"I know you probably wanted to talk to Qrow about this..."

Emerald didn't respond, fidgeting nervously on the couch, eyes darting uncertainly. Amber didn't blame her for it—obviously she wanted to talk with the person she already had a bond with, they guy who had walked her through one crisis by suddenly becoming mature and fatherly out of nowhere. Amber still thought they should have done this sequentially, instead of simultaneously, but Glynda had recommended that this initial contact was crucial, they needed to have a clear, one-on-one connection that could be followed up by other meetings, but they all had to talk to someone now.

And so, Amber, who barely felt like an adult, ever since she first had these powers thrust upon her, had to take up the role and talk to someone. And so she picked Emerald.

A big part of it was that Emerald was the only one of these kids Amber even began to know, and she didn't envy Qrow getting stuck with the one who, according to Yang, had a massive breakdown. Let the adults in the room handle that situation. Amber, though, Amber knew Emerald. Not as well as she'd like, especially for this, but she knew that Emerald was a shy, sweet kid who just needed some nurturing. And Amber could give that.

At least, she hoped she could.

"I just want you to know," she said, hoping to sound sympathetic and open, "I'm here for you, Emerald. I've… ever since you hung out with us, the night after the party, I've felt like… well, I mean," hell, she was losing her track, she had to get to something like a point here! "I really do like talking to you. Not just because, you know, it's my job to protect you, and not just because I really want everything to work out for you—which I do!" she quickly added, "But I don't… I don't get to talk to that many people, and it was nice to just have fun. You let us lighten up a lot, and… and that's helped. A lot."

From the look on her face… Amber actually had no idea what to make of it, but it didn't seem like she'd already blown it. Still, Emerald wasn't exactly the easiest to read. And… Amber had plenty of time to make things worse.

"Hey," she said, softly, "You know, if all you need is someone to listen to you… I know how important it is to sometimes just… blow off some steam and complain about stuff. That's why I hang out with Qrow so much."

The mention of Qrow brought the hint of a smile to Emerald's face. Amber would never have believed that her gruff handler would be the best equipped to relate to a teenage girl, but she had to hand it to him.

In her head, of course, never out loud.

"Yeah," she laughed, "Qrow and I don't go that far back, but he's a good man when I just need to tell him about everything I hate, and… sometimes, I've got a lot that I need to vent."

"Like what?"

A question! Engagement! Score!

"Mud," she answered with an unforced shudder, "I work out in the wilderness and I never knew how much I would come to hate mud until I had to start roughing it. I don't know if you've got a lot of experience camping up in the Grimmlands, but… oh, do I hate mud. Gods I hate mud..."

Emerald smiled a little wider at that, but her eyes were still low as she asked, "But are there ever… ever things that are really hard? Things you hate that... but you… you're not supposed to hate?"

Amber paled. She could tell where this question was heading. "Ah," she said, stalling for time, "Is this about being a-"

"No!" Emerald quickly cut in, alarmed, "It's not about... it's not about me… liking girls. I'm just… I've always just been there. In the background. I'm the one who doesn't really matter. I don't advise Jaune and I don't lead armies or confront people, my job is to be invisible and overlooked and… and it's really lonely. And I don't... I like who I am and what I do and I'm good at it, but... but I'm not supposed to like it, and... it's just not fair." She looked down. "I know that's not something you really know that much about."

Amber paused. There... was an answer to that, if she dared say it.

"No… actually, I think I get it."

Emerald's eyes went wide in surprise, before she corrected herself, shooting Amber a skeptical look.

"Yeah, I'm not… not quite like your state, but Emerald…"

There was an easy way to do this. To talk about being an "Intelligence Agent" like Qrow, to talk about the loneliness of being a spy and operative. But that would be a lie. And Amber had come here, had chosen to speak to Emerald, because they had something in common. Something secret, her greatest secret, but inescapably true.

"What do you know about the Maidens?"

Suddenly, the girl snapped to sit up straight. "Maidens," she recited, "are the inheritors of the souls of the original four Maidens: Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, one generally operating in each Kingdom. They possess potent elemental magics and often have considerable combat experience, as most Maidens acquire their power by killing the previous holder. Therefore, the ideal tactic against a Maiden is one that prioritizes surprise and does not allow-"

"Ummmm..." Amber interrupted, not sure if she wanted to hear how a teenager had been trained on how to kill her, "I'm a Maiden. The Fall Maiden."

Emerald blinked in surprise. Evidently, she had a similar perspective to the voice in Amber's head that was telling her how dumb it was to tell an assassin that she was secretly a high priority target. But Amber felt like she had an angle here, and one that could pay off. So she had to push it.

"For years, I've been… living in the background of reality. I just… I go places, I fix problems, and, if I did my job right, nobody knows I exist or that I ever did anything. Heck," she laughed, bitterly, "it's my job to make sure nobody knows about me. Ozpin and Qrow and Summer and Tai make sure that I'm a secret. So… I guess I get the warm fuzzies of knowing I helped people, but it sucks that I don't get the praise, you know?"

It seemed like she was partially getting through, but Emerald still wasn't sure. "But you're helping people, and I… I don't… I don't know if I am, not anymore." she admitted, "and I want… Sometimes, I really wish we finally had a war. Cause then I'd be needed."

She looked torn up to admit it, but Amber gave a slow, sad nod. "Sometimes, there's a part of me, that... also wishes that there was a war. That I could stop being in the background and people could finally know that I exist, and that… I could finally be appreciated. I know that's a selfish attitude, but it's true. It's something I feel, and pretending that I don't feel what I do feel isn't… it's dishonest."

"But… Jaune doesn't want-"

"What do you want?"

Emerald froze. She apparently hadn't been expecting to ask that question.

"I want..." she began slowly, but then the emotion started to crack her façade. "I want to be useful, I want… I want Jaune to love me and just accept that I'm- that I'm..."

Amber knew to tread lightly here. But it was a chance to push her on this, to get her to find her own answers. "But... Didn't he already do that? When you came out to him?"

"He, he did," Emerald admitted, but she struggled to find her words. "I just- I don't know what I want anymore! I don't- I just don't know! I want to be useful and I want to fight, but I can't… I don't want to fight you. I can't want to fight you and Qrow and Clover," Emerald lamely bewailed. "I just… I want to be happy, and I want Jaune to be happy with me and I want… why is this so hard?"

Laying a hand on Emerald's shoulder, Amber wasn't sure if she'd take it or if the contact would be pushing things too far, but her efforts were rewarded as Emerald sniffled and seemed to relax from the physical contact.

"I don't… I don't know if I have a good answer for you, Emerald," she admitted. "Life is… life is hard. And sometimes, we're stuck in situations we don't want."

"So how do you do it?" Emerald wailed, tears streaming down her face.

Amber didn't have an answer for that. She knew she'd be asked this question, knew it when she asked to speak with Emerald, but she hadn't figured out how she could answer it. But she knew what she could do.

Wrapping Emerald in her arms, she held the younger woman close and let her just cry.

"I don't… I don't know," she admitted, "But everything I've been able to do… it's because I've had other people with me. That's… that's what makes all the difference."

She held Emerald, making sure the girl felt that she had some stability, a rock to cling to, but her words echoed in Amber's mind.

I can't want to fight you and Qrow and Clover.

They hung deep inside Amber's soul, an icy pit that she couldn't shrug off, even as she kept up a strong front for Emerald's sake. Amber didn't want to fight Emerald. Amber didn't ever want to be in a situation where she'd have to fight any of these kids, but... well, could she deny it? The only reason the Grimmlands weren't at war with Vale was the fact that Vale wasn't sure they could win. Amber and Emerald were... they were enemies, weren't they?

But as much as it might be a fact, might be an immutable truth of the universe that the living and the Grimm were enemies by nature... she couldn't be Emerald's enemy. Not now, not like this. Holding Emerald and telling her everything would be alright, Amber knew she wasn't lying—she believed it. Even if it was doomed or foolish, Amber believed it, and she would cling to that certainty as surely as Emerald clung to her now.

Three of the claimed were categorized as "highest risk of catastrophic outcome." Summer... didn't like how they were categorizing them, but it was true. From what Yang, Qrow, and Amber had been able to report, Emerald and Blake were, while in a bad way, at least openly looking for help. The remaining three's categorization reflected either past incidents (Weiss), geopolitical sensitivity (Jaune), or considerable threat. And that last girl was nervously sitting at the couch across from Summer's right now.

Summer would like to say that she looked nothing more like an ordinary teenage girl, but Pyrrha, despite her clear transformation, never stopped looking like something far removed from her original humanity. A little paler than her birth parents, her hair a little more blood-red, her eyes a more intense green than most. And then there were the bone-white armor plates on her body, visible even beneath the casual shirt and jacket she was wearing, were certainly not something that could be overlooked, but they could be covered.

No, even more than her Grimm features, it was her posture. This was a woman who was never far from violence at hand. Perpetually coiled to strike if needed. She wasn't angry, she wasn't violent, but she was always aware that her being might be called upon to commit violence, and she was ready for it. And Summer had seen her blow right through her entire security cordon like they were an afterthought.

But… Yang had told her that Pyrrha was a lot more than her appearances. That she was, still, a teenage girl, even if she was one from the Grimmlands. And this was something Summer did have some experience in. Supermom. That's what Qrow called her. Started as a teasing nickname from the Branwens for her style of leading Team STRQ, turned into a badge of honor as she stepped in to raise Yang, and then… and then her own, precious little girl.

After how many parent-teacher conferences about Yang getting into fistfights and scrapes at school, after so many mothers had silently judged her or gossiped behind her back that her daughter was anything but ladylike… she couldn't neglect Pyrrha. She pulled at too many of her maternal heartstrings for Summer to let her languish like this.

"Here," she said, producing a paper box and opening it up, revealing a hidden treasure of chocolate chip cookies she placed on the table between them. "Take as many as you want. According to Yang, Ruby never shared the cookies I asked her to at the party."

She smiled warmly towards the girl, and she could see that Pyrrha, as wary and fretful as she seemed, still let a hand cautiously stretch forward and grasp a cookie, bringing it back for inspection… and then a swift consumption. Summer had a flash of memory of her pocketing food earlier, something she had thought was some kind of threat, and now she, guiltily, knew that it was an old scar of a deprived childhood. But Pyrrha, at least, didn't know what Summer was thinking. She seemed to approve, though was careful not to show it too much as she mumbled a cautious thanks. Stress baking was a hobby for Summer, but in this craziness, taking the time to bake cookies hadn't seemed like a good use of time until she saw Pyrrha's careful bites, telling her it had been the right thing to do.

Summer couldn't help but smile at that. Teenagers trying to hide their feelings was a language she was quite fluent in, and that was the one skill she was really bringing here, so it was good to see she had some success with it.

"So… Yang tells me you're quite the fighter..."

She saw the girl's sullen façade ruffle a little, unable to resist a chance to preen on the subject of her martial skill. Yang had confirmed much of Qrow's early assessment—she was the fighter of the five, and displayed her impressive skills in their field mission. However, though Summer had been hoping that it'd be an avenue to getting her talking, she was still just mumbling short, monosyllabic acknowledgements.

Fortunately, Summer was no stranger to taking a new tactic when the old one wouldn't work.

Giving Pyrrha a probing look, it wasn't long before she roused the girl's curiosity. And it wasn't just a tactic—Summer saw a lot of herself in Pyrrha, just as she saw a lot of Ruby and Yang in her. That striving that spoke to her so clearly… she thought she saw a chance to make a connection on that.

She began with a confessional tone. "I used to be the head of Team STRQ. And it was… a lot. You've met Qrow, he was on the team… a lot, ummmm… let's just say 'rougher around the edges' when he was a younger man. And I met my husband through the team. And then..." she felt her throat grow thick as her words dredged up that old grief, "there was Raven. She was… she was Qrow's sister. My Taiyang's first wife, Yang's mother, and... my best friend."

Pyrrha was silent, but noticeably reacted to the words Yang's mother.

Summer continued. "But she had… problems. A lot of problems. And no matter how many times I tried to get through to her, to tell her that she didn't have to keep running around, that she had a place here… It never worked. She couldn't just get it through her head that she wasn't being brave or strong, she was just being proud and that if she could just… could just calm down for a moment, there were people in her life who cared for her. But I never really succeeded. Yang... told me that you're having some difficulties with trying to get through to someone, and, listen, I know what that's like. And not just with Rae. I spend a lot of time worrying about my girls. Yang and Ruby, they're… they mean everything to me. And I know how it is when the ones you love just don't get that you're trying to help them. Listen: I'm my husband's second wife and the mother of two teenagers. I know what it's like when the ones you love drive you crazy because you don't know how to get through to them that you do love them."

Pyrrha gave a little laugh. Not because it was funny, but because… because Summer had gotten through, she supposed. Maybe no more than an inch, but enough that Pyrrha recognized that this whole anecdote, all her guts-spilling was just a way to set up that point.

A weak, wry smile on her face, Pyrrha looked back to Summer… and finally spoke. "You… you know what it's like when you love someone, and they love you, but… but they don't love you like you love them? What… what can I do to… change his mind?"

With a rueful laugh, Summer leaned forward "How many years was I asking myself that very question…" she sighed, remembering crying herself to sleep every date night after Tai and Rae "missed the last Bullhead," or the pain she struggled to bottle up at their wedding. "Sometimes… you just can't change someone's mind, honey."

It hurt her to see Pyrrha's wounded, desperate expression, her clear hope that Summer would have some insight, guidance, or trick that would save the day. But she didn't. She'd seen the look on Yang and Ruby's faces before, the look of realization that, sometimes, mommy couldn't make it all better. That some parts of the world were just unfair.

"If you love someone, you just have to trust them. My... Tai took a while to come around. But you can't force it. It takes trust and patience and... and I know how hard that is."

Summer sighed. She'd been on the front lines of learning everything she could about these kids for as long as they'd been in Remnant, and yet, what did she really know about them? Well... Looking back and Pyrrha, she tried a new tack.

"Yang thinks pretty well of all of you, and... and she's a lot more insightful than you might think."

Another mention of Yang caused a stir in Pyrrha's expression. Her eyes, briefly, darted upwards to Summer's in a brilliant emerald flash. Summer was proud of her girl, for making such an impression on these kids, for being so mature and responsible, and she hoped this would help reach something inside her.

"After she told us you needed help, I asked her... I asked her about all of you. She knows you better than anyone else in Remnant, and... and it's so clear to me that she admires you. She admires how strong you are, how much you care for your siblings. And..." Summer cracked a hesitant smile, "that she was rooting for you two. She really was."

Pyrrha couldn't suppress the faint flicker of a smile across her face to hear that. This was... this was at once something Summer knew all too well, comforting a teenager about an unrequited crush, something she'd had to step in on at Signal more often than not, and something incredibly out of her depth, but both issues were so entwined together, it was hard to tell if she was ever making progress.

"I just..." Pyrrha's eyes slumped down, but her voice was more open now, even confessional. "I'm just tired. It feels like... like none of this matters. I have only ever had one purpose in my life, in my entire life, and... and he doesn't want me. He doesn't want me the way I want him, he doesn't even want me the way I serve him, and if that's all... what's even the point? All I am is a weapon of war for someone who doesn't want me."

Summer was quick to reassure her. "Pyrrha... you're more than a weapon, you're-"

"People don't think that," Pyrrha unexpectedly shot back, a sudden hiss in her voice, "I've seen how everyone's hands stay close to their weapons around us. Even yours."

The accusation hit home, sending Summer reeling. She didn't have time to say anything before Pyrrha pressed the attack.

"Because we're just monsters, aren't we?" Pyrrha asked, her voice tight and strained, "We're not people, not anymore, and so I can't- he can't- I- I-"

Summer didn't interrupt her. She knew that teenage self-loathing was born out of a desire to be heard and sympathized with, and she had to show Pyrrha she was a listener. Even when she hated what she was hearing. And... it was born from a place of horrible, honest truth. Could Summer deny it? Did she not attend regular security briefings and discuss protocols that would never be engaged for any ordinary VIP? Pyrrha was just saying out loud what so many of them had been afraid to say—but not too afraid to let it guide thier actions. As Pyrrha broke down into tears, Summer grabbed a tissue and leaned forward, carefully reaching forward to put her arm on Pyrrha.

But, still, the girl was not willing to show that vulnerability.

"You're not monsters," Summer said, her voice weak, "But… you're right. We do have some of the blame for why you feel that way. All this security, all these panics, I don't… I don't blame you, for feeling like you do."

Pyrrha looked back down, clearly embarrassed by her show of emotion. Summer felt for her, felt for her so deeply, for how unfair and unjust—usually the watchwords of teenage narcissism, hideously true here—her situation was. But that made Summer think… maybe that's what Pyrrha needed to hear. That it was unfair and unjust, and that she wasn't wrong to feel that way.

"We're… Remnant, I mean, we're not very good at dealing with hard things," she confessed, "We call you 'the claimed.' Never capitalized, if you've ever seen it written out. When we talk about the Separation, that's capitalized, that was an event, but you five… I've always felt it was because we didn't like to acknowledge what happened to you. That it wasn't something special or extraordinary, that it was just… like a paperwork matter. Like how luggage is claimed and unclaimed, and I always thought… I always thought that was the most cowardly thing about it all. That we couldn't just admit that this was something extraordinary, that it was scary and harsh and brutal to think about, but… you were going through something worse. And we just wanted to paper over it. To try not to think about it. To move on, when… when it was you five who were buying us this era of peace. And I think we owe you more than we will ever admit, and if what you need is someone to listen to you, to sympathize with you, to mother you… I can do my best. No matter what happens, it's what the world owes you. It's what I owe you."

Pyrrha, a girl who was literally never unarmored, looked so vulnerable in the moment, her eyes wide with pain, and the fear of a wounded animal, unable to trust the help they knew they so dearly needed. And it broke Summer's heart to see it, imagining her own daughters in this situation and struck by a profound sense of powerlessness where she knew she wouldn't be enough.

"I don't… I don't know what you need. I don't know what I can do to help you, but I promise you, I can try. I won't leave you behind. We won't leave you behind. None of you—Jaune and Blake and Emerald and Weiss and you, Pyrrha."

It was the names. The names of her siblings that put the first crack in her armor, making her lip quiver—ever so slightly, but undeniably there—and giving Summer the hope that she'd broken through.

But as soon as she had seen it, it was gone. And Summer was left with a sullen, defensive teenager, a girl unsure of what to do about the awkwardness of the situation or the pain that was chewing her up inside.

She reminded herself what she'd learned from raising Yang through her moody years. Or what she'd learned about herself, when she'd first arrived at Beacon. The truth she was trying to impart upon Pyrrha. The problems of a young adult couldn't be solved in a single day. It took care and love and compassion, but more than anything, it took time. And… hopefully… this conversation was the first step to getting her to open up more.

That was, if the world would give them the time for more.

"So… how'd the talk go?"

Qrow's eyes darted away. "I thought we agreed not to talk about work tonight," he grumbled.

"Yeah, we did say that..." Clover replied, stroking his chin, "But I can tell it's on your mind."

Shaking his head, Qrow lined up his shot. But dammit all, Clover had gotten to him, and his cue struck the ball wrong, turning what should have been an easy cut shot into a dogged mess. With a scowl, he glanced back to his boyfriend. "Goddamn Semblance."

"Well," he chuckled back, "my Semblance's countering your Semblance, so… let's just say it evens out?"

Qrow rolled his eye at Clover's insistence of fair play. It seemed that their Semblances, in Qrow's opinion, weren't quite as calibrated as a simple positive and negative balancing act. As Clover eyed his angle, Qrow sipped his beer, wondering… just how much he ought to open up about things. Did he trust Clover? Absolutely. Quite a bit more than he should, and that was where the problem was.

For all his reputation as a hard-bitten cynic, Qrow was a man who, once trust was given, it was given entirely. He trusted Oz and Summer and Tai without question, and now that he'd let Clover worm his way into his heart… he trusted him too. But Qrow knew that it was dangerous, and, thankfully, Clover knew it as well. They did what they could to sidestep the issues, but both knew that their relationship inevitably meant forwarding what was said to their superiors.

There was a reason intelligence operatives made for poor boyfriends.

But dammit all, Qrow needed to talk with someone about this, and why even have a boyfriend if you couldn't talk to him?

"According to Amber," he began, quietly, "Emerald seems to be doing well."

"Oh?" Clover replied, making his shot, which, of course, made a wild dance around the table before going straight in. "Semblances balance out" his ass.

Qrow, of course, pretended not to notice. "Yeah, Amber talked with her. She came out to her siblings the other day, and… well, it went well for her. But it set off the whole thing I was telling you about."

"Yeah, that's… what was up with that?"

Qrow just raised his arms in a gesture of "I don't even fucking know." Yang had given him a bit of guidance, but she sure wasn't saying what had set it all off. Not to him, at least. "Blake, though," he added, "couldn't help but brag a little about her talents as a spy."

"Oh really?"

Another shot and the 8 ball was in the pocket. He's damn lucky he's cute, Qrow grumbled to himself, but he had to admit—it was Clover's game.

After flexing his victory for a little, his boyfriend started to rack the table for another match.

"Yeah," grumbled Qrow, "She's good, I'll give her that. Real good, and I got the feeling Salem's got an operation that's even better."

"Well," Clover sighed, "I have to say we expected that." But as he was grabbing the balls, he suddenly asked, "But… what do you think of them all?"

"You read the dossier?" Qrow dryly replied.

"I'm assuming it's bullshit," Clover said with a snort.

Heh, straight to the point as always… "Well, you're right and you're wrong. Yeah, it's bullshit, but there's no way to get an answer that's not bullshit. We don't know anything about these kids. Even Emerald, we barely know anything about them, and that… well, I think I had a good talk with Blake. Amber thinks she had a good talk with Emerald. The rest..."

"What's your read?"

"Gonna tell the Ice Queen?"

"Maybe."

Qrow sighed. The hazards of dating an intelligence operative...

"My take's that Summer and Ozpin don't think it went well."

"Hmmm," Clover stroked his chin, pondering the meaning of that. "Nothing overly wrong, but… the sort of thing that's hard to tell?"

Qrow shrugged. "These kids got a lot buried deep, and Summer knows better than anyone how people bury their pain deep-"

His breath hitched as he remembered those long-gone Beacon days, with him and Raven and Tai slowly opening up to their chirpy leader's optimism, and… and the long, painful days that came with that. For him and Rae, especially, and then… the pain that Summer went through, losing her love and her best friend, and then finding how much worse Raven could hurt her.

"-and whatever ground she made talking to Pyrrha only turned up that there's worse."

"And Ozpin?"

"Who even fucking knows when it comes to Oz." Clover had to laugh at that. Say what you will about Ol' Jimmy Ironsides, he didn't do the cryptic riddle bullshit. "So tell Miss Specialest Specialist that we've got more mysteries than we started with, and we've got nothing really to say... but we're hopeful. And... we've got a lot of reasons to be hopeful."

"Appreciate it. And… Winter's in the dark about the… other stuff. For now. If things are as uncertain as you think..."

"It'll probably blow up in our faces."

Clover nodded. "Well, that's enough gloom-and-doom. C'mere, let's enjoy ourselves a little."

Clover's kiss was sudden, long and slow. He said he loved the feel of Qrow's stubble against his cheeks, and his kisses always played up the friction. Qrow, in contrast, preferred a quick peck, and never something so public, but for Clover… for Clover, he'd do it. There was nothing harder for Qrow than to be vulnerable, especially publicly, but either because it was the feeling of his Semblance being quieted or just knowing that Clover was someone he felt good with, he didn't mind it so much.

And… he had to admit, kissing was something extraordinary to Qrow. Well, kissing like this. Qrow wasn't much for intimacy, and most of his previous experiences were either purely emotional, like with Tai and Summer, or purely physical, like with his long and storied sexual history of one-night stands. But right now, with their lips meeting, he felt a connection with Clover unlike anything he'd ever felt with anyone before. Something deeper and-

"Woo!" someone cried from the bar.

Without looking, shot back, "Shut the fuck up, Hong!" making Clover snicker.

Qrow shook his head. "You know how I feel about PDA," he mock-grumbled to his boyfriend.

Clover laughed, high and clear and carefree, the sort of sound Qrow never understood but loved to hear. "If you had it your way, our entire relationship would be handled by dead drop."

"It'd be efficient!"

"So you keep telling me."

Qrow smirked. "You young folks, always trying to-"

"I am literally only a year and a half younger than you, you know that, right? You can't keep trying the old man act on me."

Qrow shrugged. "It works on Summer, and we went to Beacon together. I get more mileage out of it than you might think."

Clover shook his head. "You're ridiculous… But how 'bout another game and then… loser covers the tab?"

"I'm not falling for that one," Qrow chuckled as Clover racked the balls, "but what the hell… Falling for you's only paid off so far, so what's one more time?"

Finally, we reach the explanation for why "claimed" is in lowercase. In the invention stage, I liked imagining what it'd be like for the world of Remnant in the 15 years when a monster showed up, took 15 kids as hostages, and then they didn't hear anything for a decade and a half. They're out of sight/out of mind, but at the same time, there's a need to show solidarity in grief with the families of the claimed, a kind of wound that's small enough to be personal, and never really allowed to heal.

Things are a little dark right now, but things can get better. Or they can violently explode. I actually added the Qrow/Clover scene late in the development because I felt the story really needed something optimistic and upbeat with the promise of an early relationship after Amber and Summer have to wrestle with the knowledge that this is bigger than even they can handle, in geopolitics as much as psychology.

This fic actually grew out of what was originally going to be a continuation of my fic "Fire From the Ashes" (and, weirdly, a sequel to "The King and I"). I actually posted some excerpts from that chapter (you can find a link to it on my Twitter), but this Act in particular draws from some of those thoughts. There was going to be an OC who would be the reborn Pyrrha's therapist, trying to reconcile what she knows about human biology with someone who very much was no longer within those parameters.

Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!