Weiss had actually done it. She had defeated Jaune in one-on-one combat. All of her training with Nora on how to deal with sturdier opponents had really paid off in that she had actually taken down one of her teammates. Keeping her distance and relying on her special abilities went far in whittling away Jaune's aura before a well-timed gravity dust slam took him down.

What still pained her about that fight was her failure in the usage of the time dilation dust. Thankfully the mistake had only cost her a missed attack, but it wasn't one Weiss could make again. She could never know when the next life-threatening situation would happen. When I get back to Beacon, I'll need to train that more.

Stumbling into her dressing room, she collapsed back into her chair. Klein was still in there, having watched the match on the television hanging up in the corner. "You were simply stunning, Miss Schnee!" His eyes flashed fiery red as he practically shouted this out. "That was a wonderful application of your gravity dust. He never knew what hit him."

"Thanks, Klein," Weiss responded dryly, brushing off the means of success. She felt proud of the fact that she had proved to her father that her enrollment into Beacon was something to be continued, especially how she was able to dispatch an opponent as well-known and powerful as Jaune Arc. However, she was guilty about the fact that she had to defeat a friend, especially one as close as one of Team PRJN.

"Is something wrong?" His eyes quickly faded to blue as he placed a water bottle on the table sitting just next to her. "You seem… distant, Miss Schnee. Not completely like yourself."

"It's just…" Weiss trailed off, taking a sip of water and then shaking her head to try and clear her mind. She quickly shelved the failure of the dust into the back of it and focused instead on the matter at hand. "I had to take on and defeat a friend for the sake of my own skin. I've always hated using others for my own gain. I felt like my father for a moment, using those I've begun to care about to advance myself."

"And, that's where you're different from your father." Klein's voice softened further, a more morose tone coming to it as he continued to speak. "You care about those around you. I've seen it ever since you were little, how you tried to protect little Master Whitley from the advances of your father, and even in trying to help Mistress Winter when she did leave. Please, just remember, for your sake, that it's fine if you only save one person. And, it's fine if that one person is yourself, Miss Schnee."

"Alright, Klein." Weiss tried her best to take his comments in stride. Even if that was an old Atlesian maxim, it was still a bit cheesy to hear from her butler. "I'll try to keep that in mind. Thank you… for every bit of your service to the Schnee family."

Her servant simply nodded, acknowledging her sincerity in thanking him. "It has been and will continue to be, my pleasure to serve you, Miss Schnee. I helped raise your mother, and it is the greatest gift to my eyes to see you become a fine young woman. You are becoming more like your mother with every day that passes." He looked at his watch, checking the time. "I have to go help prepare the ship for departure, Weiss. I will see you in a little while."

With his departure, Weiss was not at all surprised at the utterance of her actual name. She had always insisted that he use her actual name, but it was always… difficult getting him to do so. Trained by decades of service under her mother and her father, Klein had issues with calling those he served by their given names.

But, now, she had time to reflect on his words and the match itself. She was glad that she won and that the gravity dust paid off- that dust was not one she had used in a while, and she was unsure if it would actually work as intended. The fact that her father wasn't angrily storming into the room, screaming for the price of Beacon and how little she'd improved in his eyes… gave her a sense of relief. Taking a sip of water, she finally relaxed in the silence of the room. Nothing but the sound of her quiet breath, of her swallows, and the calm revolutions of the fan above her broke the complete silence.

Weiss sighed. At least I didn't anger him… we're already on thin ice already, and I can not afford to anger him further. He didn't even bring mother… the nerve of him, leaving her at home to drown her sorrows… As much as her anger flared, she had to keep it contained. A proper public appearance was to be maintained at all times, as much as she wanted to silence her father for all that he'd done to damage the family line. He probably thinks the same of me.

A message popped up on her scroll, which rested on the table where she left it, breaking her trance. It told her that everyone was expecting her to arrive at the loading dock to take her back to Atlas. Finally… She packed her scroll into her bag, collapsing it so that it would fit, and put the bag over her shoulder.

Turning off the lights in the dressing room, she quickly walked down the twisting hallways of the stadium, avoiding and ignoring all who asked for an autograph or tried to pursue her. Weiss Schnee had only one goal in her mind as she raced towards the landing pad outside.

She was going home.


"You did your best, Jaune. That's all we can ask." His mother tried her best to cheer him up after any losses he had, which were few and far between. Usually, he only lost against people much older and stronger than him, when he'd been put up against them to show how well he could cope. "That's all we can ask."

"It's just… I've always hated these trips, mom," Jaune sighed, looking down on the match going on in the box above them. They were obligated to stay the entire time, and could only finally go home once it was all over. "With the people and the parties, boring as they are. I only get satisfaction here from these damned exhibition matches…"

"Watch your language around your family, young man!" His father exclaimed, a tinge of disappointment etched on his face. "You are an Arc. We do not lower ourselves to such vulgarity. Now, you need to watch the match so you can get better. We sent you to Beacon to learn from the best and to get better, did we not?"

"Yes, you did, dad," Jaune conceded. "You sent me to Beacon to learn. I've made wonderful friends there, like the girl I fought and-" He tried to continue, but his father interrupted him.

"I will concede good connections are vital to a successful life afterward but you need to put your eyes on improving your skill." His father remained steadfast on the improvement of skill. "I only want what's best for you, Jaune. You have big shoes to fill if the cause ever arises. You need to continue watching the match."

And so, Jaune did. Moving up to the window, he stood with his face practically smacked in front of the glass. He tuned out of the rest of the conversation going on behind him as he watched the match. It was decently refreshing, with two older Huntsmen fighting it out. One was a gigantic warrior who wielded a broadsword while the other seemed to be a monkish figure who fought with a solid wooden staff.

The fight was rather eventful, with both fights preferring a more physical style. Jaune drifted towards the lighter character, who seemed to be more on the defensive most of the time. The monk avoided hits while the warrior soaked them up. Clash after clash, and it seemed that they were both content to whittle down each other's aura.

Neither had even used their Semblances yet… if they had any. Jaune tried to predict their respective semblances, thinking ahead in case he ever had to do so. So… the monk could have an augmentation semblance while the warrior would be like Yang, taking hits to dish them out.

Jaune was incorrect about the Monk's semblance. It functioned just like his own, a protective barrier. He slowly began to think of it like the fights he had with Yang, sparring matches that pit an unstoppable force against an immovable object, dancing around the circle and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

"Enjoying the fight?" His father interrupted, a smile now on his face. "You seemed to be deep in thought about what's going on."

"Yeah," Jaune responded distantly, both eyes still on the fight. "I'm trying to study the fight like I would back at Beacon. They fight a lot like Yang and I did when we practiced together."

"Interesting…" His father trailed off, moving to his side and stroking his chin. "Are you talking about Miss Yang Xiao Long? You've been practicing with her at Beacon? Certainly, you should give her my thanks. You looked much better in that fight… sadly, your opponent was just better…"

"He knows, dad," His oldest sister, Rose, spoke up finally. She rose from her chair in the back room and began to berate her father. "You've drilled it into his head for most of his life. 'You are holding Crocus Mors, the family's sword, passed down through the generations since the Great War. The blood of legends runs through your veins. You need to be better than others, and I get onto you when you aren't.'" Exaggerating her motions, his older sister played upon how his father had been. It made everyone around him laugh.

"Relax, Rose..." Jaune lowered his hand upon his father's shoulder, smiling. "I have this all figured out. You don't need to worry. I know where I am going and I know what I need to do now."

His mother piped up again, her authoritative tone ringing through the box. "Nigel, you've done much to prepare him for his life as a Huntsman. We've raised our children together knowing that they would all likely follow this path. Rose and Azure are already Huntresses, fine young women as they are. You let them follow their own path, so why should Jaune be any different?"

"I… just think he should carry himself a little better, Cecilia," His father responded, slightly despondent. "I was raised an Arc. I know the expectations that are placed upon the shoulders of the scions of our family. The pressure I put on him sometimes were the pressures put on me by my father, and the ones they had put on him by his. I don't want to break him, but… I gotta make him strong."

"And you've made me strong, dad." Jaune smiled lightly. "But I do think you scheduled too many events this break. I… really hate these events; I only really care about the fights." And with that, he turned his attention back to the fight itself.

The monk seemed to be finally on the offensive, driving the warrior back. At a quick glance to the gigantic screen looming overhead, it showed that both were nearing the end of their bars. Whoever could land a sizeable blow would win the match. Staff met sword as the two clashed for control. It felt like his match with Weiss, with their power clash. However, unlike theirs, the sword wielder won out. The next few moments would confirm his suspicions that their clash was comparable to that of the fight between himself and Yang.

That one single swing, glowing red with energy, was all that it took to defeat the monk, who was sent flying, staff and all, across the dusty ring. He then lay prone on the ground, unconscious face turned towards the victorious warrior, who bellowed out a roar as the crowd went insane.

Jaune turned back to his family, grinning. "That was a wonderful match!" His emotions, the fire that ignited in him in the heat of battle, flared up intensely with the sight of the matches.

"I'm glad that you enjoyed it. Good to see some of the fire back in you," His father heaved a sigh, giving Jaune a soft, reserved smile. Said smile quickly fell back into a more neutral visage as he added, "But you do need to try working on your stance."

"Alright..." Jaune trailed off, thinking for a moment on his own wants, how much he'd like to leave. "How much longer until we finally go home?"

"Well." Jaune's father deliberated for a moment. The boy knew how much his father hated crowds or lines; in that respect, Jaune was just like him. "We need to stay a couple more hours, Jaune. It is only polite that we do so; the stadium paid for our matchbox, and it would be extremely rude if we left before the end of the exhibition."

Jaune groaned and sat back in his chair, unwillingly settling into the ennui that would plague him for the rest of the show.


Walking off the plane, Weiss breathed in deeply. The crisp, cold Atlesian air filled her lungs and reminded her that she was finally, well and truly, home. The Schnee Mansion rose high above the ground, consisting of multiple floors and an exterior that sunk deep behind the pillars that neighbored large marble steps. Circular windows allowed every front-facing room a view of the outside, which was close to storming at the current moment. The roof extended farther forward than the rest of the house, creating a large canopy to protect the front and allow a dry entrance. Coated in white, everything seemed as if it was enrobed in snow. and held the Schnee symbol: the twelve-pointed snowflake.

Inside, many twisting hallways were filled by rooms and windows on opposite sides. A pale blue carpet was rolled onto the center of each floor, which also carried the Schnee symbol in pure white. Only a select few, the main hallways, were constantly inhabited. Many other hallways, often periphery hallways, were only inhabited by servants looking for a break or trying to get to specific rooms, such as Jacques' meeting room.

Those empty hallways gave her solace from her father and incessant brother, whose normal paths Weiss had memorized and taken steps to avoid whenever possible. This meant that, often, she took paths that only servants otherwise crossed and passed by rooms long vacated. This solace came with the negativity at the grandiose of the mansion- often, Weiss was lonely moving through the house. The once vast Schnee family had come down to one single line, many filled rooms now empty and barren where Weiss could once remember old family and friends staying.

It was a reason that she harbored such a hatred to the White Fang and its members- it created loneliness for her. At the top, it was a very selective process about who she could be friends with, and she drove away many of those that could have been friends that her father would have accepted. And, with all her cousins and uncles and aunts just suddenly disappearing over time, it left so much of the mansion, which had once been a much cheerier place… desolate.

Another reason to escape. The thought had brewed in her head for the longest while, ever since Winter had such an idea. As she entered her room, she let her bags slip from her hands on either side of the doorframe. Before she could even do anything in her room, she felt the presence of another, smaller person.

"Glad to be home?" A voice she hated hearing all through the tour. Whitley… Turning around, Weiss saw the smaller version of their father saunter into the room. Dressed in his white undershirt and dark blue blazer, as well as a black tie and pants, he looked as he normally did.

"Yes, Whitley," Weiss countered, putting on her front. "I am quite happy to be home… just as you are, I presume?"

"Ah, yes, I am, thank you for asking. I think Father was quite pleased to see that you beat that Vale ruffian in your exhibition against him." Vale ruffian is not the way to put it. Infuriated by the presence of her brother, but powerless to tell him to go away, Weiss simply pouted and dealt with his presence.

"Father is off on yet another business trip in the morning," Whitley nonchalantly quipped as he stepped further into the room and invaded her privacy further. "Which means it is just us, mother and the servants in the mansion for the remainder of your stay. I trust that we will see very little of each other, then?"

At least he knows that much. "Your trust is well-put, Whitley." Weiss smiled falsely, trying to off-put her brother. Secretly, she missed when he was little and her father still at least tried to give a good moment or two to her and her siblings. Whitley was the physical representation of the negativity that surrounded their family ever since his birth. As much as she tried to give an ounce of love to her brother, she was constantly at odds with her own emotions, which sought to hate him.

She realized, however, that he was only thirteen. Any independent streak inside of him would only be slowly festering, but he had not experienced the pressure of being the heir. She had been a lot like him at thirteen, still parroting the voice of their Father, even as resentment to him and everything that he represented began to bubble within her and as she searched for a way out. Winter had recently left, and the thoughts that Winter had expressed to Weiss made the current heiress even more willing to break away from the cold iron grip of Jacques Schnee.

First Winter running off to join the Army, now her with Beacon, left Whitley with little but his own thoughts, the rare and subtle intrusions of their father, and a mountain of books to bide his time with. Who knows what resentment he could hold towards the both of us for leaving him alone?

She couldn't hate him for being born as the son of a soulless man, nor could she blame him for the attitude he had begun to take whenever in her presence. In the middle of all her hatred in what he represented, she almost pitied his situation. Pumped full of father's ambition and greed to have everything, but without anything to gain from his situation.

"Well, I am glad that we agree on that matter." Whitley's hands crossed across his solar plexus as he continued to speak. "Father heard about your… conversation with that filth on the streets of Vale." This sent chills up Weiss's spine. She knew what he was talking about, and it was not good that he knew all about it. "He was quite furious, to say the least. He considered stripping you of your position as the heiress and dragging you home that very day. A Schnee in equal conversation with a rapscallion, not fit to lick the dirt under our boots." He was laughing at his own words, the chuckles coming from his lips sounding like fiendish cackling to Weiss. "I'd say, be thankful that you beat that kid earlier. If not, you'd be answering to Dad."

After that metaphorical dragging through the mud, Weiss wanted to throw her past opinions under the rug and attack him with every ounce of fury that was contained within. However, she contained it within. She could guess that his already-present attachment to their father was only exacerbated when she left him alone. Servants were no true replacement for family, and when the sisters and their elusive father were all that they had left, Weiss understood, to an extent, what he was going through with his loneliness.

"I still don't quite get why you became a Huntress, Weiss." The younger Schnee's tone grew a bit curious, as if something worth his time actually came up. "You had everything you needed here."

"It's lonely at the top, Whitley," Weiss rapidly responded. "And you need to make all the friends you can when you're young. I hope you never have to experience that. Nobody, not even our dear Father, deserves the loneliness that running the Company brings nowadays. You have a lot still to learn."

Whitley seemed speechless at her words. Her voice had grown quiet, and her speech slowed as she continued with it. Weiss felt the emotions well up inside of her, but less of anger and more of anguish, seeing such a sweet little boy grow up into a smaller version of the monster that they both had to call father.

"You don't have long with me, Whitley." Weiss tried to continue a cordial manner for as long as she could. "We should savor the peace and quiet while we both have it." Weiss realized that she said the wrong thing as Whitley's face quickly turned sour, his lips momentarily puckering.

"I will see you at dinner, Weiss. Here's to some peace and quiet." He raised an invisible toast before quickly sauntering out of the room and into the more populated hallways, where his study was.

Thank the Maker he's gone. Weiss huffed slightly, closing and locking the door behind her. She didn't want to be glad at Whitley's departure, but it had become necessary. His presence had become a toxic one, dangerous to her well-being whenever she was at home. It became more and more like the one their father possessed as each day passed, like an ever-looming phantom. Beginning to relax as she heard Whitley's steps fade into quiet echoes down the long hallway, she then proceeded to collapse into the chair at her desk, looking outwards to see the storm already beginning to rage outside.

If only he'd just come up and realize that Dad won't always be there to protect him. Weiss then noticed a bit of blank paper on her desk. An idea came to her: Write to Whitley for the future. She never knew when it could come in handy, but it could serve her well to put some forethought into planning out a future course of events. The errant crashes of thunder that echoed in the distance didn't faze Weiss; she felt determined to leave him the note. She picked up a fountain pen, nicked its fresh nib, and began to write.

Dear Whitley…

For a while, little came to her. It was tough to think about the possibilities of the future; what of her father, what of him… even what of her. In these turbulent times, it was nigh impossible for foresight to be of much use, what with every moment possibly being the one where another would be killed, or that an attack on Atlas would shut down the country's business as well as much of the Company's trade. It was nerve-wracking to predict, even to predict the idea that he'd ever find it or he'd ever read it.

As the storm raged on and afternoon turned into night, the weather slowly chilled and the rain pounding above turned into snow. The quiet of the night gave Weiss a clearer mind, and the words flowed onto the paper. For thirty minutes, she did little but write. She kept throwing away pages; the words had to be perfect or she would start over. This wasn't a school assignment; this could eventually help someone who's willing to escape a bad situation…

Weiss gulped. If he ever wants to leave.

With a sense of purpose, she finally found the draft that would work. Tucking in a second page behind it, in case she ever found the need to add to it, Weiss then folded it up neatly and stuck it in her drawer.

As she put the draft of his letter away, she suddenly heard the scroll on her bed beep. Oh, I wonder who that might be?

With a quiet slam of the dresser drawer, Weiss fluttered over to the desk and answered its call.


A few hours later, the Arc family finally arrived at their home: A well-guarded abode in the woods just outside the port city of Maple. It stood tall and proud, with a large fence surrounding the perimeter and It was a welcome relief for the whole group to finally be home. This was especially so for Jaune, who bolted up the steps to his room the second he had the opportunity.

It was just as he had left it: a few trophies sitting on a shelf in the background as well as a rack for his armor, but otherwise just like an average teenager's room. A small wooden bed, with fluffy down pillows and a mattress large enough to give him a decent amount of leg-room, sat in the back left corner covered in a plain blue cover and sheets. A small cabinet, with a blue lamppost, rested on the floor next to it. Its two drawers were filled with various trinkets: his old, derelict scroll from his first year at Signal; a few exemplary papers that his parents insisted he had kept; as well as various other keepsakes from his past that he had received from his friends.

In the other corner, resting under the hanging shelf, was a dark oak bookcase lined with volumes of great variance. Many were of military strategy, ones that his father wanted him to read so that he was drilled in the tactics of battle; many others were his preferred genres, such as fantasy or mythical stories, that were much less numerous; and, still, others were books handed down from his sisters, who were much more into the philosophy of humanity. Still, much of it was left empty for more books to join them, should Jaune ever again regain the hunger for reading.

Jaune was glad that he could finally again crash on a familiar bed after many nights spent in hotels with different sorts of mattresses- some soft, some hard, but none that fit his liking. As it gave to fit his body's contour, Jaune gingerly pulled out his scroll to check up on his friends. As it was, it was only the latter part of the afternoon for Jaune and for Ruby and the rest of Team RWBY. However, for the rest of his teammates, it was the late evening. They would be, most assuredly, heading for bed soon.

It was now or never to send them a call, then. He pulled up the call function on his scroll, fumbling through the list of names, nearly accidentally calling a relative or an old friend from Signal. After a moment, he found Pyrrha's scroll number, clicking the video chat function, and let it ring for a few moments. Then, Pyrrha's face materialized on the screen, a little sleepy-eyed.

"Hello?" She responded, yawning. From what Jaune could gather, she was sitting up on her bed, probably close to bed. Remember to check time zones, Jaune. After a moment of blinking, she lit up like a Christmas light. "Oh, hey Jaune! How has your vacation gone? Are you doing well?"

"I'm doing just fine, Pyrrha," Jaune responded calmly, sighing a little bit. "I'm just glad to be home finally."

"Have you…" Pyrrha trailed off, looking aside as if she was parsing for the right words to say. "Not been home today or something?"

"More like been away all break." Jaune rolled his eyes. "I've been touring Vale since we all left Beacon on holiday. Exhibitions, parties, events, signings… it's a pain to deal with. Fame really bites you in the ass."

"Oh, that sounds terrible." Pyrrha quipped sympathetically. "But you're home for the last week of the holiday?"

"Yeah." He breathed out a sigh of relief. "It's great relieving all that tension. I did… see Weiss though. She seemed to be doing just fine, but was probably in the same situation I was." Jaune then paused for a moment before asking, "Are you doing okay as well, Pyrrha?"

"I'm glad to hear that Weiss was doing okay." Pyrrha smiled, before getting up from her bed and walking out of the room. Her footsteps smacked lightly against a wooden floor, and he could hear a door opening above. "I think there are others that would want to see you, Jaune. They're just in the other room." He could hear Pyrrha shout in the background, "Hey, guys! Come here! Jaune's on the phone."

Jaune questioned who could be the ones that would want to see him at Pyrrha's house for only a moment. Loud, clambering footsteps made it apparent who was there. "Hey, Jaune!" Nora and Ren. The red-orange locks that quickly flowed over the screen as Nora put her head on the screen made Jaune almost laugh. "How have you been?"

"Better now than I was, Nora." Jaune couldn't stop laughing for a few moments at Nora's spontaneity. "I'm finally home myself. So… how are things for the both of you at Pyrrha's abode?"

This time, it was Ren to pipe up. "She has been a wonderful host to us. Nora and I are glad to be here over break instead of at Beacon." His voice maintained the same tone that it tended to, but it almost seemed more relaxed and happy. Jaune was glad about that; Ren always seemed rather tense and observant, especially when Nora was nearby. Now, for once, he could relax in the relative safety of Pyrrha's home.

"Wonderful. I'd be surprised if Pyrrha was anything but. So, anyone have any stories that they might want to share?" Jaune asked, actually interested in hearing what they have to say. With all the time they spent together, he was actually glad to see his teammates again, even if by video.

Nora took center-stage, practically tossing Pyrrha and Ren aside as she took the scroll and started talking. "So, we were all there, outside, chopping firewood. We walked up to come and help carry trunks that Pyrrha's father is knocking down. So, Mr. Nikos was there, just slowly hacking away at a tree with his ax. I got the idea that, hey, why not use my brute strength to knock one down? So, I activated Magnhild, and he was just there saying, 'why are you pulling out a hammer? This is the work of an ax!'" As Nora continued to tell her story, she mimed the actions and mimicked the booming voice that Jaune had heard in calls. "I just looked at him and told him that I knew what I was doing. And then I threw my Warhammer right into the side of the tree, on the side where there's already a cut. And, there it goes, just falling down like…" She whistled, indicating the tree falling down. "Boom! He was so happy that I could do that, and then even happier when I lifted all the trees over to the chopping block for him. He and Ajax offered to help, but I was like, 'Nah. I got this, guys. I'm all force.'"

At that, Jaune busted out laughing. He pointed at Pyrrha and Ren before asking, "So, where were they while you were doing this, Nora?"

Ren took center stage at this moment. He didn't even seem fazed over his partner's story. "We were helping Mrs. Nikos with lunch. She makes wonderful meals." With a characteristically terse response, Ren then quickly gave the scroll back to Pyrrha, who seemed eager to speak.

"So, Jaune, what sorts of places did you go on your tour?" Pyrrha asked, seeming to want to continue the conversation.

"Oh, I've gone all around Vale, and had a match or two in Atlas." Jaune started listing off where he went. "I went to Hawthorne in Patch, the stadium main city of Vale, the Fallen Oak Colosseum in the north, the town of Fennel in southern Vale… I sorta bounced all around Vale. I never really stayed in one place for too long; they wanted me to do more matches, more expos, more events, and more signings. It's not like I was the only one, but I was one of their prized jewels."

"That sounds terrible," Pyrrha replied, a look of concern on her face. "Are you home to stay?"

"Yeah." Jaune nodded. Thank the Moon that I am. "Not another single moment out on the road until it's time to meet up back at Beacon. A good amount of time to rest up."

"Glad to hear. Well, Jaune," Pyrrha continued. "I think we all need to get to bed. It's really late over here."

"Hey, you guys do that." Jaune grinned, nodding furiously. "Sorry for calling you guys so late… and for not calling you guys before now. I've been… caught up, as you can see."

"No, no, it's fine!" Pyrrha insisted. "I guess we now know why you weren't able to call us for so long. Good night, Jaune!"

"Good night!" And the glow of the screen faded out as it returned to the home page. Jaune then collapsed onto the bed, letting out a huge sigh. He grasped the covered under him, feeling the fabric that he cocooned himself with as he slept each night for years in the past. The scroll still rested on his legs, but now he just stared up at the ceiling.

I'm glad to be home… Jaune's mind wandered as he took a glance out the nearby window, watching the last rosy pink remnants of the day's lights fall behind the hill. He still missed his teammates, but the close comforts of home would suffice as a solace for now.


A/N: Hey guys! Hopefully, by this point, I'm about fully settled into college. It's not always the easiest thing to get out a chapter, but I'm going to do my best still to get it out. I feel particularly proud of this chapter for some reason, and I hope you all enjoy it as well. I will try to get another chapter out a little quicker next time, but I'm starting to think that this amount of time is going to be the normal rate for chapters for a while. Either way, have a good evening, everyone.

-C. Exodia