Colors of Remnant

I forgot my scroll on my tray at dinner, and I absolutely need to get it before tomorrow morning, because I wouldn't have the time to ask for it after breakfast if I don't want to be late to combat class. I'm sorry, it won't happen again, this was an emergency.

That was the little speech Myron had cooked up while perusing the kitchens with his Scroll's flashlight. He doubted that the excuse would hold if he was caught by staff - or even a camera, who knew - but there was little chance of meeting someone at two in the morning. He simply liked to be prepared, and he needed something to occupy his mind during his quest for caffeine. He rubbed at his eyes once more and opened the next fridge.

Stealing from the school wasn't his first plan when he needed a drink, but sleep was out of the question tonight, and he really had no other option. Procrastination had come back to bite him like always, but he didn't feel like asking for a delay for his first assignment. He really should stop postponing these things - and he wanted to! Sadly, he had forgotten all about the task by force of habit, until he had only ten hours left.

Although a vending machine seemed like a good alternative, there wasn't one in the dorms. He doubted there was one in the whole school even, since putting an unsupervised box filled with sugar next to Aura-powered teenagers was asking for it to be destroyed. And thus, when he began to doze off, his last resort had been to raid the kitchens dressed in black, baggy shirt and shorts and Beacon's loafers.

The doors were locked, of course, but the conveyor belt where the trays were put for dishwashing was open. Fortunately, Myron was just slim enough that he could sneak through the hole and start searching. He had considered coffee, but that would mean using the school's very loud coffee machines. Not a bright idea to go with at night in a restricted area. Since his favorite drink wasn't here, he settled for a pack (or two, why not) of Dr. Piper and hurried out the same way he came in.

"In and out quickly, no evidence, no witness. Mission success", he praised himself quietly, for his prize and for the rhyme. Now he just had to staple his eyes open for a night and a day.

Empty halls, darkened walls, and a sneaking crawl of shadows. It felt thick, and dimmed sight, but it always pleased. Calm and cool as night ought to be, this place was not a stranger. Two horns, black and shining, scattered the vestiges of light just as the halls scattered the sound, tapping, gentle, ethereal footsteps heralded the only notice of her coming.

The silence crept low and present, but the gentle brush of her fingers against the paint while she walked served the purpose to fill it, a subtle white noise sliding along with her meandering steps and the vicious clacking of her pristine shoes on tiled floors whenever her step became heavy.

The green-eyed Faunus was in her element, and all around her the blackness sighed with relief.

Two in the morning may as well have been six in the afternoon, for Sable, so commonly was she awake at this hour and further still asleep some inappropriate time later. Today's order of business had left her listless, there was nothing to be done and nowhere to be, and what a better place to be than alone in the dark?

Beyond the pale of her fingers ran spiders scattering, dark little shocks of insect on white that leapt about and danced within her sight like a performance of tiny ballerinas. She followed them, without any other aim, wandering until a bolt of light cut the darkness of the hallways with all the force of a strike of lightning. Curious, she thought, and so she followed it.

She could hear the sounds of somebody's breathing, the strange crescendo of one attempting stealth but with a mission to accomplish. She hung back, just out of sight, around a corner while she listened. Then, when it seemed the noises had subsided momentarily, she peeked around the corner, staring blankly at the hole in the wall where the intruder had gone. A horrid knife of fear gouged at her heart. A thief? A murderer? A rabid animal come to devour her? Was it the Grimm, or a demon summoned from some foul plane of existence here to terrorize and beguile?

No.

It was but a boy. He emerged from the portal carrying cases and praising himself. Her fear began to subside. The unknown was known. So a thief it was? She approached him warily and slow, a simple ghoul amid shadows, deathly silent and so accustomed to the dark that it wasn't hard to walk right up to him. She was simply a smear of pale skin where her face existed, the rest of her obscured in black and blending so easily with her surroundings that she may as well have been a chameleon.

"No shortage of pickings for a vulture?" she questioned suddenly, her voice soft and meek but in this environment it came loud like a random peal of thunder.

Myron had not been looking ahead when he stepped down from the belt, occupied with rearranging the packs of cans to carry them more easily. It was fortunate that he was in the middle of breathing in when someone popped up before him, as he couldn't scream at the top of his lungs. He "screamed inwards" instead, inhaling loudly then choking on air while he jumped away from whoever just talked. He'd immediatly rolled away, dropped a pack and prepped the other as a makeshift gauntlet, by tangling his hand in the plastic wrapped around the cans.

... So maybe he was a bit more on edge than he thought. But after catching his breath, he realized that this was the best case scenario. Or, well, second best behind not being caught, but their (her, probably) voice lacked the authority that Beacon staff would have. He assumed that it was another student, put down his second pack and stood up properly, with a mental reminder to open the cans very slowly later. "Why?!", he whispered-yelled at her, a bit miffed that she got the drop on him. Though, he would be lying if he said that it didn't make the night slightly less depressing.

In the light of his Scroll peeking from his breast pocket, he got a better look at the ghost of a student. Because really, her pure black clothes made her contours fuzzy in the darkness, her face was beyond pale, and her eyes were... glowing? He realized that the flashlight was pointed straight at her face and covered it up with a hand, dispelling her other-wordly vibe. She couldn't be a ghost anyway, or light would go through her... Why was he even considering the possibility?!
"What are you even doing here?", he asked more calmly, still a safe ten feet away.

Evidently, she'd surprised him. She wasn't surprised by this. Sable stood, staring blankly at the boy while he fumbled with his looted goods and waved around his flashlight. The beam of light illuminated her directly, forking shadows from her legs along the ground and momentarily blinding her, however she didn't outwardly react. She was, in fact, grimacing, but this made no change to her expression, which remained neutral. Her eyes were wide, bright and green, and they flashed in the darkness when the light poured over them, making them stand out against the pale of her flesh and the dark of her clothes. She didn't even blink. The two large horns atop her head appeared more menacing in shadow, the various gaps in between the segments blending with the backdrop of black and the chitin itself reflecting the light into odd angles.

When he finally covered the light, she felt relief, but lacked the emotion to express it. Instead, she simply stood there, her hands clasped in front of her near her waist, one behind the other. His questions hit her ears, and only then did she move, raising one hand to touch a finger to her chin, her gaze turning upward for a moment while she contemplated. She didn't answer right away, instead she returned to her previous position after a few seconds, and a few seconds after that, tilted her head slightly to the side, causing her curling hair to spill over one shoulder a little.

"Strange, I had just thought to ask you a similar question," she said softly, her voice as ethereal as her appearance, and she fell into silence once more. In the quiet of the hall, the only external sound that could be heard was that of a gentle, steady dripping, as though some liquid were making its way through an old pipe and finding itself falling to the floor.

"A courier and a criminality, that which is known can be judged. For, have you gone somewhere which wasn't so?" she questioned cryptically, part of her was aware she probably wasn't making sense. She was tired, this much was evident by the large bags under her eyes. She tried again.

"The cafeteria closed hours ago," she stated simply this time, raising an eyebrow and glancing down at his cargo. Her words weren't loud enough to interrupt that strange dripping sound, which seemed to pervade the area, close and yet uncertain in origin. She remained there, unmoving again, unblinking, just looking Myron directly in the eye.

Despite dropping the idea of a ghost, Myron wasn't convinced that he was talking to a living person. She was so inexpressive, moving so slowly, that he thought she was asleep for a moment - could people sleepwalk with their eyes wide open? He didn't consider himself particularly unlucky, and meeting a pale-skinned, horned person with pure black clothes at night in an empty hall was a pretty big coincidence. Unless it wasn't a coincidence, she wasn't a person, she was actually Death itself coming to take his soul, and he really needed sugar if sleepiness made him this delirious.

When she finally talked, however, her weird and ominous answer didn't help her case. If it could even be called an answer, seeing as Myron didn't even understand the second part. Her cryptic speech felt like she was mocking him, yet there wasn't any hint of a smile on her face. Definitely too tired for this, he leaned against the wall and started taking a can out of its wrapping, preparing some kind of snide comeback, but she spoke again with understandable words this time.

His frown was replaced by a puzzled look at the first emotion he saw on her face, an eyebrow raised... in disapproval? bemusement? curiosity? "Well, yeah...", he began, about to leave it at that, but her big green eyes held him back. This was a night of working after a day of studying, and the distraction was far too tempting.
"... Sure, the front door's locked, but that one seems pretty open to me", he argued while illuminating his entrance to the kitchens. "Unless you somehow don't count that giant hole in the wall as a door." He finished tearing the plastic with a challenging smile, grabbed two cans and held one in her direction. "Want one? Your bribe for not snitching on me."

Sable regarded Myron with curiosity, though she as well as any onlooker wasn't so convinced of this. It wasn't as though she needed to pause in her adventures simply to entertain a stranger, especially one who seemed unafraid to bend rules... Could be dangerous. Her inner emotions were stirring, and it was uncomfortable. She worked to convince herself that he was no real threat. After all, he wasn't a black monster with a white mask and red eyes. Those were her enemies, not a random human boy with a sweet tooth.

He seemed unsure of himself. Had she disarmed him? This was also not surprising. It wouldn't have been the first time. He seemed eager to partake of his stolen prize. His explanation was simple enough, and her head turned to follow the light, gazing upon the gaping, darkened maw he'd crawled from. It was mundane enough, except for the fangs.

"I'm in doubt, stranger. Would not the Staff of our fine Academy be upset with you? You mustn't be selfish, and wait your turn. We're all taught this. It isn't in my nature to illuminate on the shortcomings of others, but caution is advisable. If you are uncareful, unexpected circumstances may occur, and nobody likes unexpected circumstances." Was she scolding him? Her silky, small voice didn't make it very convincing. There wasn't a hint of anger anywhere to be found on her person. She even took the can he held toward her, though she merely examined it with that same uncompromising stare she'd given him before.

All the while throughout their exchange, the dripping sound had continued unabated. Then, without warning, her eyes began to glow a sickly, bright green, casting a dim length of light from the front of her face. However, this was perhaps not the most startling thing that happened in that very moment. From behind her, a piece of the darkness seemed to break away, and it lurched forward, reaching the light and both reflecting it and swallowing it at the same time. Thick, black bones shambled from the shadows, a huge, seven-foot tall skeletal figure, with eyes that burned the same green as her own. It bent forward, looming over the back of the girl, its chin inches away from the tip of her horns. Sable seemed completely unconcerned by this. In fact, she held up the can, and handed it over. The creature took it from her, and she returned her hand to where it had been, clasped in her other hand in front of her waist. Her eyes turned up toward the skeleton.

"Thank you, Eugene," she said politely.

Although Myron wasn't rude enough to comment on it, the sedate woman's speech patterns sounded really out of place, a feeling amplified by her blank expression. Was she telling him what she thought, or just the rules she'd herself been told? Did she care at all? And who even said "uncareful" when "careless" had one less syllable??

"They wouldn't approve, obviously, but I'm not harming anyone, am I? The drinks are free during the day, so it stands to reason that they would be now as well", he retorted, taking a sip and letting the bubbles fizzle in his mouth for a moment. Nothing like a carbonated drink to wake one up. "Also, I happen to very much like unexpected circumstances", he added with one-handed air quotes. "Expecting isn't exciting. Ruins all the fun. If I'd expected you, how would you have been able to scare me half to- WHAT THE HELL?!" He fell once again into a fighting stance as a monster emerged straight out of a horror movie and behind her. Myron hesitated between jumping away or warning her, but her lack of hostile reaction proved that the skeletal thing was with her, unless she was comatose beyond repair.

"Wow, hey, don't get angry now, miss! I swear I wasn't antagonizing you!" Right, of course not. "I have a good reason, I'm not just stealing for fun..." He progressively calmed down as nothing happened, despite the ghost train he was apparently riding. "... Is this yours?", he hazarded, still wary, after dismissing the worst possibilities. Like a Grimm, for instance, but Grimm bones were white and their eyes were red. "You're a scary one, you know?"

To say Sable was a bit confused might've been an understatement. She didn't understand any of the reasoning behind this one's logic. But, then again, she wasn't meant to, she supposed. She met his explanation with apathy, not that he would see it, but she couldn't care more whether he was stealing paid goods or free ones. She'd merely decided he'd do well with a warning.

Eugene, as he was apparently called, straightened his back and stood at his full height behind the girl, a massive eight feet, easily dwarfing Sable and her newfound acquaintance.

Her expression became a bit puzzled, though, finally showing some change, when he reacted as he did. Right... People typically didn't respond as happily to Eugene's presence as she did. She rather liked the big brute, he was always kind and really a bit shy... Of course, this wasn't the real Eugene. That Eugene didn't even exist anywhere other than her own mind. But still, summoning a replica of him was, from time to time, a bit nostalgic and, dare she say it, fun. Especially in a place like this, and with a witness. She didn't often get a chance to showcase her abilities, in fact, Myron's reaction was exactly why she typically refrained, but at the current moment, her mental state was a bit... fractured. It was impossible, after all, to be at one's best every day of the week.

"Anger isn't befitting of a lady such as I," she responded smoothly, calmly, and in her lacy, small voice.

"But... He is mine, yes. Say hello Eugene," she ordered, and the huge thing raised one of its bony arms, silently waving at Myron with his slick, black limb.

"Unfortunately, this is but a facsimile of the real thing. He is a shy creature by nature, and of course, not prone to letting anybody else see him. This Eugene, however, is but a puppet, a marionette, controlled in every action by one sterling puppetmaster... Me." For a moment, her eyes flashed with that same green glow they had a moment ago, and she channeled her Aura in a quick pulse throughout her body to show off a trick she'd been learning. She locked the summon's motions to her own, and she took a step forward, stretched out a hand, then bent her arm up, then threw it out to the side. The skeleton did exactly as she did. She hunched her shoulders, and bent her knees, holding both arms out, curved, vicious. He repeated the same gesture, towering an imposing figure in a menacing stance behind her. Then, she stood back up straight again, and clasped her hands in front of her as usual, and Eugene's arms lowered back to his sides.

"Such is the nature of my Semblance," she finished.

Myron rubbed his eyes and forced himself to listen to the woman talking, but couldn't tear his gaze from the demonic creation behind her. He felt like he shouldn't be blamed for not looking at his interlocutor nor waving back, when the unfittingly named "Eugene" was looming over them. Apparently she thought herself above anger somehow, like she was the living embodiment of composure, which painted a very bland picture of her personality. The Semblance she just displayed made that hard to believe at best.

Still wary of Eugene's movements, Myron took another swig of his drink to clear his head. "Weirdest shit I've ever seen...", he mumbled while she explained her ability. Her choreography with her monster was in equal parts zany and unsettling, but nobody got to pick their Semblance, so he chose to smile at them. He didn't really understand what she referred to by "the real thing". Maybe a bigger version of it - and wasn't that a terrifying thought? However, the fact that she seemed in full control let him forget his apprehension a bit and realize the incredible potential she had. The potential to make the best pranks in history!

"Would you mind if I asked for your help at ungodly hours some other night? You know, if I ever need to give someone a heart attack or two", he inquired with mirth in his eyes as he imagined how that would go. "I'm sure you'd enjoy stalking and scaring more people in the dead of night", he went on playfully. Maybe he was still peeved about her earlier surprise, or he just wanted to test her claim about anger. Either way, his homework could and would be postponed for cracking somebody's facade, one of his favorite pastimes.

The most she could hope for is that Myron didn't run away at full bolt, screaming something about demons or the undead, of which Eugene was neither. So, since he didn't do either, as far as she was concerned, she was looking at a man fit for duty against the Grimm. For, after all, if one scared so easily to a simple Semblance in the dark, what good would they be on the field of battle some day against the most horrific abominations this world had ever seen?

Still, his somewhat rude comment was forgivable. She was well aware the appearance her Semblance had, even here in a place where the myriad of abilities could be found. The Semblance, as it was said, was a mirrored image of one's inner soul, and to that she was certain therein lie a kernel of truth. For somebody like her, self-awareness typically came with ease. After all, if she couldn't manage it, what good would her therapist be for her? Or her psychiatrist, for that matter...

But then, Myron proposed something all together more interesting. Her eyebrow rose, and her eyes turned up to Eugene's frightening visage, placid by her standards, staring out into the darkness, illuminated only by the shreds of light which came from her own eyes or Myron's Scroll. Then, she looked back at the young man, and her lips twisted into a hint of a smile.

"You are suggesting pranks?" she ventured, "These are not beyond me. I have, in various times of need, conducted such operations before in order to unsettle those with... Nastier temperaments. I am sure you can wager a guess as to why I might find myself on the receiving end of misplaced hostility or otherwise improper insults against my honor. My heritage alone creates such bedeviling circumstance from time to time. One does not simply waltz about with large horns without drawing some considerable amount of attention," she said, apparently hinting at the racism she'd experienced as a Faunus before. It was true, not everybody was simply accepting of her, both her strange nature, her obvious mental differences, but also simply her race. Ignorance came from everywhere, though, and she'd found herself teased often enough by Faunus and human alike, for different reasons perhaps, but nevertheless equally disturbing realities. She erred more on the side of cooperation with her fellow creatures, and it was a wonder why some people couldn't do the same.

"Well, I suppose I might be coaxed to engage in clandestine lollygagging when circumstances are appropriate. But that all depends... Am I entirely sure you are not the one in need of the pranking?" she asked, and placed a hand under her chin, her other under her elbow, leaning forward slightly and peering at him with her wide owl-like stare, while her summoned skeleton did the same as she did. It was unclear if she was serious or joking, her voice didn't hold any hints and neither did her expression.

There was an exciting novelty in trying to hold a conversation while an eldritch creature stood less than ten feet away.
It was made all the harder by the woman's more and more complex sentences. Despite what his instinct told him, Myron had to focus on her to follow what she was saying. It brought back unpleasant memories of old vocabulary tests where you had to find the right synonym for each word.

"So those are horns?", he muttered in the middle of her tirade, angling his Scroll to get a somewhat better look. "I thought that was just your attempt at looking devillish." He said that with a smirk, but quickly lost it as the word "lollygagging" made him snort. Did that even exist? That had to be something she saw on a random shady website. No way anyone ever decided it was okay to put that in a dictionary.

Even more baffling was the fact the she nearly agreed. Myron was convinced she was a stickler for the rules, but then again, she too was roaming the school at night. "Really? I mean I can wager a guess, yeah, but really?", he sassed, then did his best (not great) imitation of her voice: "But would not the staff of our fine academy be upset with you?" He laughed openly at that before clearing his throat.

"Well, if you think it's only for my own gain, you can just count it as a favor I'll owe you... and Eugene, of course", he offered, and his malicious grin lighted from below would have had its place right next to the puppet in a horror movie. He'd just nabbed the best pranking buddy in history.

Sable's eyebrow rose again when he mentioned something about devils. She had never compared herself to such abominations, but she did suppose the uninitiated might see her in that light. That was more their problem than her own. She tapped her chin for a moment while Myron spoke at her, all but ignoring his attempt at mocking her manner of speech. She'd registered it, sure, but there was absolutely no sense in pointing it out when she was sure this boy was simply another of the crowd of often-misguided youths which seemed to buzz about Beacon like hornets in a nest. She clearly wouldn't fit in with those types, so why bother to attempt it?

She considered his offer carefully, though. A favor, for use of her skills, leveraged to spooking some innocent creature? Well, that could come in handy. Sable sometimes had use for such favors, given her unique condition, it was difficult at best to travel into town when one was hallucinating all manner of horrible apparitions. Maybe he'd be useful as a runner to pick up her prescription or something? Or maybe he had other talents?

"That depends, I suppose... What might I expect from one such as yourself? Are you a tradesman? A scholar available for tutoring? An upperclassman with sway amongst the elders?" Her head tilted as she spoke, hand still rubbing at her chin inquisitively. Seemed she had standards for who she might offer a favor to. All the same, Eugene tilted his head with her and repeated her gesture, placing his long, bony fingers along his jawbone.

"Of course, if you have no useful skills... I could simply scare you instead, that could be of some entertainment. What do you think?" Her deadpan delivery hid the fact she was joking. It might have even sounded a bit like a threat, but she wasn't at present concerned with how her words appeared to Myron. As far as she was concerned, she'd caught him in the act, and if he proved to be a ne'er-do-well, she wasn't entirely certain she wanted him around, skulking through the same hallways as herself.

"What might I expect from one such as yourself?", the unexpressive woman started to enumerate her somewhat high standards for a favor. That phrasing hurt a bit, especially since Myron still couldn't discern any hint of a joking tone. He had bristled at her second jibe, a bitter reminder of why he was here a year after most, and right when he was late on homework, too. Way to rub salt in the wound, but he reasoned that she couldn't have known about it. Besides, he'd caught her smile at the first mention of pranks, and he wouldn't be discouraged so easily.

"No, I'm just a plain Huntsman-in-training", he replied, smirk back on, and flicked his finger on his half-empty can. "Though, I guess I do have a gift for procuring rare commodities. And my dashing good looks, of course." A dubious claim in his current getup, but you never knew when it would work. He then cleared just enough space between them so that he could look down on her - horns didn't make her taller than him. Nope. Neither did Eugene.

"Or you could try and scare me, yeah... but you do not want to start a prank war with me, Spooky. We're here for four years, I'm quite competitive, and I've got a lot of free time", Myron warned, though he hoped she would raise to the challenge clearly written in his face. It could be of some entertainment, indeed.

Sable took a moment to think, which translated into her standing there, staring at the boy for perhaps a bit longer than was necessary, head tilted slightly to the side.

"Hmmm... Rare commodities you say?" she questioned, her curiosity actually showing in her voice, for once.

"That is a useful skill. Perhaps a trade could be brokered, so long as the terms are agreeable. Very well, if we shall be in the business of favors, I have no reason not to accept your proposal. I will 'spook' one who has wronged you, and in return, you will fetch me an item of value, to be determined in the future." She said this with a tone not unlike some shrewd businessman.

"But while I have no use for starting wars, contests of terror are not ones easily lost by yours truly... So tread carefully, friend," she then stated, and for once, a light smile appeared on her lips, the only hint of her sarcasm.

Gesturing with both hands through the air, immediately the large, imposing figure behind her seemed to collapse into a small puddle of dark liquid, which slid across the ground and under her feet, before disappearing into her shoes.

"Now then, if you have no further need of my attention, I must return to my path and follow the spiders to their source. They do not lead anyone astray, and they never travel for no reason," Sable said matter-of-factly, then folded her hands in front of her waist again and walked past Myron, intending to continue on her way down the corridor.

Apparently he'd gotten a deal, which he was glad for, even though she made it sound like he asked her to murder someone. Myron feared that she would ask for his soul in return, but her Semblance was far too scary to pass up. Satisfied, he backed off and hanged on one hip, only for her to throw his warning back at him.

"You don't-" seem to know what 'carefully' means, he was about to retort, but cut himself off with a sigh and a relenting smile. She'd agreed to his offer, and he'd rather not risk changing her mind. Plus, her reactions so far were barely visible, so another taunt would surely fly over her like the previous ones. He kept his one-upmanship in check as she left, stating some more cryptic words about spiders, which didn't even surprise him now.

"... Good luck with that", he simply said. Normally, this would have prompted some kind of joke, but he really had no idea how to answer, or if she expected an answer at all. Besides, he had more pressing, less enjoyable things to do. He gathered the cans, including the one that had rolled onto the floor when Eugene had vanished - and gone back into her shoes, apparently, but Myron was too tired to question it.

"If you didn't want it, you could've just said so...", he groused at her darkening silhouette, then headed for the dorms, his loot under one arm and Scroll back in hand.