[ As the lands that they drive through start to turn rocky and strange, Blake's feeling a little better than she has the past couple of months. Driving is a little more difficult now -- two massive bat wings sit mantled at her back, black and deep purple, slits cut in her jacket to accommodate them -- but her back doesn't hurt anymore beyond the healing of wounds where Yang had had to cut her wings free, and her bloodlust is better managed now.
Perhaps she should have known that a bright spot on the horizon just meant more havoc in her future.
She hadn't thought much about the plant with the orange glow. It had made her fingertips tingle a little, but not much more. And now, as she wanders what can only be the fossilized remains of a battleground, its affects are about to be made apparent. Some giant monster's bones lay in the cracked dirt; Blake picks her way through robot corpses and scattered weapons, shading her eyes with her hand as she looks up to the floating mounds of rock above. She finds herself stopped in front of a mechanical person half-melted into a massive rib bone, their arm extended with a dark-bladed dagger clutched in their fist. Blake gently pries it loose, but as soon as she has a firm grip on the hilt--
She staggers back. She sees: a mechanical soldier striding toward a wall of monsters. A tangle of wings and claws and horns, people barely clinging to their humanity. Some are praying to the moon, others are just watching it hopefully. In their fists are clutched pendants, a weeping eye above a moon. Blake blinks, and the vision vanishes, but she's left on edge, bat wings half-spread in defense, white-knuckling her grip on the dagger. A footstep behind her has her whirling, brandishing the knife, expecting monsters-- but she drops her hand as soon as she sees another Drifter. ]
Sorry. I just saw... [ Blake exhales a frustrated sigh, ears flat. ] You'd think I'd be used to random visions by now, but I guess not.
✘ ⸻ what dreams may come
[ When they stop for the night, Blake chooses to sleep in the back of her van. The wind is a lullaby against the windows, sage brush tumbling against the van's wheels, and she drops off into sleep faster than she'd expected, curled up under her scavenged blankets.
A nightmare takes hold of another Drifter.
You're on the floor of a school building, fire creeping up the walls. Monsters roar outside, rattling the windows; the screams of terrified people echo through the door, the sounds of dozens of feet running. A man stands over you. Red hair dark in the firelight, black bull horns swept back from his face, a white monster's face mask covering his eyes. Your face hurts where he hit you, knocked you to the ground. You feel so many things when you look at him: guilt, fear, the bitter remains of love.
All I want is you, my love, he drawls, stooping over your fallen body. And as I set out upon this world and deliver the justice mankind so greatly deserves, I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love. A blonde appears in the window, shouting your name, looking for you amidst the chaos. Yang. Adam's lips curls into a smile under his mask. Starting with her.
Before you can hope to do anything, he draws a red blade, and stabs you in the abdomen. You cry out with the pain, and it draws Yang's attention. She whirls. You murmur no, please, reaching out for her. She screams. Her hair catches ablaze with golden fire, fury written on her face. She leaps, lunging for the man, fists first.
His blade flashes. Her arm shears off above the elbow. Yang falls.
What do you do?]
✘ ⸻ brain brawl
[ After that nightmare, Blake doesn't sleep for a long time. The next night, she finds herself patrolling the convoy as it rests for the night, wandering at the edge of the shield. Her bat wings are looped close around her like a mantle, expression troubled as she walks.
It doesn't take long for her to notice the rustling in the distance.
Before she knows it, the weirdest little monsters she's ever seen are hurling themselves at the barrier, like brains on legs, horrible little skittering things that are threatening to overwhelm the shield. Blake plants herself next to the nearest Drifter, short katana in one hand, wings spread wide to shield any other Drifters behind her. ]
If you can fight, stick with me! [ She raises her voice to be heard about the noise. ] If you can't, get behind me, and get inside the cars.
✘ ⸻ bonus track: emo metal
[ In a pocket of peace after the attacks, Blake winds up sitting on top of her campervan, legs dangling against the mural that Yang painted on it. Despite the rugged surroundings, the spraypainted mural of the sexy big-booba ninja versus the sexy big naturals wizard has held on surprisingly well. Blake still thinks it makes her campervan look like she sells shrooms out the back of it, but she's become fond of it now.
The night is calm. Big rocks are floating in the background. And My Chemical Romance's Welcome to the Black Parade is playing on her stereo. Blake half-smiles at the person that approaches. ]
If I was still fourteen, this would be my new anthem. I would have found my soul's soundtrack. [ There's a laugh buried under her words. ] Isn't it great?
blake belladonna | rwby
[ As the lands that they drive through start to turn rocky and strange, Blake's feeling a little better than she has the past couple of months. Driving is a little more difficult now -- two massive bat wings sit mantled at her back, black and deep purple, slits cut in her jacket to accommodate them -- but her back doesn't hurt anymore beyond the healing of wounds where Yang had had to cut her wings free, and her bloodlust is better managed now.
Perhaps she should have known that a bright spot on the horizon just meant more havoc in her future.
She hadn't thought much about the plant with the orange glow. It had made her fingertips tingle a little, but not much more. And now, as she wanders what can only be the fossilized remains of a battleground, its affects are about to be made apparent. Some giant monster's bones lay in the cracked dirt; Blake picks her way through robot corpses and scattered weapons, shading her eyes with her hand as she looks up to the floating mounds of rock above. She finds herself stopped in front of a mechanical person half-melted into a massive rib bone, their arm extended with a dark-bladed dagger clutched in their fist. Blake gently pries it loose, but as soon as she has a firm grip on the hilt--
She staggers back. She sees: a mechanical soldier striding toward a wall of monsters. A tangle of wings and claws and horns, people barely clinging to their humanity. Some are praying to the moon, others are just watching it hopefully. In their fists are clutched pendants, a weeping eye above a moon. Blake blinks, and the vision vanishes, but she's left on edge, bat wings half-spread in defense, white-knuckling her grip on the dagger. A footstep behind her has her whirling, brandishing the knife, expecting monsters-- but she drops her hand as soon as she sees another Drifter. ]
Sorry. I just saw... [ Blake exhales a frustrated sigh, ears flat. ] You'd think I'd be used to random visions by now, but I guess not.
[ When they stop for the night, Blake chooses to sleep in the back of her van. The wind is a lullaby against the windows, sage brush tumbling against the van's wheels, and she drops off into sleep faster than she'd expected, curled up under her scavenged blankets.
A nightmare takes hold of another Drifter.
You're on the floor of a school building, fire creeping up the walls. Monsters roar outside, rattling the windows; the screams of terrified people echo through the door, the sounds of dozens of feet running. A man stands over you. Red hair dark in the firelight, black bull horns swept back from his face, a white monster's face mask covering his eyes. Your face hurts where he hit you, knocked you to the ground. You feel so many things when you look at him: guilt, fear, the bitter remains of love.
All I want is you, my love, he drawls, stooping over your fallen body. And as I set out upon this world and deliver the justice mankind so greatly deserves, I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love. A blonde appears in the window, shouting your name, looking for you amidst the chaos. Yang. Adam's lips curls into a smile under his mask. Starting with her.
Before you can hope to do anything, he draws a red blade, and stabs you in the abdomen. You cry out with the pain, and it draws Yang's attention. She whirls. You murmur no, please, reaching out for her. She screams. Her hair catches ablaze with golden fire, fury written on her face. She leaps, lunging for the man, fists first.
His blade flashes. Her arm shears off above the elbow. Yang falls.
What do you do? ]
[ After that nightmare, Blake doesn't sleep for a long time. The next night, she finds herself patrolling the convoy as it rests for the night, wandering at the edge of the shield. Her bat wings are looped close around her like a mantle, expression troubled as she walks.
It doesn't take long for her to notice the rustling in the distance.
Before she knows it, the weirdest little monsters she's ever seen are hurling themselves at the barrier, like brains on legs, horrible little skittering things that are threatening to overwhelm the shield. Blake plants herself next to the nearest Drifter, short katana in one hand, wings spread wide to shield any other Drifters behind her. ]
If you can fight, stick with me! [ She raises her voice to be heard about the noise. ] If you can't, get behind me, and get inside the cars.
[ In a pocket of peace after the attacks, Blake winds up sitting on top of her campervan, legs dangling against the mural that Yang painted on it. Despite the rugged surroundings, the spraypainted mural of the sexy big-booba ninja versus the sexy big naturals wizard has held on surprisingly well. Blake still thinks it makes her campervan look like she sells shrooms out the back of it, but she's become fond of it now.
The night is calm. Big rocks are floating in the background. And My Chemical Romance's Welcome to the Black Parade is playing on her stereo. Blake half-smiles at the person that approaches. ]
If I was still fourteen, this would be my new anthem. I would have found my soul's soundtrack. [ There's a laugh buried under her words. ] Isn't it great?