#but yeah....little scene from ch 5 of fragile creatures | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luckyfirerabbit · 4 years

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Jaune Doe pt 5

Even though she is up early every day for work, it's no different on her days off. Blake Belladonna is a creature of habit because routines are comforting, calculable, easy to plan around. It's structure, and she, and Yang, can appreciate a sound structure.

Blake stretches, arms already over her head as she lays in bed, her ears folding flat as the tension in her muscles peaks and she grunts quietly. The bedroom is washed gray with traces of sunlight from outside the one window, making her blink before her vision clears. One hand reaches for the nightstand, habitually gathering her scroll that she might have a preliminary glance at it. There's a couple messages for her to flip through with a swipe of her thumb. A couple are from regular clients, texts for appointment changes, the last one is from Pyrrha -call me when you get a chance- which rouses her more fully awake. She gently shifts out from under the blanket, all but silent, and eases to her feet. She barely gets into her slippers when she hears stirring in the bed couple with little huffs and grunts.

She hurries quietly around to the other side of the bed, smirking at the way Yang searches blindly for her in the vestiges of sleep with her stump. Blake knees down, pushes a few wild curls of hair from her face, and then gently kisses her cheek.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm not leaving." another little kiss, "I'm going to start breakfast." And a third to drive the assurance home. She'll wait until Yang settles again before straightening and heading out of the room. She needs the sleep, Blake thinks and finds comfort in it; this particularly harsh depressive bent is almost over, now Yang is just trying to recover from it.

With scroll in hand she moves through the house to the kitchen, methodically going from cabinet to cabinet to fetch everything she needs. With her eyes trained on her scroll as she files through the contacts, Blake manages to flawlessly fill the tea kettle and get it on the stove. By the time she's actually calling Pyrrha, half of her body is bent over into the now open refrigerator.

"Good morning, Blake!"

Blake flinches away from her scroll at the enthusiasm and volume of the greeting, not expecting it at all considering it's this early on a weekend. "Good morning, I got your message. What did you want to talk about?"

Blake continues about her business while closely listening, her feline ears ticking this way and that as she splits her attention. As she breaks eggs into a still cold skillet, Pyrrha tells Blake about her last visit with Jaune Doe. Blake is a little wary because she sounds a bit hesitant, which isn't like the lawyer at all.

"He remembered something, I think. I didn't mean to but...I upset him."

"It's probably not you personally, Pyrrha; sometimes recollection can be traumatic, some patients I've read about claim it can be like living the event all over again." Blake bites her tongue against a yawn. "And he's still very fragile. Even though he's in recovery, he's still under a great deal of stress, so I'm not surprised he had such a strong mood swing."

"I didn't mean to do it, really."

"I know, and he probably knows that too." Now Blake is gathering some ham and vegetables onto the cutting board beside the stove, pulling a knife from the block and spinning it in her hands before setting the blade to work. "Have you visited him since?"

"No, I've been kind of scared to. I don't want to stress him out any more than he already is."

"You should. And when you do, tell me how it goes; I could learn a lot from how he handles it."

"Why don't you go see him then?"

"It's too early." Blake resists the urge to shake her head, knowing to do so would send her scroll tumbling to the floor. "I won't be able to do any real work with him until after he's discharged and had some time to...settle down, so to speak. As long as his life is in flux and he doesn't have any stability, I can't do much to help him." Because it's hard as hell to heal the mind when one's life is stable, it's all but impossible when it isn't. "But the more information I can get now, the better."

"Okay, I'll try." the reply sighs across the connection.

"If you don't mind my asking," Blake pauses long enough to turn the stove on, "did he tell you about anything? What he remembered?"

"Oh yeah, that's what I meant to lead with." Pyrrha laughs, sounding a little embarrassed at her own distracted self. "He remembered falling out of the window, but he also knows who he was trying to get away from. He said they didn't use names, just titles,"

Blake feels herself tense unconsciously.

"He called him the Butcher."

Blake's brow furrows as she exhales, that tension peaking for a split second before she forces herself to let it go.

"I thought to talk to you about it because I remember you told me Yang might know him, and-,"

"Smart move." Blake cuts her off, part of her too afraid to wait and hear what else Pyrrha meant to say. "Pardon the segue, but have the police finished canvasing the area where they found your guy?"

"My guy," one could almost hear Pyrrha rolling her eyes, "but yeah, they did. They found the window he fell out of -his blood at the scene, you know- but the room inside was empty, no trace of anyone."

Blake's jaw clenches, molars creaking lightly.

"But I get the feeling this Butcher isn't the same guy who did the scarification. That means there's probably more than one abuser."

"I know there is."

"But...Blake?"

Her mouth opens to answer, but the words die in her throat as she hears the bedroom door creak open from across the house. "I can tell you more about it when I see you Monday. But think about what I said, try to see him again if for no other reason than to have a reasonable outlet for your impulsive need to apologize."

Blake doesn't expect Pyrrha to laugh at that, because the words had an unintentional edge to them, but she does.

"Okay, Blake, thanks. I'll see you Monday. Tell Yang I said hello."

"I will. Goodbye." and then she ended the call with a tap of her thumb, setting the device down on the counter in order to give her full attention to the stove. Not even a minute passes before she feels the weight of one strong, muscular arm pulling around her waist.

Then there's a stout body lining the Faunus' spine and lips at her neck. "Morning, baby." comes a soft, warm rumble.

"Good morning." Blake reaches with her free hand, sliding her lithe fingers between Yang's thicker ones.

"Mmm, you're making breakfast in your pajamas, you know what that does to me." Yang grins against her shoulder before kissing the bit of bare skin there. "Who was on the phone?"

"Pyrrha. Work stuff."

Yang hums in acknowledgment. "No offense, but I don't want to know."

"None taken, because I wasn't going to tell you." They both know how precarious it could be, so they both know when to keep their distance. "But it's good to see you out of bed at a decent hour."

"All for you." Yang's arms just squeezes, pulling them that much tighter together. "Do I have time for a shower?"

"Sure." and she's quietly grateful that she didn't have to push Yang to do it. Depression isn't exactly the most hygienic of illnesses. "Take your time."

"Thanks. And I'll wait until I've brushed my teeth before trying to shove my tongue down your throat."

"Much appreciated." Blake giggles, squeaking when that big, strong hand pops against her butt.

-----

Pyrrha creeps up to the ajar door, peeking through the opening as if to see the coast is clear before carefully -carefully- pushing through. Almost immediately she tries to double back, having looked into the bed to see him sleeping. Mentally berating herself she spins on her heel to try and leave.

"Hey, it's okay, you can stay."

"I'm sorry," She turns again, slowly, cringing with guilt. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I wasn't sleeping, just resting my eyes." which is true; they feel sore and swollen, like the knot on the back of his head. Jaune tries a hesitant smile. "It's good to see you."

"Velvet said you asked about me,"

"Yeah." he nods and pulls a hand down his face. "I want to apologize. For the other day."

Pyrrha exhales, relieved for a reason she can presently name. She smiles back at him sweetly, softly. "You don't have anything to be sorry about."

His eyes avoid her. "Sure I do. I was awfully rude."

"Jaune, listen," she weighs the words first, bracing herself to say them in hopes of them not being the wrongs ones. "I...you've been through a lot, I can tell, even without all the gory details. And I know...you're still going through a lot. Everything...I bet you feel overwhelmed all the time. Like things are never going to get easier."

"Some times, yeah." he nods again. "But that's not an excuse to snap at you, or anyone else. I'll do better."

"And I appreciate the effort. But, by the same token, I probably wasn't helping matter with my being nosy,"

"You weren't being nosy,"

"I was, so I brought you something." She has a brown paper bag tucked under her arm, and lets it settle on one hand to reach inside it with the other. Pyrrha pulls out a plastic container. "A peace offering."

He smiles and finally meets her gaze."You didn't have to do that, it's not like I'm mad at you."

"I insist." she says, leaving no room for debate. "Plus Velvet told me you haven't been eating much, so I thought maybe something home made would help your appetite. Because, let's face it, hospital food kind of sucks."

He just nods again, forgoing the explanation that it wasn't a stunted appetite, but just a sense of familiarity of going long periods without being able to eat. His brain was telling him he wasn't hungry, even though he had only had small bites for the last few days. Can't let you eat too much, clients don't pay for fat.

Still, Jaune laughs and relents to take the container and the plastic spoon sitting on top of it when she passes it forward. He likes the soothing warmth coming through to his hands. Popping off the lid lets a little steam waft up into his face, gives him a chance to catch the powerful aroma. "Can I ask what it is?"

"My mom's chicken curry, at least it's my best attempt at it." she giggles and shifts on her feet. "You ever had curry before?"

"If I have I don't remember."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she gasps.

"It's okay." Jaune laughs as he takes the spoon in his hand. Before taking a bite he looks up at her. "You can sit if you want. Unless you have somewhere to go,"

"Oh, no, not really. So, yeah...guess I'll sit." she all but scurries to the only chair in the room, sitting prim and pristine in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"You're awful nervous for a lawyer, can't imagine what you're like in the courtroom." one last snicker before he puts the loaded spoon in his mouth. "...This is actually really good. Would you be mad if I ate it all?"

"I brought it for you." she assures him, her smile a little smug.

"Thank you," he says quickly, excited even, taking three more quick spoonfuls. He tucks it in his cheek long enough to ask, "so why aren't you in court? How'd you land this job?"

"Well," she shifts in the seat, getting comfortable for what she has always thought was a lengthy, somewhat boring story, "I actually started out on this hospital's legal team shortly after I got married, I've been here about seven years. Spent the first half of that just on retainer, I was hardly even hear most of the time, though. But I eventually found what I initially thought was just an enormous amount of improperly coded bills, but that turned into a fraud ring that almost the entire staff was in on."

Jaune stopped shoveling food in his mouth long enough to look at her with wide-eyed surprise.

"I built the case from the ground up, almost by myself because I couldn't trust the rest of the team, and I led the prosecution...three quarters of the hospital staff was let go after all was said and done. After that I founded the Patient Advocacy department."

"Wow." Jaune manages around a full mouth, then he swallows and chuckles. "Nice to know I have Wonder Woman on my side."

"Oh, stop," she blushes and buzzes her lips. "Being a decent human being isn't a super power."

"Sure could have fooled me."

"I...yeah, I guess so." she feels her ribs clench with sympathy. He'd been through so much, she's surprised he has any hope in human kindness left at all. "Still, super power or not, I'm going to put it all towards helping you."

By now he's finished, the empty container in his lap and between his hands. For a moment he just rests there, looking satisfied and full and strangely more human. He lets out a shallow but contented sigh before lifting his head and looking at her, his expression and blue eyes the softest she's seen yet.

"You know...I think I'm starting to believe it." though he isn't sure why. What's so different about her? Why no anxiety, no suspicion? How is it possible that he can find more trust for her than for the doctors who literally saved his life?

But now that softness leave his face again, replaced with deep lines and shadows. "I, um...I remembered a little more...if you want to know."

Pyrrha blinks. "Oh? I mean, you don't have to tell me now. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I could find an officer to take a statement,"

"No, no, you don't...I'd rather it be you."

"Okay, whatever you're most comfortable with."

He nods, grateful but unable to say so as his mouth has dried a little. "I, um," he clears his throat, feeling the anxiety tugging at his ribs, "The marks on my back. I don't know what they look like, but I remember the title of the one who did it. They called him the Artist...and he had a tail. At least...that's what I think it was. I...I think I woke up too soon, he was still...working on me, I guess."

Pyrrha doesn't realize she's holding her breath, only that her pulse has picked up and her stomach is about to drop.

"I mean, I could have dreamed it all -I was on a lot of drugs- but...something tells me it's real. And...the guy kept calling me Rabbit. That was my title." and that last bit he says with a sense of awe, maybe, as if he's remembering it in real time. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry, that got weird."

"No, not at all. You're doing great." she assures him, hoping the sparks of anger and empathy aren't audible. "Thank you for telling me, Jaune, I appreciate the trust. I'm going to add it to your file, is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure, guess so. If it helps you."

"It's going to help a lot of us." she nods. "Speaking of which, I need to get back, I've got work waiting on me."

"Sorry to keep you." though his remorse is tarnished by the little smirk he offers her. "See you tomorrow?"

She stands up, approaching the bed to retrieve her container with his nod of thanks. "I'll try and squeeze you in to my busy schedule."

"Hopefully not too hard, broken ribs you know."

She laughs, gods above she can't help but laugh just like she can't help the redness rising up into her cheeks again. "Get some rest."

"Yes, ma'am."

#jaune doe #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #bumbleby #blake x yang #blake belladonna #yang xiao long

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direwombat · 2 years

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tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton for wip wednesday and @poetikat a day or two ago to share some of a wip!

taggin: @natesofrellis, @thomrainer, @adelaidedrubman, @strafethesesinners, @strangefable, @funkypoacher, @harmonyowl, @schoute, @aceghosts, @confidentandgood, and anyone else wanting to share anything they have (but no pressure, as always)

i just published ch 5 of fragile creatures and i don’t really work ahead, so everything i have for ch 6 is super rough, but here’s something that’s polished enough to share. it still needs a lot of work lmao but it’s better than the skeletons and single lines of dialogue/description or notes that are my other wips...

“So,” he sniffs. “Put any thought into how you wanna die?”

Pratt doesn’t look at him, or answer.

“No? You don’t give me any input and I’ll have to decide for you. And I gotta say, Peaches, whatever I come up with, you’re not gonna like.” He slices a piece of apple and pops it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

He watches for any reaction, but Pratt gives him nothing. Just a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. Disappointing. Jacob thought he’d be a wreck by now. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a choice,” he continues. “One of two options. Either A,” he holds his index finger up, “I crucify you. Hike you up somewhere into the mountains and nail you to some trees and leave you up there all by yourself. Someone may find and save you. Or you’ll die a slow, agonizing death.”

Still nothing, save for the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Or,” he says, holding up his second finger. “You’re shot. Back of the head. Executioner’s style. Hell, I’ll do it myself if you want. Nice and quick. Comparatively painless. Caveat is you gotta dig your own grave first -- assuming you want one. I’m not making my men waste their time putting your body to rest. Otherwise your body’s being fed to the wolves. Might be the only useful thing you’ll ever be good for.”

And Pratt still remains a statue, huddled in his little corner of the cage. The deputy isn’t a resilient man. He bows and bends at the slightest hint of pressure. Getting him to break had been easy. But for some reason, it’s here that he’s found some resolve. If Jacob were a more charitable man, he might even find his newfound conviction admirable. Pratt has only known Deputy Rook for only a few months, yet he’s confident she’ll put her neck on the line just to save him.

But Jacob isn’t a charitable man, and he thinks Pratt is naive and a fool.

“She’ll be here,” Pratt rasps, his voice rough from pain and thirst.

Jacob gives him a look. Amused but pitying, the same kind of look one gives a child who failed entertainingly at whatever task they were attempting. “Whatever helps you get through the day, Peaches,” he says.

annnnd here’s a snippet from the charlie/paola pre-ship fic that i’ll finish someday....no paola in this particular scene, but have some fun old fashioned heist planning with charlie + the lost legacy trio

He raises his hand. Chloe nods at him. “Yes, Charlie?”

“What are we gonna do about the provenance documents?” he asks.

Sam scoffs. “Provenance documents,” he parrots. “Lookat you using big boy words.”

“Fuck off, it’s a legitimate question,” Charlie bristles. “This guy’s a scumbag, but he’s by the book, right? Technically he bought the piece legally, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chloe says slowly, and he’s suddenly a little uncomfortable with how everyone’s eyes are on him now.

“Then there’s gonna be a paper trail. It’s not gonna matter how long we sit on it, the second we try to fence it, alarm bells are gonna go off somewhere. And if it can get traced back to us…”

“Bad news bears,” Sam finishes.

Charlie points at him. “Exactly.”

Chloe chews thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek. “Okay, so we steal the provenance documents too. Easy.”

Charlie shakes his head. “Won’t be enough. We’ll need to get the digital files too.”

Chloe pulls a face, puffing her cheeks out and exhaling heavily. It’s so much easier to steal from other criminals. Nadine frowns, working her jaw as the cogs turn in her head, and Sam drums his fingers against the counter. Then he says, “I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe asks.

Sam nods. “You’re sending me in through the front door anyways. We’ll pick up a USB or something at the airport and I’ll figure out a way to get into his office. Easy peasy.”

They all know it’s anything but, but there’s no way to hash out a more concrete plan without actually getting eyes inside this guy’s mansion.

“What do we do once we have the documents, then?” Nadine asks.

Charlie shrugs. “Find someone who can forge them?"

“Do we know any forgers in Italy?” she asks the table. Both Chloe and Sam shake their heads.

Charlie awkwardly clears his throat. “Well, there’s Miss Orsini, right?”

The silence that follows his question drags on for an eternity.

Then Sam bursts into laughter. “You’re joking, right?” he says, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “After last time, I don’t think she’ll be too keen on the idea of working with us again.”

“Naw, mate, she just doesn’t want to work with you again,” Charlie responds. He doesn’t know much about the history between Sam and Miss Orsini, but he does know that the events of the previous job working with her put him squarely on her shit-list. But she seemed to still be on professionally amicable terms with both Nadine and Chloe last he heard.

“She’s a civilian, Charlie,” Nadine says dismissively.

“One who specializes in the preservation of both digital and paper records.”

“I have seen her literally pull ink off of paper,” Sam says quietly.

Nadine sighs. “Alright, I’ll talk to her. But I won’t make any promises.”

#wip wednesday #wip: fragile creatures #brain hasn't been good for writing recently but here's some stuff

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