Short Writings Collection

"Enjoy"

- Jeanne aka Fiernull

N/A: Will continuously add writings here.

Part 1
A/N: LastZephyr - Proofreader

I was six years old when I finally went beyond the boundaries of the columbarium. My guardian, Darcie, had forbidden me from going anywhere near the walls of metal surrounding our home, so I didn't know what was out there except for two things: the mysterious mansion by the hills, and an armored car carrying strange people. But that all changed when Darcie told me that we were going to the mansion.

I never saw the expressions my guardian made back then. There was a metal mask melted onto her upper face, worn and dented, but smooth. Her white bear ears would just twitch, as always, barely revealing what was always in her mind. However, her being the only other thinking creature at the columbarium, I knew very well what she wanted - she would rather deal with burning dead people to ashes than talk to the living people here, or let her Dust Spells do the talking. Every time she spoke with certain strange people we came across inside the mansion, her grip on my hand tightened painfully, nearly crushing my hand one time. But she never forgot to apologize to me afterwards.

Upon entering a large audience chamber, Darcie stepped forward and bowed politely to a figure sitting elegantly on the throne. The matriarch, as my guardian called her, gazed at me, and the room's temperature fell in a blink of an eye. I couldn’t remember what happened next, but the matriarch with similar eyes to mine was referred to as “mother”. And there was a man with the same shamrock green hair as mine, someone I was told to call "father". Then there were "sisters" and a "brother", "cousins" and "uncles" and "aunties". There were so many unfamiliar words that Darcie had only mentioned in passing, but never explained. Some of my "relatives" called me "grave girl" and "bastard", the latter easily incurring my guardian's wrath, something I never understood until I grew older. But among the words thrown around me, there was a single word that these strange people kept calling me. I didn't know I had another name. It was far cry from the name "darling" that Darcie would always call me.

It was Cyzarine. Cyzarine Bluthardt.

Part 2
Sitting on the window sill, a six-year old girl swings her legs three storey feet above the whiten earth. Covering her shamrock green hair is a winter cap, white bear ears sticking out on top and complimented with a pair of sewn black buttons and a thin black line curled upwards; a smiling polar bear. Darcie also made a matching bear paws for her so that she would look like her new friend. The mittens are cute, almost like small pillows that she could sleep on them. But at the same time she doesn't want to wear them, afraid of getting them dirty. The little girl gazes at warm orange light dancing between her small palms; she gulps, wearing a fearful expression at the sudden thought of accidentally burning the soft, fluffy mittens.

Turning her head, she looks up at the grandfather's clock, which stands at the corner of the dark room lit by a lone candle surrounded by books. Her pulses quicken slightly at the time, and abruptly she leans forward, bottom inching at the edge of concrete dangerously. Her round dark blue eyes darted, scanning the thick cluster of pine trees beyond the gates, and listening for the faintest sound of footsteps crunching against the heavy snow. Darcie has been gone for almost a week now. And today is the day she's supposed to be back home.

Without warning, harsh wintry gusts sweep from the north, icy clutches caressing her figure and making the little girl shudder beneath her thick clothes. The warm light disappears in a puff, as she holds down her cap and clutches the mittens close to her chest. It lasts only for a moment, and quickly the gusts disappear as soon as they appeared.

Suddenly, the steel gates groan, and howls of wolves vibrate in the morning, cold air. Her ears perk up, and the little girl looks up; dark blue orbs locking on the worn and dented skull mask, and then at the pair of eyes as green as the blooming leaves in spring.

"Darcie!"

Heavily wrapped in ragged cloth, Darcie walks with ease through the snow, followed by a pack of friendly wolves that have probably crossed paths with her. Her straight blue hair billows, almost covering the white bear ears flicking on top of her head. The woman looks up at the little girl, smiling.

"Hello, darling."

Part 3
A six-year-old girl clings to Darcie's rough hand, hiding behind the woman and staring dreadfully at the giant armored car before them. She wears a white baby bear beanie, shamrock green hair sticking out through the cracks, her favorite fluffy bear mittens swinging under her wrist. Darcie had prepared a small backpack for her; packed with extra food and clothes, and plushies if she ever gets lonely. Not only that, the polar bear faunus has also been preparing her for this crucial day- her second time going outside the columbarium, and most importantly, without Darcie and her friends nearby for three straight days.

With downcast eyes, she turns her head and hears the growls and yips of her friends behind the bolted gates: a pair of polar bears with three cubs, a pack of four wolves, three arctic foxes, and lastly, a white tiger. Darcie told her repeatedly that they're not allowed in the mansion; they are dangerous, a strange thing for her guardian to say when she's the one who has been adopting and raising their friends all this time. "Darling," Darcie calls her out gently, her tone quite hoarse. "It's... time to... go."

The little girl nods her head hesitantly, her small fists turning white against Darcie's brown hand, whimpering. Looking up, she peers through the raggedy skull mask's eye sockets.

The polar bear faunus turns her head at the armored car, bright green eyes expressionless, but her white bear ears are twitching nervously. "You'll be... fine. You're a strong... girl. And try to make... friends there, okay?"

At that, Darcie bends her knees, wrapping her firm arms around the little girl before carrying her up. Walking over to the armored car, she whispers. "I'll make lots... of barbecues... when you return."

"... Lots?" The little girl finally speaks, her words muffled a bit as she buries her face on Darcie's shoulder, savoring the comforting hand stroking her back.

"And new... mittens. Brown... bear paws."

The little girl straightens her back and stares straight at Darcie's green orbs. "Promise?"

Humming, Darcie pulls the her charge closer, leaning her mask's metal forehead against the girl's.

"Promise."

The armored car's door pops up, sliding open to reveal an empty backseat. Carefully, the polar bear faunus settles the little girl on the seat, making sure that she's comfortable before pulling a seatbelt to secure her.

"Ah... Darling?"

"Hm?" The little girl looks up, tilting her head as she brings out an arctic fox plushie.

"Do you remember your... name?"

"Um...." The little girl's brows crease, struggling to find the answer. "It starts with letter C but... Mhm I don't remember it."

Sighing softly, Darcie fixes the bear beanie on the girl's head. "Cyzarine. Remember that... darling. At the mansion... People will call you in that name, not... darling, do you understand?"

"Cyzarine." The girl repeats diligently, her tongue and ears unused to the word. But she repeats nonetheless. "My name is Cyzarine."

"Very good."

Smiling, Darcie kisses her forehead and steps back from the armored car. The little girl called "Cyzarine" looks back at her, returning a bigger smile.

"Mittens and barbecues!"

As if on cue, the door hisses and smoothly slides back to its place, finally separating the woman and the girl between two different realms; one remaining in the realm of the dead, the other joining the ranks of the elites

"Of course." Darcie whispers solemnly, waving at Cyzarine peeking over the window, watching the armored car disappear into the woods and between the snowy hills.

Hilda
A/N: LastZephyr - Proofreader

Whether it was because of bad luck or some twisted play of the universe, I was partnered up with a feral child. A feral child, of all things. I remembered looking with a critical eye at the disheveled little girl, my 11-year old brain screaming and cursing at my nonexistent luck. No one would choose her. No one would choose me. The guardians did the math. And they had thought that putting two unwanted children - a feral and a dirty Bluthardt - together was the best answer. Brilliant. Just. Fucking. Brilliant.

I'm really enjoying this family quality time.

Three months ago, I was relaxing at our villa with a mocktail in hand in Vale. Alone. Fuck so-called friends. My father had an awesome reputation.

Two months ago, I was riding a horse at my mother's second home. Alone. Mother had to serve for her "crimes to the family".

One month ago, I came to this land of grandeur for my debut to the main family. Alone. My parents aren't allowed here. Their reputation are too dirty and foul for the servants to clean up.

And then two days ago, some bitch took my eye in our spar. She was almost the same age as me, the first daughter of the matriarch. My asshole "cousins" had unanimously decided that I was an inferior, dirty Bluthardt, “as expected of the daughter of the scum”. Mother. Father. I love you. But what the fuck? Without thinking, I kicked the wall, and clutched my throbbing foot. Even the wall hated me.

"Aaa...?"

"Shut up. I'm thinking." I said sharply, crossing my arms as I gazed up at the ridiculously high ceiling of the training room. It was only the two of us at that time, way ahead of schedule. I would rather not cross paths with the dickheads we were going to train with.

Then I heard a growl beside me. I turned my head to her.

"... We just ate."

"..."

She didn't respond and looked down with a pink face. I sighed, flicking my hair, as I stared at her. "Go to the kitchen. I'll wait for you. The headmistress probably won’t get angry this time." I said, low-key telling her to leave me.

She just blinked at me, tilting her head with a worried expression. "..."

"... What's that supposed to mean?"

She pointed at me, and then at her mouth.

"I'm not hungry... Just go, eat, or whatever."

Using her hands, she made a walking gesture and more complicated signs that summed up to one thing: she didn't know where the kitchen was. How convenient. I heard that she could talk, and she understood everything I had said, so her feral child status was obviously questionable. However, for some unfathomable reason, I never saw her speak to anyone. And she growled a lot, like a feral animal.

"Well, what do you want to eat?" I asked, annoyed, even though I knew I wouldn't get an answer. Playing the nice babysitter was the best and quickest solution to end this charade.

She hummed, and then looked at me with a sheepish expression and a shrug. "I don't know. Any food will do. I'm very sorry for troubling you."

"... Remnant's balls,” I muttered under my breath as I turned away and walked towards the door. “Just sit tight. Don't do anything stupid, are we clear?”

“Aaa! (Aye!)”

I thought I needed to see a doctor. It legit felt like she’d spoken inside my head.

Lonely Suzhen Heiress
If there is a promise that wouldn't break, then there must also be a promise that would break. Antithesis, as they call it. One cannot exist without the other. But that doesn't seem to apply to her case. She doesn't remember a promise that she hasn't broken.

Fen turns her head the moment her feet crossed a line, stopped by sharp, painful clash of steels reverberating in the night air. The towering gates slammed shut, dispelling any final thoughts of retracting her decision that has been straining her mind. She gazes past the thick black bars in front of her, peering at her now former home. Her pinks eyes dart at every corner of the mansion, at every lit windows, and at every doors that must've been cracked open, even just a tiny little bit. After a moment, Fen tears away her downcast eyes from the sight.

There's not a single soul standing by the gates seeing her off, nor even a flying kiss of goodbye from her parents like before. Of course, why would they- the very people who disowned her- care for her? She'd promised to them that she would inherit their will. She'd thought she could match their cold, selfish intentions as they smiled and shook hands with hopeful young business men and women. Only to realize one day that she couldn't bear to look at the eyes of her next victim and then promise a bright yet empty future.

How can her parents do it? More so, how can her older sister swallow the thought of deceiving others and act as if it were nothing? All those times she’d mulled about it over and over again, staining her hands with dirt and blood. And as her conscience slowly numbed at the face of blatant acts of atrocities, she believed she’d reached the summit; where her parents and sister stood and where she can crush those who gets in her way. Until she finally broke her very first promise.

It wasn’t her intention, but she’d broken the promise regardless- promise between friends; first, by selling her friends to her older sister; and second, by threatening Platinum and Automne with the power of the Dragons. And then endangered Automne for the second time when they were supposed to just talk; fucked it up because she wanted the upper hand over her, fucked it up because she was too afraid to show how powerless she truly is.

Thick high clouds filter the silver light, rolling past the moon and all the way to the hills, and Fen finds herself standing in the darkness. The lights flicker in and out, strong, cold whispers in the sky heralding the coming of the storm.

Shaking her head, she begins to walk, pink luggage dragging and wobbling along the exquisitely carved concrete distorted with soft pattering of tears falling from the darkened heavens.

Umi and Cyzarine - AU
Umi has been trying to arrange her messy hair in front of the mirror, combing and putting it in place, only for it to return to its ruffled state the minute she leaves it alone. For once, she wants her hair to look prim and proper, but it seems that it has a mind of its own mind and stubbornly refuses to comply to her wishes.

Sighing in frustration, the fish faunus tosses the hair brush and stands up straight in front of the mirror. At least her usual garb is easy to take care; she has washed her clothes diligently and used a fabric conditioner with the most tantalizing smell. And then her jewelries and naginata are polished to the point that they appear to perfectly reflect the sunlight.

Twirling in front of the mirror, Umi hums jovially, checking for any flaws (other than her hair) in her preparations. Not that she's done yet. There's one last thing she have to do:

Applying makeup.

She has never done it herself before, but she has to do this if she's going to meet up with-

"Umi? Are you done yet?" Cyzarine's voice floats into the room, sending the fish faunus suddenly into panic mode.

"Oh, um, n-not yet! Five more minutes!" Umi replies, clumsily trying to pry open the make up kit. Just as she's about to follow up, the door knob turns, and the door creaks open.

"... You said that 30 minutes ago... is everything okay?" Cyzarine asks, looking at her with a worried expression as she enters the room and closes the door behind her.

"Yeah. Totally fine. I-I'm just about to put this in my face."

At those words, Cyzarine glances at the makeup kit in Umi's hands, staring at it for a moment before looking back at the fish faunus. She wears a puzzled expression. "Why do you need a makeup? We're just going out to... buy some Dusts."

"W-Well... You see..." Umi trails off, twirling her hair nervously. She wants to impress Cyzarine, but at the same time she doesn't want Cyzarine to think that she's desperate for attention.

Seeing that the fish faunus has descended to her nervous state, the young Bluthardt just lets out a soft sigh.

"Besides, you're already cute, so you look fine even without makeup."

"W-Wha?"

Umi feels her cheek grow hot hearing those words, turning her into jumbled mess.

"You're cute," Cyzarine repeats again, flashing a smile at the fish faunus, as she picks up a blanket on the floor and puts it on the unkempt bed. "So I think you're fine just the way you are."

And the rest of the morning is spent with Cyzarine wiping nosebleed off of Umi and tending to her because of apparent fever.

Darcie
A/N: LastZephyr - Proofreader

Silver rays stream through the holes of the steep roof, the edges upon which dry leaves teeter like daggers on the edge of falling. Inside the hut, a little girl lies on a bed of hay, warmed only by a roughspun tunic and a tattered blanket.

The little girl coughs, hand crawling out limply as she reaches for a half-empty glass of clouded water. Her fingers are as thin as sticks, lips pale and cracked from toiling for days with little food and water. The slice of bread that she'd stolen from the guards had turned stale already, left to be feasted upon by large, hungry rodents in the corner. After months without rain, the once bountiful farm is steadily turning into a wasteland. And with most of the streams and rivers dried up, cattles and pigs have begun to fill the dusty paths of the village with their rotting corpses. She could smell the dead goats just under the nippa hut, their stench mixing with the soiled aging bamboo slat floor.

The little girl pulls the glass closer to her, inch by inch, her tongue waiting in anticipation. This is the last water left in this house, and she'll have to be very meticulous saving it up until tomorrow. Somewhere in the mountain near the village, the masters told them that there was still a running stream remaining there. And she, along the others, has been tasked with making the long journey to fetch the water. Long journey or not, that doesn't matter to her. She can already taste the ghostly touch of cool, fresh water on her tongue and skin.

Clinging to her imagination, she tries to push herself up, arms trembling and numb from lack of blood flow, only to slump back to the floor with a thud. The chains on her neck and wrists rattle. The glass shakes, and it eventually spills into her dark blue hair splayed on the floor. Whimpering, the little girl scrambles to salvage the water, turning painfully to her side as her lips touches the floor to suck the sinking liquid.

Every last drop counts.

"Here. Drink mine, sister."

White bear ears perk, and the little girl lifts up her head. In front of her stands a thin little girl, curly aquatic hair nearly veiling her chocolate eyes, holding a worn bota bag. She kneels beside the girl, and drips warm water gently into the waiting mouth that hungrily drinks it.

"Better?" "Mhm." The girl with white bear ears nods weakly, licking her moist lips as she makes a guilty face. "Thanks. But please save the water next time."

The other girl nods wordlessly, and cold air suddenly slips through the bamboo walls, piercing through the already thin blankets filled with holes. Shivering, the girl reaches for her own hay bed, and scoots closer to her sister. They cuddle one other under the blanket, and they drift back to sleep - back to their dreamland of happiness.