Future Whitley and Ruby
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AndrewJTalon
Experienced.
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The training hall at Beacon was quiet after curfew, moonlight spilling through the high windows like spilled milk. Most of the dummies were already in pieces; the only thing still standing was the man who had done it.
Whitley Schnee (older, harder, white coat scorched black at the hem) stood with Myrtenaster sheathed at his hip and a black glyph spinning slowly at his feet. In its center hovered a translucent figure in red: cloak tattered, scythe resting across her shoulders, silver eyes dim but unmistakable.
Ruby Rose. Not quite the girl who was currently sneaking cookies from the cafeteria. This one was older, tired, smiling the way people do when they've already said goodbye.
Young Ruby stood in the doorway, half-hidden behind the frame, clutching a plate of chocolate chip like a shield. She had followed the sound of weapons fire. She hadn't expected this.
The summon noticed her first. Ghost-Ruby's head tilted, expression softening in a way that made present-Ruby's heart stutter.
Whitley didn't turn around.
"She's beautiful when she fights," he said to the empty air. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn't used it for anything but screaming in years. "Even like this. Especially like this."
The glyph pulsed. The summon knelt, scythe dissolving into cherry blossoms that drifted upward and vanished.
Young Ruby took one careful step inside. "So… um… you and the… the future me fight really, really well together."
Whitley's shoulders rose and fell. "Yes."
"You two have a lot of practice, huh?"
A humourless sound, almost a laugh. "Yes."
Ruby bit her lip hard enough to leave crescents. "You look…" She searched for a gentle word and couldn't find one. "You look like my dad does when he talks about my mom."
Whitley finally faced her. The scar across his left cheek, white hair hacked short with a knife, eyes the same icy blue they'd always been but cracked all the way through.
"Right," he said.
Ruby's voice dropped to a whisper. "I… You must not want to be around me, huh?"
He closed his eyes. For a moment he looked twenty years older than he was. "It's complicated."
"I'll bet."
She hesitated only a second longer, then crossed the floor in a rush and wrapped her arms around his waist like she could squeeze the grief out of him.
Whitley stiffened. "You don't have to—"
"Oh yes I do," Ruby said fiercely into his coat. "Shut up and let me hug you."
"You don't get to tell me what to—"
"Tough! I'm not letting go."
He tried one more time, weaker. "Stubborn brat."
"No you."
The fight leaked out of him all at once. His head bowed, forehead pressing to the top of her hair. One gloved hand came up, trembling, and settled on her back as though she were made of glass.
Behind them, the summon watched with that same small, sad smile. She lifted a hand in silent blessing, then faded into red light that soaked into Whitley's glyph and was gone.
Ruby felt warm tears that weren't hers soak into her hood.
"I killed her," Whitley whispered against her hair, so quietly she almost missed it. "She asked me to. Said it was the only way to save what was left. I… I put my sword through her heart and burned the body so Salem's dogs couldn't have it."
Ruby's arms tightened.
"I see her every time I close my eyes," he went on, voice splintering. "Every time I summon her she looks at me like she's proud. Like I did the right thing. I don't know how she still looks at me like that."
Ruby pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. "Because she loved you, dummy. And love doesn't stop just because you're an idiot who did something horrible to save the world."
He laughed then, a cracked, wet sound, and pressed his face into her shoulder again so she wouldn't see him cry.
Ruby held on. Cookies forgotten on the floor, moonlight catching on silver eyes, one pair bright and alive, the other only memory.
Somewhere in the distance, Beacon's bell tower chimed two in the morning. Neither of them moved.
Whitley Schnee (older, harder, white coat scorched black at the hem) stood with Myrtenaster sheathed at his hip and a black glyph spinning slowly at his feet. In its center hovered a translucent figure in red: cloak tattered, scythe resting across her shoulders, silver eyes dim but unmistakable.
Ruby Rose. Not quite the girl who was currently sneaking cookies from the cafeteria. This one was older, tired, smiling the way people do when they've already said goodbye.
Young Ruby stood in the doorway, half-hidden behind the frame, clutching a plate of chocolate chip like a shield. She had followed the sound of weapons fire. She hadn't expected this.
The summon noticed her first. Ghost-Ruby's head tilted, expression softening in a way that made present-Ruby's heart stutter.
Whitley didn't turn around.
"She's beautiful when she fights," he said to the empty air. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn't used it for anything but screaming in years. "Even like this. Especially like this."
The glyph pulsed. The summon knelt, scythe dissolving into cherry blossoms that drifted upward and vanished.
Young Ruby took one careful step inside. "So… um… you and the… the future me fight really, really well together."
Whitley's shoulders rose and fell. "Yes."
"You two have a lot of practice, huh?"
A humourless sound, almost a laugh. "Yes."
Ruby bit her lip hard enough to leave crescents. "You look…" She searched for a gentle word and couldn't find one. "You look like my dad does when he talks about my mom."
Whitley finally faced her. The scar across his left cheek, white hair hacked short with a knife, eyes the same icy blue they'd always been but cracked all the way through.
"Right," he said.
Ruby's voice dropped to a whisper. "I… You must not want to be around me, huh?"
He closed his eyes. For a moment he looked twenty years older than he was. "It's complicated."
"I'll bet."
She hesitated only a second longer, then crossed the floor in a rush and wrapped her arms around his waist like she could squeeze the grief out of him.
Whitley stiffened. "You don't have to—"
"Oh yes I do," Ruby said fiercely into his coat. "Shut up and let me hug you."
"You don't get to tell me what to—"
"Tough! I'm not letting go."
He tried one more time, weaker. "Stubborn brat."
"No you."
The fight leaked out of him all at once. His head bowed, forehead pressing to the top of her hair. One gloved hand came up, trembling, and settled on her back as though she were made of glass.
Behind them, the summon watched with that same small, sad smile. She lifted a hand in silent blessing, then faded into red light that soaked into Whitley's glyph and was gone.
Ruby felt warm tears that weren't hers soak into her hood.
"I killed her," Whitley whispered against her hair, so quietly she almost missed it. "She asked me to. Said it was the only way to save what was left. I… I put my sword through her heart and burned the body so Salem's dogs couldn't have it."
Ruby's arms tightened.
"I see her every time I close my eyes," he went on, voice splintering. "Every time I summon her she looks at me like she's proud. Like I did the right thing. I don't know how she still looks at me like that."
Ruby pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. "Because she loved you, dummy. And love doesn't stop just because you're an idiot who did something horrible to save the world."
He laughed then, a cracked, wet sound, and pressed his face into her shoulder again so she wouldn't see him cry.
Ruby held on. Cookies forgotten on the floor, moonlight catching on silver eyes, one pair bright and alive, the other only memory.
Somewhere in the distance, Beacon's bell tower chimed two in the morning. Neither of them moved.