash that jolted Winter from her slumber.

The Specialist was on her feet in seconds, a hand resting on her sword's hilt, adrenaline flooding her veins as muscle memory prepared her for a fight. Her eyes darted to and fro, trying to locate the source of the noise, the attacker, but found… nothing. It took several seconds longer for her breathing to slow and her body to catch up to her mind, for her brain to accept that she wasn't under attack. That she was in the subterranean cafeteria of Atlas-Central General Hospital, one of the safest buildings in the Kingdom, with only a handful of morning shift workers for company.

With a weary sigh Winter removed her hand from the sword's hilt, using it to rub her brow. Despite the empty coffee cup before her she'd still managed to drift off, even in the cheap plastic chairs of the cafeteria. But Winter had barely slept for close to three days, leaping from one explosion-induced crisis to another, and the exhaustion of it all had finally caught up with her.

Shaking her head to clear out the lingering cobwebs, Winter glanced around, trying to find out what had snapped her awake. She spotted it a moment later, on the other side of the cafeteria, where two nurses were cleaning up a tray full of food one of them had dropped. Exhaustion was getting to everyone, apparently, not that she could blame them.

Winter tossed her napkin and the wrapper of a muffin into her Styrofoam cup, sweeping a few errant crumbs from the table as she rose. She winced slightly as she moved, the back of her neck already punishing her for her choice of sleeping positions. She figured it'd count as penance for having dozed off unexpectedly. A quick glance at her Scroll confirmed that the world hadn't fallen apart in the hour or so she'd been dead to it, but the slip-up still irked her. Anyone who called Weiss Schnee a perfectionist had obviously never met her sister.

Winter straightened out the wrinkles in her coat as best she could and made her way out of the cafeteria, through the labyrinthine corridors of Atlas-Central. The hospital was one of the largest and most sophisticated in all of Atlas, if not Remnant, and two of its wings bore her family name. Still, a hospital was a hospital, and Winter couldn't shake her instinctive aversion to them. The lighting was always stark, the aroma antiseptic, the atmosphere depressed. She took an elevator up six floors, nurses or technicians or family members getting on and off at each level on the way. From there she strolled down linoleum-tiled corridors, walking past room after room of the sick and injured. It was still very early in the morning and every door was shut and all the curtains drawn, the patients making some attempt to sleep despite the constant buzz of activity around them.

She reached her destination a minute later, glancing at the whiteboard affixed to the door, where the name SCHNEE was written in dark blue marker. Ears trained to catch the rustling of hidden Grimm had no trouble detecting a murmured conversation from within, and Winter instantly homed in on it.

"No, I don't believe the attack will have any effect at all, and you can quote me on that," said the voice, young and feminine. There was a pause. "Okay, here's your quote: I have the utmost confidence that the actions of a few terrorists will in no way impede the signing of the Faunus Equality Conventions. If anything, these heinous attacks only serve as further proof as to why the Conventions must be signed, and reinforce our commitment to seeing them finalized."

Winter didn't bother knocking as she swung the door open, strolling in with a faint scowl on her face. She crossed the threshold into the small room, though by the standards of a hospital it was still rather spacious. Winter had no doubt that her sister was getting special treatment, not that she was going to protest.

She was, however, going to object to her sister violating her doctor's prescription of twenty-four hours of work-free rest.

Weiss caught her sister's eye as soon as the door swung open, raising one hand to keep her at bay, flashing Winter the IV line still threaded into her arm in the process. She gestured to the phone held against her ear, before breaking eye contact.

"My support for Head-, excuse me, Councilor Ozpin remains unchanged," Weiss said, answering a question that Winter couldn't hear. "I'll have to refer you to his office if you want a proper statement, though. Ask for either Goodwitch or Arc."

Winter strolled to the foot of her sister's bed, crossing her arms expectantly, though Weiss refused to meet her gaze. "As I already said, this was a cowardly attack by racial extremists, whom we will not allow to impede diplomacy through violence." Weiss paused, her brow furrowing as she listened to the reporter on the other end. "Okay, off-the-record? I have already denounced this group ad nauseam and I'm getting a little sick of the insinuations being tossed around by the Fourth Estate. Several people I consider my closest friends were injured in the attack, not to mention me. I'm aware that some associates of my Father have been implicated as sponsors of these terrorists, but just because they call themselves the 'Snow Werewolves' does not make them affiliated with either the Schnee Family or the Schnee Dust Company."

Winter understood Weiss' annoyance. In the past year a few discontented humans had rallied under the banner of the 'Snow Werewolves', a name that was so juvenile it would have been comical, had they not rapidly morphed into a serious terrorist threat. The name turned out to be more apt than anyone could have foreseen. Like the monsters whose names they took, the terrorists were overwhelmingly ordinary people by day - bankers, accountants, carpenters, teachers. But once night fell they were capable of horrendous acts of violence, of barbarity in the name of civilization. Their moniker became only more problematic when everyone began insinuating that, because 'Schnee' meant 'Snow' in the Classical Mantle dialect, the group must be affiliated with them. It was preposterous to the point of absurdity - did people really believe that terrorists engaged in tongue-in-cheek wordplay? - but it had been causing PR nightmares for months now.

"I am doing everything in my power to root out anyone in the Schnee Dust Company who might harbor sympathies for these radicals, regardless of their position or family connections. Need I remind you that we have already publicly fired several employees just for making inflammatory statements. My Father's name is not a ward of protection, and tomorrow morning I will be briefed on preliminary investigations into the security failures at the Hall." Weiss paused, listening to the voice on the other end of the line, then rolled her eyes. "Fine. You can quote me as 'a senior executive in the Schnee Dust Company who is familiar with Weiss Schnee's intentions'. Happy?"

Weiss slammed her Scroll shut with a faint snarl. "I'm sorry, Winter, that was Cyril Ian with VNN. I needed to give them something or they'll be running around like decapitated chickens for the rest of the news cycle." She scratched at where the IV was taped to her skin. "I wish we could've handled this with a televised interview, but I'm afraid I'm not at my most photogenic right now."

Weiss smiled faintly at her own joke, but Winter didn't. The youngest Schnee picked up on that, albeit a moment too late to brace herself for the scolding that was to follow.

"Weiss Schnee," declared Winter, speaking for the first time since she'd entered the hospital room. "You were given strict instructions not to engage in any work for - at a bare minimum - twenty-four hours following your procedure. We are now-" Winter glanced at a clock resting above the door's threshold, "three hours and twenty-seven minutes into that day. I will not tolerate my sister jeopardizing her recovery for the sake of a press statement."

Weiss huffed, refusing to apologize, but she blushed a little all the same. Winter held out her hand expectantly, and Weiss begrudgingly surrendered her Scroll. If there was one person on Remnant who Weiss could never properly argue with, it was her sister. Winter tucked the Scroll into her longcoat's inner pocket a moment later, before pulling up a chair next to Weiss.

"I'm not some ninety-year old grandma who can't be exposed to loud noises or bright lights," sulked Weiss, as she sunk into the pillows propped up behind her. "It's just a gunshot wound."

Winter didn't often crave alcohol, but this was one of those moments. "'Just' a gunshot wound?" she repeated, her voice dry as sand.

Weiss' blush deepened. "I'm still a Huntress, Winter, even if I spend most of my days behind a desk. My Aura will heal this in no time."

"Mm," replied Winter. "The Aura which you - somehow - managed to completely deplete, drained so low it won't fully recharge for days?"

Weiss had no rebuttal to that, and sunk further into the pillows. But Winter declined to press her advantage, instead returning to her own Scroll. It turned out terrorist attacks generated a considerable amount of paperwork.

Weiss managed to go a whole minute before her sulking became verbal.

"I'm bored."

Winter cocked an eyebrow at that, though she didn't look up from her screen.

"Can I have my Scroll back?"

"Tomorrow," Winter promised, feeling a migraine gestating beneath her skull. "I'm not allowing you to over-exert yourself, not after that stunt you pulled in the Hall. Remnant will have to cope without you for a few more hours."

Weiss groaned. "Wiiiiiiinter. You have to entertain me then."

The head of Atlas Special Operations sighed. "I'm beginning to remember why Father was so reluctant to send you to Beacon in the first place. It was horrible for your self-discipline."

"Blame my teammates," Weiss replied. She certainly did. The number of improper speech habits she'd picked up from Ruby and Yang was chilling.

Winter strolled over to Weiss' handbag, which was resting beside another chair, sifting through its contents until she found the paperback within. "I saw this in your bag earlier," said Winter, tossing her sister the book. "I didn't peg you for the type."

The book landed on her lap, Weiss eying it suspiciously. It took a moment for her brain to process the title. Ninjas of Love Volume 57: Escape from The Glass House.

"Yang," she hissed, through gritted teeth. "She thinks it's funny to hide Blake's smut on me."

Winter let out an amused snort. "No need to get defensive, Weiss," she teased. "Everyone has a guilty pleasure, I won't judge yours. And besides, I thought you were bored."

"I said bored, not depraved."

Weiss let out a defeated sigh, pulling the blankets back up around her. She certainly could ask Winter to get her something proper from the hospital's small shop, maybe a nice history book she could lose herself in, but her sister was typing a mile-a-minute on her Scroll, and it seemed petty to interrupt her work.

…Three knocks on the bedroom door jolted Weiss from her daydreams.

"Who is it?" Weiss called out, even as Winter stood up to answer the door.

"Snow Werewolf assassin, here to finish the job," a cheery, high-pitched voice called back.

"Thank the Maidens, I'm bored."

Winter rolled her eyes as she opened the door, revealing a grinning Ruby Rose, both hands full with a veritable tower of boxed confectionaries. Winter stood aside to let Ruby enter, shaking her head as she did.

"I think your humor's getting a little dark," noted Weiss, as Ruby carefully placed the stack of boxes at the foot of her bed. Dust, it's almost as tall as her.

Ruby ignored her, leaning across the bed to peck Weiss on her lips. The younger Huntress had been with Weiss right up until they'd rolled her into the surgical theater, stabilizing Weiss' Aura with her own. The doctors had then performed a fairly minor operation, removing any embedded pieces of metal that might have impeded Weiss' Aura. It said something about the lives of Huntsmen that they knew which gunshot wounds were life-threatening and which were just bloody inconveniences.

"How're you feeling?" Ruby asked, eyes wandering over the IV feed.

"Well, I was shot," Weiss replied, though her glibness was answer enough. Even the trickles of Aura she'd recharged had been enough to fix most of her wounded flesh. And her girlfriend had just supplied her with an alternative to the life-threatening hospital food. Ruby giggled a little at Weiss' joke and gave her another kiss. "Have you already seen Blake and Yang?" Weiss asked.

"Yup," answered Ruby, popping her p. "Everyone's perfectly healthy."

Weiss breathed a small sigh of relief, as negligible as the risk had been. She collected herself a moment later. "And it's a…?"

"…Secret?" Ruby offered in answer. Weiss scowled.

"You know." It was a statement, not a question.

"I know," Ruby confirmed. "But it's really not for me to say."

"When did you become so cruel?" Weiss groused.

Ruby snorted a little, running a hand through Weiss' hair. "It's cool to visit them, if you wanna."

"Of course I want to!" Weiss snapped back, through Ruby's grin didn't waver. "Just help me out of bed."

"Oh, um... is that okay, Winter?" asked Ruby, turning to the elder Schnee. Weiss let out an aggravated sigh. Ruby might be negligent to the point of recklessness with her own health, but she was positively dictatorial when it came to Weiss'. "I don't want Weiss straining herself."

"Et tu, Ruby?" groaned Weiss, wishing she had her Scroll back if only so she could bludgeon the Huntress with it.

"I'll go check with the nurses, " said Winter, acquiescing to Weiss' request. She might have been able to confiscate her sister's Scroll, but she had no desire to stand between Weiss and her team. "I'm sure we can find a wheelchair for you."

Ruby gave Weiss another peck as soon as Winter left, then pulled up close to Weiss' bed. "You saved the day again," she said, whispering in her partner's ear. "The delegation would definitely be super-dead if you hadn’t leapt in there." Ruby finger's gently brushed a few strands of snow white hair off of Weiss' brow.

"I'm sorry I stole your superhero moment," teased Weiss in reply, even as her eyes drifted shut at the softness of her lover's touch.

"It's okay," Ruby answered. "It just means I get to lecture you for being reckless for, like, a year."

Weiss grunted, having no desire to be on the receiving end of the nagging she so habitually pelted Ruby with. "Just do as I say, not as I do," she grumbled.

The door swung open a moment later, Winter pushing a wheelchair into the room. Weiss sighed, then groaned in pain as she swung her legs over the bed's railing. "I can walk," she stated, steadying herself against her IV stand.

Ruby and Winter exchanged looks. "Well… you can hobble," Ruby corrected, as Weiss took a few stuttering steps forward. The IV stand had wheels, so Weiss could walk by leaning herself against it, though it was hardly the most dignified look.

"Just sit down," instructed Winter, her tone equal parts imperiousness and exhaustion. Weiss reluctantly complied, doing her best to straighten out her hospital gown. At least in the early morning hours there wouldn't be many passers-by, she hoped.

Ruby claimed the honor of wheeling Weiss around, though only after she promised not to use her Semblance at any point during the trip. Winter took that as her cue to stop babysitting her younger sister, excusing herself under the pretense of a phone call.

"I heard all our friends are pretty much fine," said Ruby, making idle small-talk as they wound their way through the hospital. One of Weiss' hands gripped her IV stand, wheeling it alongside her. "I didn't really see what was happening in Frontenac Hall, though."

"CFVY was front-and-center, they actually did most of the heavy lifting," Weiss replied. "I heard Fox and Coco were being patched up downstairs, but it's nothing serious. Did you hear from Ren and Nora?"

"Mm-hm," confirmed Ruby. "They actually both dropped by earlier to check-in on Blake, but they had to get back to the hotel. Can you believe this was supposed to be a family vacation for them?"

"Remind me to book them a nice cruise somewhere, in apology." Preferably one she could join them on. Ruby, Yang and Blake had all managed to catch up with the couple, but Weiss had been bogged-down ensuring the Conventions were on-track to be ratified.

Ruby finally rolled her to a stop a moment later, Weiss peering at the name scrawled in black on the whiteboard. BELADONA. She was fighting a powerful urge to find a marker and make the correction herself.

Ruby slipped into the room, leaving Weiss stranded in her wheelchair outside. She'd have rolled herself in, but the door was heavy and had a large handle, and she had serious reservations as to whether she could force it open while propped up against her IV stand. Straining her ears she could just barely make out the conversation within, or at least, the part where Yang said, 'Speak of the devil'.

She was about to attempt to force her way in, her questionable bipedalism notwithstanding, had Ruby not emerged shortly before her attempt began.

"They want you to close your eyes," the Huntress relayed, grinning.

Weiss huffed. "What is this, my birthday?"

Ruby snorted. "If it is, I am in serious trouble," she teased. Weiss scowled. "Come on. Please?"

"Oh alright," Weiss relented, closing her eyes. Honestly, it seemed like you get shot once and everyone started treating you like a ten-year old again.

She abided by her promise to keep her eyes shut, but her ears parsed the noise for clues regardless. Her own squeaky wheelchair, bouncing on the small lip of the threshold. Someone taking a small step back, their shoe scuffing against the linoleum. The rustling of bedsheets.

Ruby rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

It was Blake's voice speaking, catching Weiss off-guard. Her eyes opened. Blake Belladonna lay in a bed next to her, clothed in the same generic hospital gown as Weiss. Her partner's hair was a tangled mess, her skin still flush from exhaustion, her bow nowhere to be seen. Blake adjusted herself slightly on the bed, tilting towards Weiss to reveal arms protectively cradling an infant wrapped in blankets.

"Hello, there," cooed Weiss, with a softness that surprised even Ruby. The baby was practically mummified in cloth, swaddled tight, and fast asleep. Almost impossibly small, young enough to have an age still counted in hours. Blake's Faunus heritage was already apparent: a second set of ears, pointed and pink, protruded from its head. "And what's your name?"

"She," Blake supplied, gently, "is called Snow."

Weiss blinked.

"What."

"Snow Belladonna," repeated Yang, speaking for the first time since Weiss had entered. She was seated in a chair on the other side of Blake's bed, rings of fatigue etched under her eyes, but Weiss had never seen her smile shine more brightly than at that moment.

"You lose the coin toss, sis?" teased Ruby. Unlike Weiss, she'd had the benefit of already being introduced to Snow, and had had several hours of acclimatization to the extreme levels of adorableness. "Or does Snow Xiao Long just not roll off the tongue as well?"

"Hm? Nah, nothing like that," said Yang, her hand finding the back of Blake's neck and rubbing it gently. Both had been awake for the better part of two days now, though it barely showed. "Blake just wanted to make sure there's another generation of Belladonnas." Blake blushed a little at that, but Yang just shrugged. "It's okay. I get naming rights to the next three in exchange."

"We are so far from even beginning to conceptualize having that conversation," replied Blake, though the smile never left her face.

"Hey-a, Weiss? Remnant to Weiss?" said Ruby, belatedly realizing that her girlfriend was apparently shell-shocked. "You still with us?"

"You named your daughter Snow," Weiss repeated.

"Yup," Yang answered, popping the p.

"'Schnee' being Classical Mantle for 'Snow'."

"Huh. What a weird coincidence."

"Blake, you can't name your daughter after the Schnees."

"Drat, already signed the paperwork," the blonde continued.

"She's a Faunus. That's absurd."

"Once upon a time, perhaps," Blake finally replied, adjusting the position of Snow in her arms. "But I recall you once saying you wouldn't let your Father define your family's name." She shuffled slightly. "It only seems fair to return the favor."

"I think it's pretty cute," murmured Ruby, her head nuzzling against Weiss'.

"This isn't something we did as a drunken bet, Weiss," said Yang, dropping the pretense of coincidence. "And to be completely honest… I was kind of against it at first."

"You were?" asked Ruby, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," Yang confessed, sounding more than a little embarrassed. "Don't take this the wrong way, Weiss, you're like the successful sister I never had-"

"Hey!"

"- but now that Classic Mantle is apparently in vogue… It's making a statement. And on her behalf." Lilac eyes darted over to Snow, who was still slumbering contentedly.

"After the Great War," began Blake, "we started naming children after colors. We wanted them to never forget that they're individuals." She spoke her words carefully and deliberately, having evidently given them some forethought. "Maybe it's not quite the same, but I think that we can still choose names that speak to what we want the future to hold. Names that belong in a world more peaceful than our own."

Weiss was silent for a long moment, just drinking in the sight of the newborn Snow before her. The way her ears twitched a little. Weiss wondered if infants dreamed. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner," she finally said.

"Well, you were kind of busy getting shot," Yang interjected. "That's a freebie."

"You've changed a lot, Weiss, both yourself and Remnant," said Blake. "You showed the world that you'd treat the Snow Werewolves just as harshly as the White Fang. And most importantly: you proved that we can be so much more than the continuation of our parents' beliefs."

"Thank you, Blake," Weiss murmured.

"Plus, the Conventions would never have happened without the SDC twisting every arm from here to Mistral," Yang added. "You got shot for the Conventions, Weiss. We figured that's worth a name or two."

Weiss was spared having to come up with an intelligent response by the sound of a knocking on the door. "It's unlocked," she called out, belatedly glancing at Yang and Blake for permission, though the blonde waved away her concerns.

When the door swung open, everyone was smiling.

"Ren! Nora!" Weiss was genuinely surprised to see the two here, despite just having talked to Ruby about them. She certainly hadn't expected them to show up at the hospital again. She blinked away her shock. Neither Ren nor Nora looked exactly like how she'd remembered them, the years since their last parting visible on their faces, even if they'd exchanged countless photos in the interregnum. They'd been visiting Atlas, and Weiss had been planning a reunion dinner, their first meal together in years. Something to celebrate with once all the diplomatic wrangling was behind her. The attack, though, had thrown everyone's plans to the winds.

Ruby and Nora exchanged hugs that threatened to shatter Aura and bone, while Weiss and Ren made polite gestures of acknowledgement. Not that Ren was spared one of Ruby's embraces, of course, nor Weiss being practically tackled by Nora, her wheelchair threatening to topple over.

"I've missed you so much, Weiss," said Nora, squeezing with a fiery passion that hadn't cooled over the years.

"I missed you, too," Weiss replied, once Nora released her and she could finally breathe again. "To think, all it took was a terrorist attack to get us all in the same room again." She paused, glancing at the door now that the redhead was no longer atop her. "And who do we have here?"

Everyone turned to look at the small figure standing tentatively at the threshold, leaning against the frame of the door for support.

Nora's smile softened a little, changing from her usual expression of manic energy to something more gentle, more tender. "I don't believe the two of you have met," she said, speaking slowly and quietly.

Nora walked over to the door and took the hand of the young girl, guiding her into the room. The girl was quiet but seemed unafraid, easily meeting Weiss' gaze. She appeared

to get her looks from her mother, bright red hair and deep green eyes, though her demeanor was closer to her father's. "Weiss, this is our daughter."

"Hello, Miss Weiss," the girl murmured, softly and a little stiltedly, but with remarkable enunciation for her age. Then she stood up straight. "My name is Pyrrha Valkyrie."

There had never been any debate in Nora's mind as to what her firstborn was going to be called. Boy or girl, that child would carry the name Pyrrha. Nora knew that in doing so she was creating a burden for her child, challenging them to live up to the legacy of the most heroic soul she'd ever encountered. She knew that it was a choice that could very well shape a life. But she hadn't hesitated when asked to provide the name for the daughter she ushered into the world, one evening on the cusp of autumn.

Weiss nodded, softly. "Hello, Pyrrha. My name is Weiss Schnee. I'm glad to finally meet you. You have…" She was suddenly biting back tears, and Ruby's hand found hers, squeezing it hard. Memories that had faded with time came back with searing intensity, visceral and raw. She'd already known of Nora's choice, had seen photos of the young redhead, had thought herself ready for this. "You have…You have…"

"You have a very pretty name," said Ruby, finishing her lover's sentence. Weiss nodded at that, but didn't dare speak.

"I was named after a Huntress," the girl declared, proudly, and her parents beamed at that. So did Ruby. So did Weiss.

For now Pyrrha Valkyrie was still too young to understand who she was named after, or why, at least in any meaningful sense. But that wouldn't last forever, of course, and Weiss doubted her parents were going to sugar-coat anything when she started asking questions. But for all the challenges her name entitled Weiss had little doubt that Pyrrha Valkyrie would rise to meet them.

"Is that your baby?" asked Pyrrha, looking straight at Blake. The noise actually startled Weiss, but Blake grinned and nodded. "Can I see?"

Nora glanced over at the new parents, but Yang was already nodding. "Sure thing, Pyr. Come on up." The little girl scrambled over, climbing onto a nearby chair. Ruby moved herself to be in a position to catch her if she fell, though the girl seemed to have inherited her parents' natural athleticism.

Pyrrha Valkyrie leaned over Snow Belladonna, and Ruby let out a squeal so high-pitched it shifted out of Weiss' auditory range. "Oh my gods they are so cute together."

Weiss sniffled, then turned accusingly to Yang. "You planned this, didn't you! Having Pyrrha and Snow together, and everyone teaming up on me, so I couldn't object to your choice of name!"

Blake rolled her eyes. "Yes, because I definitely planned to give birth five days past my delivery date, just as Ren and Nora were in town."

Weiss said nothing, simply holding Ruby's hand, her throat tightening. Watching Pyrrha watch Snow. Watching Yang and Blake, and Ren and Nora, and the love on all their faces. At the lives they'd managed to live and create, despite everything destiny had thrown at them.

"Almost makes you dare to hope," said Yang, leaning back in her chair. "Doesn't it, Weiss?"

Weiss nodded, steadying herself with the grip of Ruby's hand on hers.

"Do you mind if… mind if I say something?" Weiss asked, of no one in particular.

Expressions ranging from confusion to amusement flashed across her friends' faces. Yang was about to make a joke about the long-winded lectures Weiss had once been in the habit of delivering to them, but caught herself at the last minute. She could make that joke anytime. "Sure thing, Weiss."

"Pyrrha… Snow?" Pyrrha looked up at Weiss, expectantly, though Snow remained steadfastly asleep. "You came into this world at a very turbulent time. There are a lot of bad people trying to do a lot of bad things." Fewer now, yes, but still far too many. "You're both named after… named after people who have tried to stop them. Change things for the better." She fumbled for words. "By the time you're grown up, if we've done our jobs right, there won't be any bad guys left. Maybe we'll get them all, maybe we won't." She paused, finding the steel within herself. "But I won't… but I won't let anyone hurt you, no matter what. You have my vow that I am going to do everything in my power to make a world safe for you."

Ruby's hand drifted down Weiss' back, unthinkingly, finding the bandages still plastered over pale skin. Yang's fingers combed Blake's hair. Nora leaned on Ren. Pyrrha nodded, understanding the meaning if not the weight of the words.

Snow started crying, breaking the silence, and snapping them all back to reality. Ren scooped up Pyr, giving Blake the space she needed. Yang began rifling through an oversized duffel bag for something.

"They're good names," Ruby said, speaking softly, so only Weiss could hear. "We all met Pyr at that lunch you had to miss. I can already tell that it fits her." Weiss could only nod. "I don't think Blake's making a mistake, either."

"I know," murmured Weiss.

"And if we can't make that new world, the safe and peaceful one you guys talked about…I'm pretty sure they will."