SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Confined (New)

Confined

“So,” Blake asked. “What are you going to tell your father?”

“Not the truth, obviously,” Weiss replied. She managed a smile. “Perhaps I’ll tell him we had a wild night out.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Good luck with that. Although, you know, if you ever want to hang out for real … I can’t promise it’ll be wild, but it might be fun.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said. “I’ll remember that.”

“Do,” Blake urged. “We — I, at least — would like it if you did.”

Weiss kept the words in mind as she pushed open the front door — there were other entrances that would have been more discreet, but which might also have run the risk of getting Klein into trouble through involvement in her actions, and she didn’t want to bring him into this any more than he already was. Having seen what had become of Laberna Seacole since her dismissal, she had no desire to visit the same fate upon Klein.

So she came in through the front, looking around, her blue eyes scanning the hallway and seeing no one about. She pushed the door open just enough to slip through it and stepped lightly inside. Her boots tapped upon the tiled floor, which was unfortunate but, at the same time, unavoidable, the floor being as hard as it was.

There was no sign of Father anywhere. Of course, there would be no avoiding him forever, but at the same time, Weiss was willing to postpone that conversation for as long as she possibly could — preferably until she was physically summoned into his presence.

She began to walk towards the stairs, trying to step as lightly as she could, trying to make as little sound as she could, creeping into her own house like a thief.

The other reason for wanting to avoid encountering Father was that if she could just get to her room, then she could put Myrtenaster away and — assuming that he hadn’t searched her bedroom, which was, unfortunately, by no means a certainty — then he need never know that she had taken it with her. However, if she was caught before then, if he saw her with her weapon upon her hip, then it would be very hard to explain why she had it.

After all, it wasn’t as though Atlas was so lawless that one needed to go armed about the streets.

It occurred to Weiss that there was a way that she could move about the house while making no sound at all, in spite of the boots and of her footwear. Halfway to the grand staircase, she stopped and concentrated for a moment, and conjured a line of glowing white glyphs, about half an inch off the floor, running in a straight line from where she stood to the staircase, and then ascending parallel with the stairs all the way to the first floor.

Smiling to herself, Weiss leapt onto the first glyph, and from there onto the second, and the one after that, jumping from glyph to glyph as though they were stepping stones she was using to cross a river. She found herself hopping from one to the next, arms out, as though she were playing a game and not trying to escape her father’s notice. She did all of this without a sound, her footfalls silent upon glyphs, passing over the floor with all its potential to betray her.

And as she hopped across the glyphs, her ponytail bouncing up and down, Weiss found her thoughts drawn back to her last conversation with Blake and Rainbow Dash, before she took her leave of them to return here.

Yes, it would be rather nice to hang out, wouldn’t it? To go out, to leave this house that was so empty, cold and silent, to laugh and talk to … to hang out. It would be rather nice, if only occasionally.

Provided that Father allowed her to leave the house between now and her going back to Beacon.

Weiss reached the top of the stairs. Now a further line of glyphs would carry her down the corridors to her—

“You know that those things aren’t allowed in the house,” Jacques’ voice was cold, and yet at the same time, it seemed to drip with anger like water dripping from melted ice. “Or did you forget that while you were away at Beacon?”

Weiss jumped down off the glyph, which disappeared instantly, and set her feet upon the landing at the top of the stairs. She had not seen her father, but as she landed, he emerged from some shadowy alcove where she had not noticed.

Weiss swallowed. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“For using your semblance?” Jacques’ asked. “Or for trying to sneak in unnoticed?”

His eyes of icy blue bored into her, chilling her, forcing her to look away from him. She did not respond. There was very little she could say in way of response. The most she could do was deny that she had been trying to sneak in, but that would sound feeble indeed, and he would not believe it. So Weiss waited, still and silent, for him to realise that there was no answer coming.

“Where have you been?” Jacques inquired in a deceptively polite tone. “And look at me when you answer.”

Weiss did look at him, looking into his icy blue eyes; she sometimes worried that she had inherited those eyes, not just the colour but the coldness of them. So cold, so devoid of affection. She hoped very much that that was not what other people saw when they looked into her eyes.

“If you ever want to hang out for real…”

No. No, it was not. It couldn’t be, or why was she treated with such kindness and affection by so many: Flash, Blake, Rainbow, even Cardin and Russell? It could not all be about the Schnee wealth and influence.

It was none of it about the Schnee wealth and influence. She had to remember that. She had to keep reminding herself of it.

“Well?” Jacques prompted. “Where have you been?”

“I … I met with Councillor Cadenza,” Weiss said. It had the advantage of being true.

Jacques’ eyebrows rose. “Really?” he murmured. “It must have been a very long meeting, to go on from yesterday until now.”

Weiss attempted to suppress a wince. “I’ve just come from the meeting.”

“Hmm,” Jacques murmured. “I wasn’t aware you knew Councillor Cadenza.”

“We were introduced by a mutual friend,” Weiss replied. “An Atlas student whom I met at Beacon.”

“What’s their name, this friend?”

“Rainbow Dash.”

Jacques’ lower lip — the upper lip was concealed behind his moustache — curled into a sneer. “The Sparkle family’s pet project?”

“She’s an Atlesian huntress,” Weiss replied. “She deserves a little more respect.”

“'Respect'?” Jacques’ repeated. “She’s a gutter rat crawled out of the sewer.” He turned away from Weiss, clasping his hands behind his back. “I thought you knew better than to associate with such riff-raff.”

“She has the friendship of generals and councillors,” Weiss pointed out. “No matter her origins, I think that she has progressed beyond being 'riff-raff.' And besides, I’ll make my own choices as to who I associate with.”

“Oh, will you now?” Jacques asked, turning to face her once again.

Weiss swallowed. “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “I will.”

Jacques was silent for a moment. “What did you and our esteemed Councillor Cadenza talk about?”

“Nothing … that would interest you, Father, I’m sure,” Weiss said softly.

“'Nothing'?” Jacques said. “You had the attention of a Councillor, and you talked of … nothing? I don’t know what would be worse, that you’re lying or that you’re telling the truth. You must have said something.”

“We didn’t sit in silence, no,” Weiss admitted.

“Then I will decide whether or not your topic of conversation interests me,” Jacques declared. “Again: what did you talk about?”

How you abandoned someone you should have taken care of, for Grandfather’s sake. “The … state of the kingdom,” Weiss said. “Why Mantle is so restive, why people don’t trust the authorities, that sort of thing.”

Jacques was silent for a moment. “Really?” he asked. “I wasn’t aware that you were concerned with Mantle, or with the state of the kingdom, for that matter.”

“Atlas is my home,” Weiss pointed out. “Just because I want to become a huntress doesn’t mean that I don’t care.”

Jacques did not respond to that; rather, he asked, “And before that? Where have you been the rest of the time?”

“Out,” Weiss said. “With friends.”

“This Rainbow Dash again?”

“Among others.”

“And who are they?”

“Flash Sentry, my teammate from Beacon,” Weiss said. “And … Blake Belladonna.”

She saw her father’s eyes widen, although he said nothing. He was silent for a moment, and then a moment more, until, finally, he said, “I see. It must have been quite a night to keep you out all night and into the following morning. I’m surprised you were in a state to meet with Councillor Cadenza after that.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jacques said. “I’d hate to see you end up like your mother, after all.”

The words struck her like a slap across the face; Weiss flinched from them. “Don’t worry,” she said. “There is no danger of that.”

“Excellent,” Jacques said. He sighed. “But all the same, I’m rather disappointed, sweetheart. Sneaking out, not answering my calls, I thought that you were better than this. I’m beginning to wonder if you ought to return to Beacon.”

“What?” Weiss squawked, alarm raising her pitch. “What do you mean? I have to go back—”

“That school has clearly been a terrible influence on you,” Jacques said. “You were such a good girl when you went away, and now, you’re leaving home without telling anyone where you’re going, you won’t answer the scroll — I had no idea where you were; I was frantic to find out what was going on; anything might have happened to you out there. You’ve clearly fallen in with a bad crowd.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“You would never have behaved this way before,” Jacques said.

Because I wasn’t actually hanging out with friends, and anyway, I never had any friends to go out with, Weiss thought. But the truth was hardly going to help her here — she’d already given her father some of the truth, and as far as she could tell, it hadn’t helped at all — and it would only make things worse, in fact.

And she was under no illusions that he was bluffing. He could stop her from attending Beacon, if he wished to do so; she was his, and while she was so, he could dispose of her however he wished. He hadn’t really wanted to let her go to Beacon in the first place, and if he thought that it had changed her for the worse … or even if he simply wished to punish her for her behaviour.

“I … I am sorry, Father,” she said, bowing her head. “I should have told you where I was going, and I should have answered your calls. But this … it has nothing to do with Beacon.”

“No?” Jacques asked sceptically.

“No,” Weiss insisted. “It is … it is being away from Beacon, the feeling of not having responsibilities as a team leader—”

“You have responsibilities of another kind,” Jacques informed her. “As a Schnee and a member of this family.”

What would you know about responsibilities as a member of this family? Weiss thought, but kept the thought to herself. “You’re right. I should have remembered. I’m sorry that I forgot it. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“No,” Jacques said. “It won’t.”

He smiled. “I’m not upset that you met with a Councillor, of course, even if I do wish that you had met with one who was a little more … selective in the company she keeps, but you should have told me that you were meeting with her beforehand; I could have helped you, discussed what you were going to say to her beforehand.”

You could have put your words in my mouth, you mean. “Of course, Father.”

“As for…” Jacques trailed off. “Why do you have your weapon with you?”

Weiss’ hand twitched towards the hilt of Myrtenaster. “Well … you never know what might happen, do you?”

Jacques tilted his head a little and adopted a tone that might have been taken for worried if she hadn’t known him so well. “Sweetheart, don’t you see? This is just what I was afraid of. That’s why I was so upset when I didn’t hear from you, when I couldn’t reach you. And you must think of your mother. I don’t know what she would have done if I’d had to tell her that something had happened to you. Please, be more considerate in the future.”

Weiss swallowed. “I will,” she said. “In future, I will let you know where I plan to go … and with whom.”

“Good,” Jacques said. “That’s all I want. To know where you are, and to let you know if your destination and companions are … suitable.” He turned away, and this time, he began to walk away. “Run along now. I expect you must be tired after your long night.”

“Yes,” Weiss murmured, and in that, at least, she had no need to lie.

Having been up all night, she was starting to feel tired, the adrenaline of their battles wearing off, replaced by a sense of weariness. It began to weigh upon her legs as she walked down the enormous corridor towards her room, making her steps leaden and heavy, making her teeter a little in her high-heeled boots. She yawned as she walked, and had to take deeper breaths to make up for yawning.

She made her way through this house as silent as a mausoleum, and made her way back to her own bedroom.

Weiss maintained enough discipline to put Myrtenaster away before she did anything else, but did not possess quite enough discipline to take off her boots before she flopped face-first onto the bed.

She did not quite hit the pillow, but if only she could crawl the rest of the way there…

She’d forgotten to draw the curtains. The sunlight hit her face and eyes.

Weiss screwed said eyes tight shut. She was not moving off this bed.

There was a knock at the door.

Weiss let out a wordless grumble as she raised her head. “Who is it?”

“It’s Klein, Miss Weiss.”

Weiss tried to stifle a yawn with one hand, but that was hard to do when you were mostly lying face down and had only just about raised your head off the duvet. “Come in, Klein,” she managed to say.

The bedroom door opened, and Klein walked in, carrying a tray upon which sat a couple of mugs out of which steam rose lazily. “Good morning, Miss Weiss,” he said genially, his tone admitting as little as his words when it came to the fact that Weiss had only just returned from an outing. The way he talked, she might have been sleeping in. “Would you care for some hot coffee?”

Weiss groaned. “No, thank you, Klein.”

“Really? I think you could do with it,” Whitley observed as he followed Klein in, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

“What I could do with,” Weiss replied, “is some sleep.”

“You won’t need sleep if you have coffee,” Whitley pointed out, walking towards her bed with his back straight and his hands clasped behind his back — he looked like Jacques, or perhaps it was fairer to say that he looked like he was trying to look like Jacques. He frowned. “Those boots don’t go with that dress,” he observed.

Weiss pushed herself up off the bed, if only so that she could better glower at him. “Since when do you know anything about fashion? Women’s fashion, at that?”

“I contain multitudes,” Whitley replied. “So, how did it go?”

Weiss closed her eyes for a moment and made a conscious effort to banish the effects of weariness, to push them down until she was alone again. It might be Klein and her brother, but she was a Schnee, after all; there had to be standards. She straightened her own back, almost in imitation of her little brother.

She opened her eyes again and said, “We took care of it. Mrs. Seacole has been reunited with her granddaughter, all of the other kidnapping victims have been rescued and returned to their homes, and the … force responsible for the kidnappings has been stopped.”

Whitley idly picked up one of the cups of coffee from the tray in Klein’s hand. “Thank you, Klein,” he murmured, as he crossed the floor and sat down in the armchair next to the cold and unlit fireplace. “'Kidnapping victims'? There was more than one?”

“Several more,” Weiss murmured. “You can have that if you want, Klein; I meant what I said.”

“Thank you, Miss Weiss,” Klein murmured. He took a sip of the coffee before he said, “I hope that you weren’t in too much danger.”

“It comes with being a huntress,” Weiss said. “And besides, I had some friends backing me up.”

“You have friends?” Whitley asked, prompting Weiss to narrow her eyes at him.

“More than just Mister Sentry, Miss?” asked Klein.

Weiss nodded. “It turned out that I wasn’t the only person looking into things in Low Town. Flash and I ran into a couple of friends from Beacon there, and we joined forces.”

Whitley drank some of his coffee. “What was going on down there?”

“I … I’m not sure I can explain it,” Weiss admitted. “I’m not sure that I want to describe it to you. I’m not even sure that I want to think about it. But it’s over now. We saved everyone that we could, including Primrose Seacole.”

“How was Laberna?” Klein asked softly.

Weiss bowed her head a little and let a sigh pass between her lips. “Not good, I’m afraid,” she said. “Old. Tired. Forced to live in … it was almost offensive how glad she was to see me. Our family exiled her from Atlas to live in Low Town, and yet, she bore me no malice.”

“You did save her granddaughter,” Whitley pointed out.

“Even before that…” Weiss trailed off. “It’s not like I wanted her to be angry; it’s just … I didn’t … I can’t believe that she was left to live like that.”

“I suppose I thought she had a home somewhere in Atlas,” Whitley said, “the product of a nest egg from her years of service.”

“Her nest egg turned out to be more like a couple of damp twigs,” Weiss said, a touch of acid on her tongue.

Whitley’s brow furrowed. “Grandfather—”

“Didn’t get rich by spending his money, apparently,” Weiss’s voice was almost a growl. “However, I spoke to Councillor Cadenza, and she has agreed to look into moving the family to Canterlot.”

“Why Canterlot?” Whitley asked. “And when did you get the chance to speak with Councillor Cadenza?”

“My friend Rainbow Dash arranged it,” Weiss said. “And Canterlot because there is a combat school there, and the Councillor might be able to secure them places and bursaries. It isn’t Atlas, but I daresay it’s better than Low Town.” Not that that would be hard.

Whitley was silent for a moment, looking down into his coffee. “Do you think … do you think she’d appreciate a visit?”

“I’m sure that she’d be delighted,” Weiss admitted, “but I’m not sure that Low Town is the kind of place you should be going.”

“You went,” Whitley pointed out.

“I’m a huntress-in-training; I can take care of myself,” Weiss said. “You … can’t.”

Whitley said nothing, but a scowl settled on his features.

“With respect, Master Whitley, I’m not sure your father would approve of such an excursion,” Klein said. “But I might pay Laberna a visit. I … I should have kept in touch after she was dismissed; we used to work so closely together. I should have made time. I hope she can forgive me as easily as she has forgiven the family. Perhaps I could set up a call for you while I’m there.”

“Yes,” Whitley murmured. “Yes, thank you, Klein; that would be … an adequate substitute. I suppose you’re right; I wouldn’t want to upset Father, would I?” He looked at Weiss. “Does he know you’re back?”

“He met me on the stairs.”

“What did he say?” asked Whitley.

Weiss was silent for a moment. “I think I’m basically grounded,” she said.

Whitley got to his feet. “Until you go back to Beacon, you mean.”

“Yes,” Weiss acknowledged. “Until I go back to Beacon.”

Whitley walked towards the door, pausing only to put the cup back on Klein’s tray. “Well,” he said, “that won’t be for too long will it? Take comfort that you’ll only have to suffer this place for a little while.”

“Whitley,” Weiss said. “Is something wrong?”

“'Wrong'? No, why would anything be wrong?” Whitley asked. “The Seacoles are back together, and you, it seems, are the hero of the day. Congratulations.”

“Whitley—”

“Get some rest, sister,” Whitley said, as he reached the door. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You look like you could use it.”

Comments

[Kiue Jin]

Poor Whitley. It's a terrible thing when you're powerless and don't have anything to do with your time.

Also I can't help but feel like Jacques banned glyphs in the house because he isn't a Schnee and can't summon them himself... So it's his petty way of bringing everyone else down to his level.

[Aemon Targaryen]

11268059

Also I can't help but feel like Jacques banned glyphs in the house because he isn't a Schnee and can't summon them himself... So it's his petty way of bringing everyone else down to his level.

Oh definitely, especially as he isn't even a Aura using person, seeing the glyphs likely make him feel uneasy with the fact than they all could seriously harm him easily.

[Mastermind4892]

That went better than I feared. The exchange with Weiss’ father had me more tense than anything she had encountered that night.