Wild Hunt

Prologue

Strangely pale, almost ethereal sunlight filters through the heavy iron grate that makes up the ceiling of the desolate room. Several strings of heavy, rough metal chains hang from the bars, some slackened and barely moving by a missable current of air, while one set of links is taught and rigid with weight. Below, in torchlight and shadows, a woman is restrained with her hands kept painfully high above her head. Her wrists are bloodied and bruised from hours of resistance, and blistered from the reaction of iron to her bare skin. Sweat rolls down her pale, bare body, droplets stinging other sores and bar-shaped blemishes that almost form a pattern.

Across from her is another woman, this one much smaller in stature. Her bi-colored hair matches her bi-colored eyes and is kept in a high ponytail, not wanting to muss it while she works, no doubt. She grins sinisterly, rolling a seemingly plain looking iron spoke along her fingers. She's looking the other, older woman over, curious and contemplating. Then she half turns to look behind her, to the space between a pair of torches where a third woman waits, propped against the hewn stone wall.

Bold, burning amber eyes flicker from the dull shadows between the flames, and they gaze unyieldingly at the helpless woman; a Witch, she reminds herself. Her chest expands and contracts lazily, inhaling and exhaling through her nose in a way that sounds like a tired sigh. "Still nothing to say?"

The Witch is silent.

"You know she can do this all day?" those amber eyes flit towards the much smaller woman. "She actually enjoys it, so it isn't like you can wait for her to tire out."

There's a jerk of shaky movement, and the Witch lifts her head. Between matted strands of ghostly white hair is the weary but defiant shimmer of naturally red irises.

"Where is the Cornerstone, Salem?"

Still silent.

"Where is the Scribe?"

A loud pop of a swallow. "I. Don't. Know."

The amber eyes roll, exasperated, and the woman comes away from the wall and steps into the pale light. "All that work just to tell me what I don't want to hear," she shakes her head, rich, dark hair gently tossing about her shoulders. "Worst part is I know you're not lying." She eyes the sigil on the floor. "However," as she passes the smaller woman she takes the iron spoke into her own hand, starts to roll it in her fingers too. "All that means is that I'm asking the wrong questions."

Salem's hands clench into fists overhead, her eyes fixed anxiously on the bit of metal, her mind already feeling the burn of it though it has yet to touch her. She knows it's coming. She'll flinch when it comes near her face, an almost body-wide jerk that makes the dark-haired woman laugh. Her breath smells of ash and brimstone. The iron crosses Salem's forehead, pushing her messy hair from her face and leaving a raw, bright red stripe in its wake. Salem shivers in pain.

"So let me ask you something you do know. Or, at the very least, you should."

Salem bites her lips, her entire face scrunching up as the iron spoke is pressed slow and heavy into her bare stomach, the burning sensation mounting higher and higher until she knows its glowing white as it blackens her skin. She breaks into a fresh sweat and shakes.

"Tell me where I can find an Oracle." and when Salem doesn't answer quickly enough, she just adds to the pressure behind her clenched fist, leaning in and pressing her cool forehead to the Witch's wet and heated one. "Surely you know one. Some of you broom-riders carry them around in your purse, for gods' sakes."

Salem whimpers, trying to focus and breathe and not scream.

"Come on," she goads softly, twisting the spoke, the Witch half buckling because she can't drop to her knees.

Salem tastes the acrid shock of blood in her mouth, her lips throbbing under the cut of her teeth. Now she's shaking so hard the links of iron rattle above her. There's the faint hiss of cooking flesh. She shakes her head, defiant though wordless.

"Just a name, that's all I need." Now she's twisting it back and forth, grinding it in until she's fairly certain she feels the firm resistance of bone somewhere.

Still trembling, Salem slumps against her, her forehead slipping to the other woman's shoulder as a muffled scream grinds its way out of her chest.

"This is only going to get worse, I can assure you, so just tell me." and she smiles, golden eyes glowing, as the Witch sobs against her.

"Y-you...you're going to fail. You'll be destroyed if you pursue this."

"That's not up to you," she chuckles softly, "you're not that kind of Witch. Now give me a name."

"You won't...be banished back to that-" another scream reigned in behind her teeth and painfully tight jaw, "th-that hellscape you came from. You...will cease. To be."

"If I fail, then I might as well." Her grin cuts wider, showing fangs. "This is the last time I will ask nicely." She pushes a little harder, something giving beneath her grip, and then she can smell flesh and blood burning. "A name, please."

Salem is only able to hold out for another moment, all the while squirming and sobbing at the wretched pain of hot iron in her stomach. Finally she sputters, half choking. "Scarletina," she heaves jaggedly, "S-Scarletina."

Relenting, the golden eyed creature under the guise of a woman pulls back and sighs in contentment. "Thank you." She turns away, handing the bit of metal back to her accomplice as she passes. "Give her a moment to catch her breath, then, by all means, do as you please. I have work to do."

"The Wild Hunt will find you, Cinder!" Salem cries, pulling against her restraints like it's a last, desperate effort.

"They will certainly try."

(II)

Jaune and Pyrrha sit across from each other at the table, mostly quiet as she watches him scarf down his breakfast -he needs to hurry or he'll be late for work. Pyrrha knows staring is rude, but she can't help herself. She's found herself staring a lot lately, actually, staring and thinking about notions that have been tickling her mind for over a week now. She wonders whether or not she should talk to him about them. She decides again not to, instead touching his foot with hers and rubbing them together beneath table. With stuffed cheeks he raises his eyes and smiles at her, returning the gesture gently as he's wearing boots and she's barefooted.

His eyes flit down for a brief second, then he swallows. "You okay? You're not eating."

"Hm? Oh," she laughs to herself, "I'm fine. Just distracted I guess." Then she finally picks up her fork and uses it, pushing a clump of scrambled egg around her plate before scooping it up.

"Are you worried about your last turning? I mean...it's been a little weird for a while."

"Not really, no. Mother says it can change over time." she feels a little flutter in her chest as she comes up with a white lie. "Maybe it means I'm close to being able to control it."

"Wouldn't that be something?" he gives his wife a particular grin and then goes back to the last of his food. In the next moment he stands up and carries his soiled dishes to the sink, rinsing them off before coming back to the table. "But you're sure you're okay? I can stay home if you need me,"

"I'll be fine, I promise. Now give me a kiss." She gently demands, lifting her chin in preparation for his swift response. She cups the back of his neck with one hand to hold him there for an extended few seconds, just to get the scent and taste of him fresh in her head, and then releases him. Jaune gives her one last peck on the forehead before heading out of the kitchen towards the front door. Pyrrha listens for the bright jingle of keys and then the door opening and closing, then breathes a sigh of some sort of relief when she hears his truck rumble to life and start down the gravel path towards the main road.

Pyrrha never liked being home by herself, doubly so since she and Jaune married and became proper mates. It left her anxious and feeling exposed, but it's a little different today; today it's the anxiety of possibly keeping a secret. After a moment she shakes her head and pushes the jitters down, finishing her food before hurrying upstairs to prep herself for the day. Dressed and groomed and jittery all over again she comes back downstairs, taking enough time to write and pin a short note on the refrigerator for Ren and Nora should they get home before she does. As she sticks the note to the appliance she hears the dull roar of an engine in the driveway, a bigger engine than the one in Jaune's little truck.

Heading out the front door she sees the sunlight glinting off the massive, silver SUV sitting on the patch of gravel in front of the house. Pyrrha quickly locks the door and starts towards the vehicle, the driver offering the courtesy of reaching across the front seat and opening the passenger door for her. She has to use the oh-crap-strap over the door to pull herself into the seat.

"Thanks for coming to pick me up, Billy."

"Of course." the response is a smooth grunt as the tall, stocky Bison Faunus adjusts their posture. They push their sleeves a little higher, showing off more of the nests of tattoos on their meaty forearms before putting the car in gear and starting to back up. "Seat belt."

"Oh, right." she chuckles and fumbles with the strap, eventually pulling it across her lap and chest to click into place. "So how have you been?"

There's a little jerk as the gears shift again and Billy hits the gas. "Alright, I guess, not too busy. Tag and I have been getting more time together."

"Ooh, I bet she's happy about that."

"So am I." they chuckle, a smooth, low registered sound. "I'm really thinking about asking her to marry me."

"You should." no hesitation. She had known Billy for years, they had been her Handler when she first moved to Vale, and she knew damn good and well how much they fancied the Gatekeeper they often shadowed during their primary work as a Shaman. "I bet she'd say yes."

"I feel the same, honestly, it just hasn't felt like the right time. If that makes any sense." they pause the car just at the edge of the highway, taking the time to look both ways and prod the spring-mounted buffalo fetish glued to the dashboard before starting down the main road.

"Jaune said the same thing, sort of." she remembers that impromptu, almost inappropriate proposal; naked and worried, not even really a question. "He didn't know how to ask."

"Sounds silly. Just ask."

"Could say the same about you." she grins and side-eyes them, to which she only receives a snort, making her giggle.

"Well, enough about me," they clear their throat, using the press of their large palm to turn the wheel. "How are the two of you doing? Jaune still okay?"

She nods and starts into a cliffs notes update of how the marriage has been and how Jaune still has the mark of a Luck Dragon emblazoned on his shoulder for a still unknown reason. The catching up passes between them for most of the ride, until they get near the heart of Vale proper. It's an area Pyrrha had only been a few times, not nearly often enough to readily know where she is or how far it is to the nearest familiar landmark. Billy, on the other hand, makes this commute, at the very least, every week. The Schnee Cabal is their main contractor and they own a quarter of the city, including the Nicholas Schnee Specialties Clinic where the Shaman parks their vehicle.

"You want me to come in with you?"

"I'm a big girl, I think I can handle it. I don't know how long the appointment will take, though."

"That's okay. Tag likes for me to text her when I'm not busy, so I'll be occupied."

"Alright, tell her I said hello."

"Will do."

Pyrrha can feel the jitters crawling back up from the soles of her feet as she walks into the clinic and up to the reception counter. Her hand shakes as she signs in, and she stutters when she thanks the young lady behind the counter before blushing and going to sit in the lobby. Then she jumps a little bit when the nurse calls on her, apologizing as the young man leads her back into the hallway and to an empty exam room to wait a while longer. When the doctor comes in they exchange the typical pleasantries and questions, then the less than typical ones as the topic leans towards the supernatural. The doctor inquires to Pyrrha's heat cycles and their effects on her husband, and also to the nature of her changes during the full moon, and she just nods as Pyrrha answers and explains it to the older woman's satisfaction. Pyrrha doesn't like that she can't read the doctor's response, but accepts it, just as she accepts and yields to a blood test.

The doctor said the results only take ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity passes between between Pyrrha getting her finger pricked and the older woman telling her that it's positive. Pyrrha's expression stretches, lights up. "It is? Really?"

"Yes, ma'am. Congratulations."

After being told so many times how unlikely it was, that it might even be impossible because Jaune was human...gods above. She takes a breath, a quick one that fills her lungs to capacity as if she means to shout, but she reigns it in at the last second. Her face reddens and she starts to tear up a little, laughing unevenly instead. "W-wow, I...I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll make an appointment to come back and see me in about nine weeks. By then we should be able to see how far along you are and where to go from there."

"Oh, o-okay, of course."

Everything after that is mostly a harried blur of things and noises that she'll only partly remember. The clearest part of the next few hours is how she feels -elated, terrified, a mess of everything really, and that her hands keep touching her belly. She misses most of the conversations she has with anyone, completely forgets about Billy's little worry over Tag never texting them back. She's fairly certain she said something to them in regards to it, but has no way of being sure. Billy will stay when they get back to the house, reminding Pyrrha that she had at some point invited them to.

It's not until Jaune gets home that evening that everything seems to settle back into place. He comes through the door, keys jingling like they had that morning, and Pyrrha all but jumps up from her seat to jog across the living room to greet him. They hug and kiss and exchange a few muffled words, nothing nearly as important as what she tells him next.

"What?" he wasn't sure he heard her correctly, never mind how they're nose to nose. "What did you say?"

She laughs, tearing up again like she had earlier. "I'm pregnant." His eyes are wide and a brighter blue than she's ever seen and she knows he's feeling the same thing she is. "We did it."

"B-but," he pants a little, "everybody told us we might not,"

"But we did."

"Oh my god." and he dissolves into a babbling fit of half formed sentences broken up by kisses and laughter and they're both just a mess and don't care that Billy and Ren and Nora are just watching them make a spectacle of themselves. For the Kirin and the Elemental, it's actually quite cute to see them like this.

And they'll remember the moment with a bitter sweetness five weeks later, when Pyrrha miscarries.

(III)

Cinder strides comfortably through a veil of silk curtains into the Oracle's parlor, taking a half interested look around the small room and its brown and bronze finery. Heady incense hangs in the still air though there is no visible smoke, the Oracle's last client likely hours gone now. She recognizes some of the odors, flinches at them as they bristle her supernatural senses and try to force her to remember things she'd sooner not. In front of her is a low laying and round table, a stone bowl full of ashes in the middle of it, surrounded by plump cushions -common furniture for readings of all kinds. Cinder settles down on one, resting on her hip with her elbow on the table. She only has to wait for a few moments, having begun drumming her fingertips with impatience by the time the Oracle arrives.

Oracles are always women, and their abilities tend to favor Faunus blood, meaning that Cinder shows no surprise at the long, auburn rabbit ears that sit atop the young woman's head. She watches her and the Sentinel that lingers just over her shoulder, taking note of the tattoos on the seemingly human woman's face -they look like crosshairs. They briefly whisper to each other before the Sentinel steps out of sight, and then the Oracle sits across from Cinder.

Before a single word passes between them, Cinder passes forward a neat stack of Lien bills, sliding them across the smooth surface of the table and not removing her hand from it until the Oracle means to take it. The Faunus won't count the money, certain it is the proper amount -surely she would know if a potential client would try to stiff her. She just cradles the stack in her palms that rest in her lap.

"So what would you have me look into?" the Faunus has a distinct Managerine accent.

"You don't already know?" Cinder smirks.

The Oracle chuckles, her ears tilting back. "That's not quite how this works."

"I know, but I just had to ask, just this once. Needed a good laugh, you understand." a light exhale. "Tell me where the Cornerstone is, Miss Scarletina."

Velvet straightens, every last trace of the gentle smile wiped clear of her face as her ears sink further back. She blinks once, twice, then she appears to try and respond. She sputters, confusion knitting her tender brow as nothing cohesive forms.

"You can't lie to me." and her smirk cuts into a full smile, those telling fangs of hers exposed. She had put sigils on several of the bills, hedging her bets against half truths and open ended answers, among other things. "Now, I would like my reading, please."

A certain pallor has come over the Oracle's face, but, ultimately, so does resignation. The old laws demanded she continue; she had accepted payment, so she was obligated to render a service. Resignation is tainted with quiet resentment as Velvet slides the money into a little box under the table, retrieving a purse of incense in the same turn. She places a handful of it into the stone bowl between them.

"Need a light?" Cinder offers, not waiting for an answer as she leans forward and softly snaps her fingers, a spark flying from the point of impact and landing on the incense. Smoke immediately begins to curl and spiral upward.

Glaring at Cinder all the while, Velvet pulls the bowl of embers closer, leaning forward until it's just beneath her so the smoke curls under her chin. Eventually she'll shut her eyes and start breathing in the fumes, deep draws of it disappearing into flared nostrils in rhythmic lungfuls. A dull static begins to crackle in the small space, the air itself seeming to gain some weight as the energy shifts and mounts. Cinder can feel the small hairs on her body starting to bristle, she shivers but subdues any physical reaction to it.

Velvet's ears suddenly lilt forward, move independently of each other in no certain patter for a moment, then prick straight up and stock still. The air shifts again, the static popping, and then the Oracle's eyes open to reveal they've become a solid white. Cinder just smiles and waits. A half hour will pass before the trance ends, Velvet suddenly blinking back into awareness and to the reality of heavy droplets of blood falling from her nose and snuffing the few remaining embers in the bowl. She pants, seemingly exhausted, and softly calls to her Sentinel who is quick to respond. She already has a bottle of water waiting for her charge, handing it over before fussing over the crimson streaks around her mouth. Velvet has to convince her to leave again, assuring her protector that she's more than fine. She obeys, but not before eying Cinder with obvious disapproval and suspicion, to which Cinder just grins like a jackass.

"So what did you see?" Cinder purrs.

"I saw what you're after...and what you've done."

"Oh?" she doesn't appear the least bit worried, just intrigued.

"You murdered Salem Ashita."

"And?"

"And she was right. The Wild Hunt will find you."

"Certainly not through you," Oracles are sworn to neutrality, after all.

"And so will Salem's sisters."

A little flinch, just barely there at the corner of her mouth. "Just tell me what you saw."

"I saw that silver is your least favorite color."

"Just how lucky are rabbit ears? Are they as good as feet?" Cinder can feel the snap of brimstone in her throat, and she knows the gold of her eyes is beginning to burn as her patience wanes.

Velvet scowls, her ears tilting back, almost out of sight behind her head. Beneath the table she has a hand around each ankle, feeling a thick scar that goes half way around one of them. "I saw the prince in his tower."

"...What? That's all?" Cinder's well acquainted with Oracle's speaking in riddles and twisted truths, but this is borderline ridiculous.

Velvet bites her tongue. Some truth sigils can be tricked by lying through omission, but she finds that she isn't so lucky as a twisting pain starts tightening her chest. A slow forming wince tightens her face before she is compelled to continue. "The prince is in his tower, minding his inheritance. Protecting mother's secret."

For a long, tense moment, Cinder regards the Oracle with seething scrutiny, amber eyes thin and glistening as she thinks. Velvet meets her gaze with a concern that's well hidden, but not completely so. "That's everything I could see about the Cornerstone, I swear."

"I believe you." Cinder's response is almost a hiss. She wants to kill the Faunus for being so damn useless, but knows better. Murdering an Oracle would have the Wild Hunt waiting for her outside.

Then Velvet's eyes sharpen as well, matching her client's. "I also saw your death."

"I didn't ask about that."

"But you like stuff for free, right? I mean, who doesn't?" Velvet smirks now, watching Cinder stand up.

"I won't kill you, but I'll happily cut out your tongue,"

"Before Coco tears you apart? No one's that fast." A light chuckle.

"Then choke on your fortune." Cinder bites, hoping to turn and leave before another word passes between them. Still, she doesn't move fast enough to miss Velvet's warning to watch out for wolves in the future.

(IV)

Pyrrha carefully navigates around the kitchen island while holding the largest coffee mug she had ever seen in both hands, handing it off to Billy once they are within arm's length of each other. They thank her with a nod and a grunt, no eye contact, and she accepts with the same. They're both depressed and, while it's for entirely different reasons, they sought each other out for comfort; a learned behavior from when Billy was her Handler and the newly independent Alpha Female felt touch starved and lonely. The Faunus watches Pyrrha make her own cup of something warm and soothing before she comes to sit beside them. For a while they're alone together, still saying nothing.

Jaune was away attending his aunt's funeral. Pyrrha was surprised to hear the event was for immediate family only, neither she nor any of Jaune's sisters' partners could attend. Though part of her is glad, she wasn't of the mind to see her mother-in-law, much less be surrounded by half-acquaintances and death all day. She hasn't been of the mind for much socialization at all since her miscarriage -a behavior very unusual for a werewolf.

As for Billy, Tag has been officially missing for almost six months and what few leads they had in the search had gone cold. They couldn't stand to be home alone and they needed to be doing something else, ideally getting some much needed sleep. But they settle for this quiet company instead, because sleeping is too much like doing nothing.

There's no knowing for certain how long they're like that before the heavy stillness of the kitchen is broken up by motion at the back door. Ren lets himself in, the lingering shimmers of his glamor just fading as he acknowledges the two other occupants in the space. He and Billy have a quick exchange in a language Pyrrha doesn't understand, whereas she's content to just offer her housemate a weak smile in greeting.

"May I join you?" he asks, his tone naturally soft.

"Of course." Pyrrha tries to sound happy for the extra company, but she knows that he knows she's fibbing her ass off. "There's still hot water for tea if you want."

"Thank you." And as he goes he mentally takes measure of the tension in the room. He is very sensitive to it, his kind is just that way, though he's certain he wouldn't have to be in this case. He doesn't allow himself to make too much noise while he searches for his favorite teacup, and all the while he reaches out with a touch of magic to try and understand what the others are feeling. Billy is more than obvious, they've never hidden from his senses and now is no different. Pyrrha, on the other hand, makes him pause in the middle of pouring water into his cup.

Ren eventually joins them at the island, sitting across from them and briefly mimicking their positions, hunched over his cup with his chin dipped near his chest. When he lifts his head he's looking at Pyrrha, and then it inches left to right, curious in a dog like way, then...

"You're pregnant again."

Pyrrha visibly winces, her brow furrowing. She takes a deep breath and takes a mouthful of coffee to try and suppress the urge to cry. "I...I had a feeling."

"I thought...you and Jaune weren't trying anymore?"

"The condom broke." she laments softly, her head dropping into one palm.

"Have you told him yet?" Billy asks, caution lacing the question.

"No, I've been afraid to. I don't want to get his hopes up...or maybe I think I'll jinx myself."

The other two just nod, knowing something as ridiculous sounding as that is actually more likely than most think.

"You're not going to try and hide it from him, are you?"

"I...I don't know." and she resists another urge, this one to say more, to talk about her suspicions of already having miscarried a second time. She hadn't even felt the change like the first time, but a toilet full of blood is terribly telling for a supernatural that doesn't menstruate like humans.

"...You're debating whether or not to keep it?" Ren queries plainly.

Pyrrha weighs the question, hating the implications behind it almost as much as she hates how easily he asked. Kirin can be that way sometimes, Ren particularly so, but she knows he doesn't mean it in a bad way. He's just...him. "I don't...I'm not sure I could handle that heartbreak again." Because the physical toll of miscarriage is nothing for an Alpha Female, comparatively, but the emotional cost is a whole other matter. "But...I want to be happy. I want us to be happy,"

"Of course you do, but sometimes you have to settle for less than ideal." Ren's cherry blossom eyes slide to Billy when they grunt in bitter agreement. "You need to draw a line somewhere, isn't that how the saying goes?"

Pyrrha nods, taking another deep breath and another deep drag from her mug. "...This will be the last time. After this...well, we'll see what happens and go from there."

Ren reaches across the varnished wood of the island and slides his hand over hers, trying his best to be reassuring yet uncertain if he's successful.

(V)

Four humanoid figures materialize from a portal of crimson and shadow; two are a woman and a man of comparable build, pitch black hair and haunting red irises that are just visible through the slits in their bone white masks. The features of the other two are completely concealed behind matching masks and heavy cloth hoods. The agents of the Wild Hunt emerge from the aether to a scene of blood and blackened stone, the fleeting stench of scorching stirred by the erratic bursts of air that are common at these heights. Strewn about the floor are the remains of the once robust chamber walls, countless hewn bricks now crushed and fractured and still gently smoking. When they realize that whatever battle had been raging here is long since over, they relax and loosen their grips on their mostly concealed host of weapons.

The woman starts across the floor, removing her mask and tucking it to her side as she scans the platform from one side to the other. She sniffs the air intentionally, trying to learn what she can and couple it with whatever visual evidence she can gather at the moment. Though it would only matter so much once her eyes fell on the body propped against what was left of a wall. It's headless, though it isn't actually missing; the man's head rests between his thighs, his hands neatly folded atop the crown of silvery hair. And beside the posed corpse is the ornate, gilded frame of a great mirror, the obsidian glass shattered much like the stone walls, but in a way that suggests it was blown out from the far side. Which, at a glance, seems impossible since the only thing behind the glass is stone.

She kneels between the corpse's knees, head cocking slowly to the side as she studies the remains a little closer. She sighs.

"It could take years for him to come back from this." Comes a gruff shrug from over her shoulder.

"Years enough for the perpetrator to get away with it." she replies flatly. "Whoever it was knew exactly what they were after and how to get it." Because not just anyone comes here, to this plane of existence and this tower beneath a silver sun, to see this man. Jarreth Ozpin. Oz to his friends, and High Minister to everyone else.

"Raven,"

"If that mirror is broken...that means the Cornerstone is gone." no dismay, no fear, only a scowl compliments her neutral tone. Then her brow furrows a little harder as she notices something. "...They took his glasses."

"What?"

"Unless they're lying around here somewhere." she concludes, looking up at her twin brother with hints of her scowl remaining. "Start looking, Qrow, check everywhere, including the courtyard. Get the locals involved if you have to, whatever it takes. And find a Gatekeeper for this plane so it can be closed off."

He nods. "What about you?"

"I'm going back to Agartha, we need to mobilize the other planes as soon as possible." Raven stands in a graceful snap of motion, half turning to gesture to the other Hunters. They're quick to answer, gathering up Ozpin's remains with as much respect for the dead as they can. "I'll send support for you."

Another curt nod. "Happy hunting, sister."

"Happy hunting." and with a flitting gesture of her hand and portal opens up and she disappears inside.

(VI)

Jaune feels his heart pounding against his ribs and hears the blood in his ears, he's shaking from head to toe with nerves and has been since he got the phone call at work nearly an hour ago. How he had managed to drive here without incident is nothing short of a miracle. His hands all but juggle his keys as a he walks the pavement to the supernatural-friendly hospital entrance, dropping them a few times before resolutely shoving them in his pocket where they belong. Jaune is walking a little too fast, almost smacking right into the automatic doors before they open all the way, and strolls right through the place like he knows exactly where he's going. Which he really doesn't.

"E-excuse me, sir? Sir?"

Jaune's head whips around but his body doesn't follow, but, luckily, he stops before bowling over an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. "Me?"

"Yes, sir," the receptionist is visibly relieved, "can I help you?"

For a brief second his jaw just hangs and he stares, seemingly lost. Then he blinks and shakes his head, laughing sheepishly to himself. "Oh, yeah, sorry. M-my wife," his hands fumble as he starts towards the reception counter, "baby," he blurts out.

"Name?"

"Nikos. Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos, I mean,"

She's typing away at a terminal and smiles with a knowing nod. "Ah yes, here she is. Come with me, I'll have to escort you."

"Oh, okay."

Jaune's hands still fuss together in front of him, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him just so he has something to focus on. A question is on repeat in his head; he's wondering why he would need an escort when she could have just given him directions -he's not so blitzed out on nerves that he couldn't do something as simple as that. But then, as the pair of them round a corner, he sees very well the bright neon sheet of paper on the heavy double doors that reads "No Male/Male identifying persons beyond this point" in big, bold lettering.

He's stuttering again. "B-but it-,"

"It's fine for you, you're the father."

The word settled in his brain and then dropped into his stomach. Gods have mercy. Father. He feels a little faint all of a sudden.

The corridor beyond the doors is strangely quiet, most of the doors on either side of it shut with no light coming through the small windows in them. They pass a lone security officer on her rounds before stopping, the receptionist stepping aside as she opens a door and gestures for him to go in. "Congratulations," she says softly before pulling the door closed again.

Inside the amber tinted shadows of the dimly lit room, Jaune finds himself presently stuck where he stands. His hands have stopped fussing, his mind no longer races or cares about the sign outside, and all he can care to acknowledge is his wife's presence. There she is, propped up a little in the bed and only covered to her navel. It's too dark for his human eyes to see the remains of sweat dappling her skin, or for him to see just how messy her hair is. His gaze focuses on her face, how soft it is with sleep, because a part of him is just too shocked and afraid to look at the newborns yet.

Twins. His heart throbs.

Jaune feels himself jump a little as he hears the deep breath Pyrrha takes in through flared nostrils, and again when she looks at him and he sees the flash of eyeshine; her eyes are only like that when it's nearing the full moon. Then ease washes over him in a warm wave when she smiles. "Hey," he exhales quietly, almost too quiet, but he knows she'll still hear him.

"Hello again." she replies, her voice raspy and threaded with exhaustion.

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

"It's all right," she shakes her head slowly, "you probably wouldn't have been let in here anyway." From the moment she had been admitted until after the delivery, it had been Shamans only, a safety measure often observed when werewolves were involved since it wasn't uncommon for them to turn under the physical strain of childbirth. Same reason why it was persona non grata for men; an Alpha Female in labor would instinctively -aggressively- react to any male that wasn't her mate.

"Oh. Okay. So how are you doing?"

"I was great after the epidural." She laughs, a puff of air between her lips. "But I'll be even better once you're close to me."

Jaune is quick to respond, so quick he almost trips over his own feet in his rush to her side. With a tilt of her head Pyrrha directs him to the far side of the bed, showing him there's plenty of room to join her. Carefully, so carefully, he works himself up, and then inches as close to her as possible. Now he can see just how tired she is, that her eyes are dim with fatigue but full of brilliant color like they are during the lunar cycle. She has the makings of claws and fangs too. She'll press and nuzzle his forehead with hers once he's in reach, taking in his scent and feeling immediate comfort as it fills her head.

"Take your shirt off." and even though she isn't looking at him directly, she knows there's confusion on his face. "Skin contact is important for them right now."

"Oh, okay." He complies, swallowing hard when his nerves start up again. "Do...do you want me to take one?"

Pyrrha smiles and nods, waiting until he opens his arms to her. "I think Rahne is finished nursing." at least she hopes so, her breasts are sore. Pyrrha offers her husband gentle direction as he takes up the infant, marveling at her as he holds her with both hands for a brief moment before laying her against his chest. The baby stirs, grunts, and then settles, her tiny fists closing unconsciously in the curls of soft blond chest hair. Without a second thought Jaune starts to stroke the baby's back, much like he would do for his wife.

"Wow." he breathes, barely a whisper. "Wow. And they're both healthy?"

"They are. In fact, Tema is the biggest baby on the hospital's record."

"She takes after her Aunt Nessa." Jaune chuckles, then a little harder, "oh no, she takes after her Aunt Nessa."

"As long as she didn't inherit her appetite, I think we'll be fine." Pyrrha lets her head rest on his shoulder, never mind that it isn't the most comfortable position; she needs his touch just as much as the twins do right now.

Jaune feels a velvety softness under his fingertips, only just now able to acknowledge it as something out of place. "What...is this fur?"

Pyrrha's breath hitches, her brow furrowing for all of a second. "...Yes."

"...That means,"

"They're just like me."

"Well, I figured that out already, I mean they're both redheads." he kisses the top of her head.

"I meant in other ways."

"I know what you meant." another kiss, this one he hopes does something to reassure her. "But you can say it out loud, you know? You can tell me my daughters are werewolves, I'll still love them."

Pyrrha's quiet, not knowing how to respond and much too tired to try and think of something.

"You did it, Pyrrha. We have our own little pack now." Jaune takes a deep breath, seeming to nestle a little deeper into the warm comfort he's found himself surrounded by. "I love you."

"We did it. And I love you too."

Author's Note: I like where this is going so far, and I'm happy to say that this isn't going to be half the monster Embers was. I don't think I have anything like that left in me for the time being, which is far from a complaint. Comments and critiques are more than welcome, and I appreciate you joining me for another heaping helping of arkos. For those of you making your first visit, I highly suggest you take some time to read "Lunacy" which this story is directly tied into. This story comes after the events in that, so it might help some of you with some elements I've presented so far. In any case, hope you enjoy.