Chapter Text
The flame inside Yang sputtered and burned a little dimmer.
Fuel, it whispered. Fuel for the fire.
Looking out the clinic window, Yang imagined the sputtering was just a protest for the young breeze stirring the orange and yellow leaves in the trees lining the street. A chilled breeze, singing its requiem about endings and the change of seasons. But fire would be a fan of change, so she dismissed the idea with a downward curve of her mouth.
For a moment, all Yang wanted to do was vault the windowsill right through the glass and burn brightly in the cold. But she’d need more kindling to do that.
That, and she was at work - surrounded by bright lights and colorful yoga mats up on their pegs. Not that she minded. Being bright and bubbly, crossed with confident and professional, was excellent practice for keeping the lights on when the flame burned too low.
"Yep, just like that."
Yang watched the mild skepticism pass from her client's face as the seemingly simple act of pushing off the wall started to stress his atrophied arms. As a form of rescue strength training, wall-pushups never ceased to surprise.
"Just you," he grunted, "watch."
Mr. Harbor’s devotion to self-improvement had impressed Yang from the moment he’d practically crawled in a few weeks back. Through conversation during exercises, she’d learned that as a dangerously unhealthy and atrophied 50-something, he’d found fulfillment and new life as something of a supportive patriarch in the local drag scene.
"I'm watching your breathing, hot stuff. You should, too."
"Yeah, yeah." Another grunt. "I'll be lifting you up and taking you to a show by next week."
Yang snorted, watching the muscles in his wrists for strain. Said like a person who had decided resolutely that they would not like to die just yet, thank you very much. Something in Yang resonated with his drive, his force of vitality.
"How much do you - hng - weigh again?"
"Oh, Mr. Harbor? Asking a lady her weight? Banishment, my dude," Yang said.
Mr. Harbor paused at the top of a push-up, standing almost straight, and pretended to think hard while he caught his breath. "I'd say… fifty pounds." Yang snorted laughter as he nodded sagely. "Muscle's the lightest body tissue. That's why I'm so heavy-" he started another rep with a little strain, "and you're so light."
"You got it. Maybe wait to sweep me off my feet until we've inclined your pushups a few times, yeah?” With a small smile and a shake of her head, Yang thumbed the button on the stopwatch around her neck. “And just one more set for today."
She watched him find an admirable reserve and count down his reps, a sheen of sweat all over. Next week he'd be able to move from the wall to the incline board and start adding minute degrees to his pushups and building strength.
For the briefest moment, Yang could feel the pressure of his aura as he approached the end of his set. Her own whispered back, feeling the texture of it like handholds, showing her how easy it would be to just reach out and grip it, pull it from its home and consume it. Add its warmth to her own. Quick , the whisper said. Before you get cold.
“Don’t go swooning already, sweetheart.”
“Hm? Yeah,” Yang said, resisting the urge to shake her head. Harbor had finished the exercise and was watching her with mostly hidden concern that he wiped away the moment she snapped back to focus. She donned her best smile and took in his breathing and stature. She wasn’t one to lose focus, and sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
And yet, she could still detect that hint of concern. Bless the man. She made a gesture and rolled her eyes.
“My bad. Started thinking about dinner. Good job, anyway.” She handed him a fresh towel and reached for his clipboard. “How’s that feel afterward? I can tell it was right around the level of exertion we’re looking for, but I want to make sure you don’t have any pain or sharp sensations.”
“Fit as a fiddle, my girl,” Harbor said through the towel currently wiping up the sweat on his forehead. “Winded, yes. When can I sit, again?” Yang hummed, made some marks on his chart.
“You stay on your feet until your heart rate returns mostly to normal,” she said. “It’s your wind-down, remember. And - do you know what I’m gonna say?” she asked, handing him his clipboard while his free hand waved off her oncoming words like an unwanted messenger.
“Yes, yes,” he fussed. “Do this once a day this week or when I come back ‘ it’ll be like doing it for the first time again .’ “
Yang gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock outrage. “I am not a broken record,” she said “That just so happens to be the truth, young man.”
“Always with the flattery,” he said with a snort, turning his heavy frame to amble back to the front desk. “I’ll be sure to let young Emerald know you’ve reminded me of my homework. You take care, now, and have something good for dinner for me.”
Yang watched his pace and breathing as he went and, satisfied with what she saw, offered an unseen two-finger salute. “Toodles, chief.”
Before she could let her mind slip again, she turned on her heel and strode to her computer to fill in client data for the session, only to catch sight of her phone’s idle screen on her desk: 3 Unread Messages. Her lock screen security settings prevented idle eyes from seeing the sender.
Yang pushed down the hackles that rose at the sight of the notification. They were just texts, probably from Ruby being excited about something. It was fine.
She slid the phone off her desk and thumbed the passcode.
Ruby: OMG some dude got hit by the new Schnee train!!
Ruby: And it’s like a bullet train or whatever they’re calling it so it was going SUPER FAST
Ruby: So fast they COULDN’T FIND A BODY soooo guess what I bet he’s a VAMPIRE
Yang rolled her eyes with a small smile. She was inclined to believe her little sister had actually seen something like that in the news, but her running gag of explaining away phenomena as vampire this, vampire that - it could be a little exhausting. Especially this time of year, as Halloween - and her birthday - crept ever closer.
Yang didn’t make a habit of indulging in myths, especially to make light of them; but unfortunately for her, Tai back home had no such qualms with the indulgence.
If their father was to be believed, vampires were real, and they were monsters: cold-blooded, lightning fast and heartless with long fangs - dangerous to humans, but worse for those like Ruby and Yang. Yang hoped that if they were real, they never encountered one.
She shook her head and pocketed her phone, returning to her work computer and tackling the spreadsheet. Harbor was recovering from years of neglected health; Yang had to start him slow, coordinating with a nutritionist to help him add years to his new journey of rejuvenation and self-discovery. Apparently, being in one’s fifties, overweight, and atrophied wasn’t enough to stop some people from turning things around and living a new dream. He was an eccentric, but he had a good heart.
She could feel it in his aura.
Yang felt the whisper billow up again, like a restless bedsheet on a puff of air , as she finished typing in metrics on the fitness spreadsheet. Her indignant huff - a snort of a humorless laugh - felt hot like dehydrated breath. Not his, she thought. Never his. She’d find one that wasn’t being used. The whisper was impatient, but it was hers. It could wait.
Yang turned and smiled at her last client of the day, taking her clipboard and making pleasantries as she eyed the chart.
—
Fifty minutes later, Yang was walking to reception, loose jacket over her workout gear and backpack slung over one shoulder, and catching the tail end of one of Emerald’s infamous customer service exchanges.
“I shouldn’t have to pay anything. Call my insurance,” came a heated tone from a client - thankfully, not one of Yang’s. Massage, by the looks of it; a woman with an intense, predatory glare aimed at the customer service specialist at the front of the office, who was leaned forward slightly in her chair with a sweet smile that didn’t reach her red-brown eyes. It looked like an angry mouse squaring up with a cobra.
“A copay,” Emerald said in a low voice that suggested she’d been progressively simplifying her response, “is a small fee required by some health policies. Like yours-”
“-I didn’t ask for-”
“-which you kindly provided.” Emerald gently, rhythmically tapped her computer screen.
The woman pursed her lips, her face contorted as though her pores were holding back incredible pressure.
“Call my insurance,” she said again. “Right now. They’ll tell you how paying for a service actually works.”
“They. Are. Closed.” Emerald tilted her head to regard the clock. “You can call them tomorrow morning at eight for a more accurate definition of a copay.”
“Clearly with that tone you are not giving me customer service.”
“Here we go,” Emerald said, straightening and letting her smile become a smirk.
“Exc use me?” The client could have been slapped, Yang thought, hanging back. Just to see, she pushed out to feel the aura at play. “I will not - I need to speak to your manager.”
Yang watched as her aura nudged, probed.
“Hi, yes,” Emerald said, rolling her eyes and drumming three fingers on the nameplate on her desk. The woman sputtered a series of cut-off sounds. “Tell you what. I’ve got a quick form I can attach to your paperwork that’ll just add the copay to your next monthly insurance bill.”
“That’s not-”
“I can take care of the rest,” Emerald said, her tone dropping sweetly and dripping venom. “Have a wonderful rest of your night.”
The woman sputtered, finally noticed Yang leaning against the corner entrance to the hallway, and maybe Yang’s stature, her expressionless gaze framed as it was by her long, wild blonde hair, was what finally did it. With a speedy and halfhearted “I never,” the woman grabbed her bag and sped out the door.
The whisper said she’d do. Yang disagreed, as usual, curbing the appetite. The woman was ignorant, but her soul rippled with use and history and life. Silently Yang wondered what kind of woman she was to people she loved, protected.
“I know you’re in love with me or whatever, but you don’t gotta jump a bitch in an alley.”
Filing away the need to stop letting hunger make her zone out, Yang plastered on a smirk and shoved her shoulder off the wall.
“Nah, I was just thinking about what she’s like when she’s with her family and stuff.”
“Too deep, Xiao Long. She’s just a heartless monster and you know it.” Emerald had already begun a blurring set of movements that included flitting papers into folders and those folders into labeled alcoves with what Yang thought of as unnecessary but impressive flair. It’s how you could tell someone had worked in clerical and customer service for a long time and hadn’t let it consume them. The movements matched the golden evening light pouring through the clinic windows; their jobs done, the world outside beckoned, hastening hands and feet and promising life.
She punctuated her closing-up with a flurry of keyboard inputs before putting the computer to sleep and slinging on her own jacket and satchel.
“I know it’s your job to care and stuff,” she drawled, coming around the counter to meet Yang on their way to the front door. “But some people are just crusty old hags.”
“You know, you’re right, Em -” Yang bumped her hip into the glass door as Emerald whipped the keys out of her bag and whirled them with unnecessary finesse, fixing Yang with an expectant glare, “but think of that old crustiness as the top layer of an old 7-layer dip left in the back of the fridge-”
“Please stop.”
“-and beneath that old, dehydrated, transformed upper layer of cheese and… stuff, there’s a whole new world below just churning with life-”
“You’re not allowed to use the word ‘churning’ anymore,” Emerald said, giving up and pushing the door open into the cool twilight, the sunset purple and orange, leaves skittering by their feet on the breeze.
“-so beneath the surface of every Karen lies ancient sour cream, guac’, and tomatoes that have the potential for SO MUCH MORE,” Yang projected, letting her feigned enthusiasm boil over from tasteful prodding to absurdity. It was the least she owed Emerald for putting up with entitled clients.
“I hate you,” Yang’s biggest fan said as she turned the lock.
“She was so full of life. Evolving in the fridge.”
“She was full of something, all right,” she said with a smirk. She jingled her car keys, tilting her head toward her destination. “I’m on the street today. Wanna get some food?”
Yang tilted her head, touched her chin. “Like fresh food, or…”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Yang said, sucking in air through her teeth. Emerald was a decent friend, and asked frequently after work but never pressed. It felt bad to decline as often as Yang did, but the excuses were usually legitimate. “Take-out and movie night with the sis.”
“Yeah,” Emerald said with a small smirk and a nod, “you and that sister time. Gotta stick to the schedule. Thought I’d ask-”
“Just in case.”
“-just in case, yeah. Aight, catch you later, Xiao Long.” She flourished her keys again and set off down the street without a second glance.
“Yeah yeah, see you tomorrow,” Yang said, indicating an upper level of the attached parking garage. “Thanks again for your noble daily sacrifice.”
Yang fished out her phone and slipped on an earbud, making her way to the stairs in the closest corner of the parking garage.
She resumed her music app at the mix from earlier in the day and pulled up maps. It was indeed their night to eat out, and the seedier parts of Argus had plenty of take-out places with food neither her nor Ruby would ever say no to. It was a common fallback, good for food and for finding souls that were, as Yang put it, just lying around unused.
Striding from the stairwell landing on the level with her bike, Yang offered a silent prayer of thanks to the homeless - many of them discarded Faunus laborers - that made up the encampments that lured Yang and Ruby’s other vital food source out of their shiny precincts.
She found a restaurant within reasonable distance of a good site and texted a picture of it to Ruby with a simple message.
Yang: Food?
By the time she’d stowed her bag and kicked her bike into ignition, Ruby had texted back with a smile and a thumbs-up. Yang returned the thumbs-up, clipped her phone to the sturdy mount above the ignition, and rumbled down and out of the parking garage.
—
Ruby was leaning against her car in the old, cracked parking lot, her inquisitive features framed by dark hair that reflected a hint of red in the buzzing streetlights of the wharf district. She wrinkled her nose at Yang’s unchanged workout gear as Yang swung her leg over her bike, having arrived like any hungry dinner customer just as the sun was setting.
“You’re gonna -” Ruby made a subtle-enough glance around them, “-hunt in that ?”
Yang filed away pride for her younger sister’s careful mind as she strode over.
“Please, Rubes, it’s barely ‘hunting.’ And, even if I - or you - or he - make a mess, we live in the future. We have a washing machine.” Yang flicked her in the shoulder before swooping in for a hug. “Sup.”
Ruby groaned even as she returned it. “Yaaang. You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Hi.”
“Meh,” Yang said, starting toward the trunk of Ruby’s car. Ruby made a desperate expression even as she thumbed the fob in her hoodie pocket and the trunk popped open, Yang flinging it up and reaching in.
“People recognize clothes, Yang.” She caught the cloak Yang threw with an outstretched hand and peaked around it. “The police even use them to find people when they put out an APB or whatever.”
“They use them to look for people.” She swung her own cloak around her shoulders. “Big difference. Plus, we have these,” she said as she flung her cowl up, splaying her fingers at the end of the motion like she was popping her collar. “We’re like, incognito.”
“Until you have to move fast, and then someone sees your black leggings with yellow stripes around the calf and thigh and then someone comes in the night or when you’re at work and take you away and do experiments on you and-”
“Ruby.”
“-I never see you again until you come back as a brainwashed spy or something, and we’ll only know because you’ll have this dead look in your eyes..”
“Ruby? It’s fine. I’m not changing into my jeans in a parking lot for this.”
“But you’re the one who taught me how careful we’re supposed to be!” Ruby hissed, clearly resisting the urge to check once more for listeners.
Yang put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “I know just how careful to be. Besides, I have you looking out for me!”
Ruby crooked an eyebrow. “Does this mean I can wear what I want, too?”
“Nope.”
"Don't just say it's because you're older."
"It's because you're younger."
"YANG-"
"Shh, Ruby!" Yang hushed, stifling a grin. "You'll blow our cover.”
A beat, and Ruby finally relented. Her long, exaggerated eye roll landed on the walk-up window of the restaurant. “What cover? We’re real patrons! As soon as, um.” She tucked her hands behind her back with a little hop and set off behind Yang, who had shook her head with an affectionate smile and headed for the sidewalk. “These guys have the best fried rice. As soon as we’re back.”
“As soon as we’re back,” Yang said, eyes forward.
“Ooh, did you get my text earlier?” They fell into stride side-by-side, buildings on either side of them becoming more dilapidated as they walked.
“About that dude who got hit by the new train? I bet Schnee PR is having a blast. Also, what the fuck?”
“What they’re saying is APPARENTLY he attacked the Schnee heiress or something and then, um….” Ruby trailed off, biting her cheek in thought.
“You’ve got me riveted here, sis.” said Yang - and hell, she wasn’t even joking. Was Ruby getting this from Schnee-funded news, or somewhere else?
“Well, the words they use are that he,” and she cocked an eyebrow, raised two palms up, “ challenged the train?”
“Ok, this has GOT to be satire. Like, challenged it to a fight?”
“I guess!”
“Squared up, on the tracks, with what they’re literally dubbing a ‘bullet train.’” Yang wanted to gesticulate with her hands for emphasis, but kept her gaze forward, stride steady. The increasingly peeled paint, boarded windows, and abandoned storefronts on either side of them held little humor. She felt her cloak billow behind her a bit in the fall breeze, though, and figured the wind was just as amused as she was.
“And got smashed to dust,” Ruby concluded.
“You said there was ‘no body,’ right?” Ruby confirmed with an mm . Yang took the bait. “He wasn’t a vampire, Ruby, it was probably just a publicity stunt or something.”
Ruby barely managed to keep outward composure, squealing in protest. “But vampires are so cool ! They could totally do something like that. Like, poof! Oooh, aaah.”
“Ruby.” Yang didn’t stop, but slowed their walk, looked over, and took Ruby’s hand. “There’s a reason Dad had to give you ‘the talk’ before we left. If they’re real, or still alive or whatever, we do not want their attention, and we do not want to forget that they’re no joke.”
Ruby swung her hands under Yang’s cloak. “I didn’t say they were funny . Just cool.”
“Rubes.”
“Ok, yeah, if they’re real I’ll take the concept of vampires more seriously.”
“Sweet,” Yang said with a grin, releasing their hands. “Now shh, we’re getting close.” It was only another block before their gaits started to change, becoming more focused and driven.. In this part of town, few would look twice at two people wearing cloaks. The more observant might spare a second gaze for their squared shoulders, their driven gazes (partially hidden as they were), and their purposeful stride. They appeared almost predatory.
They were hungry.
—
It was never hard.
That was the one thing that always made Yang think about what they were doing. If feeding was really a challenge, she wouldn’t have time to think about the lives they took. She’d feel more like the predator she was built to be; instead, Yang was once again confronted with the image of herself from Ruby’s eyes, letting a golden wisp of hair come loose from her cowl, adjusting her stance like she was timid and lost.
Never be afraid to be yourself, Yang has always told Ruby. Always be you. Nothing less. Unless, of course, you’re luring a couple cops down an alley to rip their souls out of their bodies with your teeth.
These two had been easy to case. They always were. In a wide, aging parking lot nestled in a disused industrial park was one nexus of combined efforts to feed the hungry. Food in the form of cans, fruits and vegetables, boxes of junk food, and others - mostly donated, some bought, a little less scavenged and stolen, found its home in a makeshift outdoor kitchen where hot meals were cooked and set out to feed a line of people both desperate and discarded, faunus and human alike. Yang and Ruby had followed a small cadre of armored police as they arrived to inform the kitchen workers, themselves likely without homes, that the following morning, the camp would be disbanded - swept by force if necessary - and forced to move elsewhere.
Two of the officers, both tall and clad in blue, their faces obscured by riot masks and their palms resting comfortably near their service weapons, had responded to the fear and confusion with jeering threats, knocking over a table of food and eating some from another without any sign of remorse. Fearing for their lives, homeless onlookers backpedaled against Yang’s stalking advance as the officers postured.
Yang didn’t have to get terribly close. With Ruby watching to stay ahead, Yang kept her cloak clutched tight and her head low, and drifted in the angry, confused crowd just near enough to push her aura in their direction.
Contact.
She probed, feeling the texture of these men’s auras. She shuddered, and repressed a snort of derision. Surrounding their foundation was what felt to be a thin layer, rigid and stale. It was the quintessence of a life that would need to be torn down to the frame in order to learn to be properly used. They’d need to suffer a substantial crisis in order to learn, to grow.
That was just the thing, Yang reminded herself as she steeled and finally let her hunger out of its cage: anybody could learn. But some people would harm countless others as they were dragged kicking, screaming, and killing toward salvation.
These people were their prey.
These two in particular shortly thereafter saw something irresistibly out of place: a young, blonde woman in a thin cloak looking about herself, nervous and scared, before making eye contact with them and widening her eyes in alarm. She waited for one of them to shout a command at her, barely caring what it was, before darting down a nearby alley. She knew they’d follow.
So alluring was the sight that, when it repeated to their eyes twice more, once at the corner and again at the entrance to the alley of the next street, the men still followed. To their credit, Yang thought at the last baiting, their hands had slowly drifted to their sidearms and were now palming their grips as the jogged across the street.
Also, whatever mental drive compelled them to follow was certainly not compelling them to call out any longer. They wanted to be silent.
But they’d already lost track of how many sound-deadening corners they’d passed.
—
Now they’d entered the next alley to find their quarry missing. Not that they were empty-handed; just confused. Before them stood a different young girl in a similar cloak, hood down with short dark hair and a blank smile, her head cocked to the side as though curiously surprised. She was eyeing them with an emotion they couldn’t quite place. Can’t take any chances, right?
One of the officers pointed his sidearm, the other with his head on a swivel, and her smile somewhat faded. “Hands where I can see them.” Why was he sweating?
Her head slowly un-tilted, and her hands left her long cloak, slowly rose into the air on either side of her head. Her unplaceable smile had grown back into place. Both men’s eyes drifted to her hands alight in the air, to her fingers. Her too-long fingers. Suddenly, these walls seemed too close, the air too thick.
The girl’s fingers were all easily a centimeter too long and tapered to sickening points, as though her fingernails were in charge of the whole hand and decided the whole length of the fingers to be claws, instead. The light played off them strangely, not the luster of skin but of keratin, softly reflective.
“What the fuck?” one of them said, a quiver in his voice. Then her smile turned to a grin filled with too many sharp teeth, and as one they opened fire.
—
Yang watched from above, grimacing over an old fire escape at the sharp pops of gunfire.
Her hunger sharpened her vision: the officers’ muscles were tensed and their hands were shaking increasingly, shot after shot kicking back with no reward. The continuous report of their weapons was followed not by the soft sound of lead hitting flesh but the sharp clacks and clangs of concrete and steel as the projectiles missed their mark.
It was one of the more interesting things about their prey’s psychology: when their ears told them their bullets were missing, that their power was failing to produce control, they started to panic. If even just once a bullet made a dull, soft sound instead of a sharp one, it would have brought them comfort.
Yang couldn’t contain her growl, and her hunger grew. She hopped up on the railing and looked down on the men, one still shooting and the other reaching for a backup magazine.
Ruby, having zigzagged away faster than the officers could track, was in place at the end of the alley, leering. They weren’t sure whether to pursue, or run. Too bad it was the last choice they wouldn’t be able to make.
—
A fluttering of cloth, a scratch on the pavement behind them, their spinal reflex in overdrive, the officers’ bodies coiled in reaction - or would have, but suddenly there was a tight, biting sensation in their backs and they were looking up at the rooftops, their limbs flailing weakly, sidearms clattering to the ground. They could only wheeze as the pain registered, premature shock already setting in.
—
With her fingers dug into the muscles in their backs, all Yang had to do was squeeze , and the spines would snap in her palms, and the suffering they’d caused, the trauma and fear - it’d come the closest it could to making sense. But then they wouldn’t be able to feed. Ruby would go hungry and worse, and Yang wasn’t exactly sure of what she wouldn’t do to keep that from happening.
With a forceful growl she drew on her heat, empowering her arms and core, and threw the men into the walls at either side. They crumpled to the ground in bleeding heaps among the garbage and scraps.
Yang spit on the ground and flicked her hands, drawing a line of blood on the dirty pavement. Ruby was back at her side, eyeing Yang’s fingers with a furrowed brow.
“Just knock them out, Yang.”
Yang forced a smirk.
“But that can like, confuse the soul on its way out.” Yang could tell her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Ruby’s pointed expression was enough. Yang suppressed a grimace. “Yeah, I know.”
“You can talk to me about stuff, you know,” Ruby said, giving a soft punch to the shoulder. “And not just because I’m probably the only one that can listen.”
Yang looked at her hands, felt her expression darken - and then almost, almost looked up at Ruby. “I know, Ruby, just… let’s just get this done.”
Ruby held her gaze on Yang for a moment before nodding and then, before either of them could really process it, there was an arm around Yang’s neck.
Yang was yanked down a few inches by her neck while Ruby’s silver eyes flew wide, shock processing before worry and anger, and damn this arm felt like it could pop her head clean off. She heated up and hardened at about the same time as Ruby, but knew by the strength of her assailant (definitely not one of the men, unless she’d been super blind) - and by the point digging into her side - that struggling wouldn’t do much good.
Yang’s senses were on fire, highlighting three things: the assailant was shorter than her but likely, somehow, physically stronger; Ruby’s expression was terrified; and the arm around her neck, skin a muted bronze in tone, was cold and smelled like fresh night air and evergreen.
Yang’s return grip on the arm did little to dissuade its hold on her neck, didn’t even scratch the skin, for Brothers’ sake - and Ruby was bristling, her teeth bared, body coiled.
Oh. The temperature, Ruby’s instinctual reaction, the strength , the apparent speed at which the assailant had advanced -
Vampire.
Probably. What were the chances?
“Let her go,” Ruby growled. It was a little unnerving, to be honest.
“Calecalanth,” growled the attacker. A woman, and she sounded… tired. “Savages.”
“Nice to -hng- meet you, too,” Yang managed. The arm tensed, almost too little to notice.
“I need you both to leave,” the voice growled, “now.”
“What, are you rescuing these dipshits? It’s a little late for…” damn, it was a strong arm, “...for that, sorry.” Air was proving difficult, and Ruby knew it. Getting into a scrap with a fucking vampire (probably), her little sister doing the scrapping, wasn’t what she had planned for the evening. This had to stop.
Yang froze as she felt the head behind her turn - some long, cool hair brushed her ear - and spit on the ground. “Fuck no,” came the response.
Ruby’s eyes suddenly softened almost imperceptibly, and she straightened just a little, gaze still on the attacker. “She’s… thirsty,” she said, somewhere among wonder, anger, and incredible aggression.
“Oh,” Yang blurted. If she stopped to just feel , she could sense the slightest tremors in the arm. The vampire was strong, but she was straining. Shit.
She made a snap judgment.
“Look,” Yang said, fighting her instincts and letting her arms fall away, “if you’re… struggling, you can take one of these assholes.”
“I - what?” the vampire said.
“Yang?” said Ruby - in it Yang heard equal parts trust and caution.
For a brief moment the point left Yang’s side and the arm loosened its grip - Yang didn’t want to damage the tiny headway they were making, so she stayed put. The moment passed and the arm resumed its hold, but the point didn’t return.
“What do you care?” she spat - Yang could practically feel the fatigue, now, radiating from her voice and the way she shifted their weight.
“I care about my sister recharging tonight,” Yang said as she absently realized she’d started to help hold her own weight in her backwards lean. Hell of a core workout. “I think you need the other one more than me and we’re not looking for a fight. I’ll manage.”
“Yang, are you sure?”
“That doesn’t make any sense!” said the vampire, frustration bordering on a sob. “You’re supposed to fight back. Wildly defend and devour your prey. What are you?”
Yang managed a shrug against the underside of the vampire arm despite her posture. “I’m nothing if not astonishing.”
For a moment, there was just the sound of an autumn wind, smelling faintly of fallen leaves and kicking up alley debris, and the occasional groan or gasp from the prey. Yang watched Ruby’s cloak flutter in the breeze and thought of night walks and cool, fresh air.
Then the vampire thrust Yang away and took a few steps back. Getting her balance, Yang stretched her arms upward, tugging muscles in her back. Then she turned to see a woman both terrifyingly beautiful and heartbreakingly harrowed.
The hood of a worn jacket framed a face with striking features crowned by nearly hidden faunus cat ears. Piercing but tired gold-amber eyes flitted back and forth beneath a few loose strands of her long, midnight black hair. There were bags under those eyes, her face was somewhat gaunt, and Yang imagined that even for a vampire, her bronze skin was more pale and muted than it should be. Her eyes were all over the place, both wild and careful, keeping both the environment and the two anomalies in stock. Her amber gaze held Yang’s a breadth longer than Ruby’s before she swallowed heavily and spoke.
“What are you?” she repeated, brandishing the ornate dagger she’d had at Yang’s side a moment before. “Are you a Calecalanth or not?”
“Yeah,” Yang said, crossing her arms. “Not what you were expecting?” For her part, Ruby cocked a hip, then sighed and looked to the dying men.
“Well… no, not really.” The vampire didn’t sheathe the dagger, which Yang noticed seemed to have a silver edge - just who was she carrying it for? - but relaxed enough for her hand to fall to her side. Her unused arm, now freed of its captive, hugged her abdomen instead, as though cold. “Do you not roam, endlessly hungry, killing and eating whoever you cross?”
Ruby made a sound of protest, but Yang let out a bark of laughter, delighted to see the the faintest sparkle of life in the vampire’s eyes. Not everybody could appreciate dry deadpan. But Yang could, and she could tell the vampire was the kind of person to only speak more freely as tension diminished.
“Only on my bad days,” Yang said. Her voice softened. “Most of us aren’t like that.” Yang watched the question nearly escape the vampire’s throat, get pushed down.
“So you don’t… eat people?” she asked instead.
“I really prefer cookies and fried rice,” Ruby beamed, washing away some of the shadow on the vampire’s face like a torch. Yang felt a surge of pride.
“What we need from these… dipshits isn’t their flesh or blood,” Yang said. The vampire raised an eyebrow. They had her attention.
“Then what do you need? ” The woman’s eyes, sunken as they appeared, flitted back and forth. Her veiled humor receded, replaced by guarded skepticism. Yang could see the gears turning beneath the amber.
Yang rubbed her selion and sighed; the woman’s eyes watched the movement of her hand, brow knit. “It’s… it’d be easier to show you.”
“I…” the vampire started, visibly deflating, “I guess… Calecalanth are a myth. To us.”
“So are vampires,” Yang said.
“To us,” Ruby added helpfully.
The vampire’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you calling me a vampire?”
“I mean, to be fair,” Yang said, smile crooked, "we didn’t.”
Did the vampire just pout?
“And,” Yang continued, “bedtime stories and, like, a really strong feeling.”
The vampire exhaled strongly through her nose, contemplative. The way she growled Calecalanth , the way Ruby bristled and it hit Yang like a ton of bricks. There was something there, and the vampire was clearly thinking something similar.
“Ok,” she said, then lowered her chin, the gaze catching Yang off-guard. “Do it. Show me what it is you take.”
“Uh, yeah,” Yang managed, and cleared her throat. “Yeah, ok. We’re about out of time, anyway. Ruby?”
“Are you sure you don’t need it?” Worry battled with urgency on her face.
“I’ll last a night if I need to.”
“If you’re sure…” At Yang’s nod, the vampire watching critically, Ruby turned to the nearer dipshit, lunging down to grasp him around the neck and - in a show of strength that Yang watched the amber eyes file away for reference - shortly had his spasming form held up to the wall with a single hand.
Then she bared her teeth, sharpened canines both top and bottom, and sunk them deeply into the meat of his shoulder.
“I thought you-” the vampire started, tensing at the apparent lie, and paused at Yang’s raised finger and solemn expression. Wait. She waited.
In seconds, the body had ceased its struggling, and the vampire’s eyes narrowed: while blood had escaped the bite, Ruby was clearly not drinking, nor were her teeth grinding or gnashing. The Calecalanth and her prey were perfectly still, save for a shifting that Yang knew to be the man’s quintessence being absorbed by Ruby’s own.
The vampire’s eyes slowly widened and became fixed on Ruby, her arm falling from her abdomen, and she slowly stood a little straighter. Yang thought watching a Calecalanth feed in their way was a lot like watching a bonfire. Clearly, it was similar experience for the vampire. But seeing it for the first time was something else entirely, and Yang found her eyes fixed on the vampire’s experience in watching Ruby feed.
Almost - almost - unexplainable was the intense shifting of pressure, of presence. Even as Ruby let the body fall, it was as though he was no longer there, while Ruby’s presence filled the vision of the watcher. The deed done, she stood tall and breathed deep with her eyes closed and her chin in the air.
Then, it was as though she flexed something, and the air around her swirled red for a brief moment. She turned to them, and her eyes were so full of life . Yang watched as the vampire drew a sharp breath, and knew that she’d probably just realized that, if they really wanted to hurt her, to keep the remaining body for themselves, she wouldn’t stand a shadow’s chance against this fully-charged being in front of her.
For a moment there was only awe and silence. Then, Ruby grimaced and reached for a distant scrap of her cloak. “Blegh,” she said, wiping her face and neck as clean as she could on the fabric.
“Washing machines, am I right, Rubes?” Yang said, sparing a wink for the viewer.
“Yeah yeah, you’re right. Thank the Brothers for washing machines.”
“His soul ,” the vampire breathed.
“He wasn’t using it,” Yang said, rolling her eyes. Then she smiled, bowed. “But yes. From myth to reality. Now you know.”
“Ok, Yang, now I want real food,” Ruby said, bouncing slightly on her heels. “Let’s hurry up and find you another unused one.”
“Soul…” the vampire muttered. “Unused.”
“Seriously, Rubes, it’s fine. I’ll snag someone tomorrow after work.”
“...work,” said the vampire with re-narrowed eyes.
“Well, yeah,” Yang said. “We’re not gonna just steal groceries. We’re not monsters.” She paused, considering, and added “We’re Ruby and Yang. Um, I’m Yang. And this,” she kicked the other officer, pleased to hear a small grunt, “is for you.”
She made a face. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“You’re not a chupacabra. ” At this, the vampire actually laughed , a tiny but deep, tired musical sound that escaped as she finally sheathed her dagger.
Ruby bounded forward, practically vibrating. “So you’re actually a vampire?”
“Ruby…”
“No, it’s ok.” She managed a small smile. “I am. I guess we’re pretty good at recognizing the other.”
At this, Ruby actually squealed. “Oh my gods! You’re real! And you’re not draining us of blood! How strong are you? Do you need to eat? How OLD are you?”
“Something something as the legends say, yeah,” Yang said, placing a hand over Ruby’s mouth, reducing her questions to unfazed mumbles. “Well, um…” Suddenly she was very aware of an unseen time limit, a man to be drained of his remaining blood and a vampire that probably didn’t want it to be a performance.
The vampire exhaled heavily as she tucked her black hair into her hood and behind one ear.
“I… my name is Blake,” she said. “I’m not quite sure how to thank you.”
Even as it continued to dwindle, the flame inside Yang flared - a brief blast of oxygen exciting the crackling embers. Blake. Such a simple sound, but charming and distantly familiar. Like an old house just visible from the road. It was a beautiful name.
“Blake.” Yang, removing her hand from her sister’s mystified face, grinned as as bright as she could despite the slowly dimming light inside her. “Well, maybe next time don’t say hello by putting my head in a vice.”
“And scaring me.”
“And scaring Ruby.”
Blake chuckled weakly, and Yang’s heart ached. “Will do.”
“Ok, well. We’ll leave you to it.” Taking Ruby’s nervously waving hand ( A real vampire, Yang!) , Yang gave one more crooked smile and a two-finger salute and followed another autumn breeze out of the alley, relieved to find it still empty.
Blake the vampire. Yang could swear she saw her mouth the words next time as she had been turning to regard the remaining prey.
Yang couldn’t place why she should feel so much concern for a stranger; a stranger that attacked her, a stranger that’s a vampire for gods’ sake. Despite everything, and nothing, Yang could see the despair beneath those amber eyes.
Fatigue. Grief. She wasn’t sure what Blake was grieving, what she had gone through, but for a being as powerful as her, there had to be a good reason for her to have to nab someone else’s kill.
Then it hit her, thinking about Blake’s cautious and inquisitive demeanor - maybe it was for the same reason Yang and Ruby’s hunting patterns were so restricted. It wouldn’t be hard for a vampire to find food; she just wouldn’t feed on any average person, just like them.
That, and maybe she was even weaker from not feeding then Yang had originally surmised.
Still, Yang thought as they rounded onto a more populated street - Ruby chattering her excitement about vampires in hushed tones, Yang nodding and humming along - she was going to feel this delay in feeding. Over the course of four days she had gone from a bonfire to a late campfire, and by morning she’d feel like a flickering lantern. She’d only done as late as day five a few times before, and it sucked .
“I can go and grab another of them, Yang.”
Yang started, having not realized just how on autopilot she’d been. Flickering flames. “No, Rubes. Thanks, but it’s late, we need actual food, and kicking a nest twice usually doesn’t work out.”
“Fine,” she said, not quite letting it go. “Fried rice to wash out the taste of blood in my mouth.”
“And the taste of you know, like, literal garbage.” Yang felt like she earned the light punch to the shoulder, and smiled a real smile. Tonight there was takeout, a movie with her sister, and shifting thoughts of vampires with golden eyes.
Tomorrow, work. Then fire.