aiko's otter den
black cat's curses 1
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black cat's curses - Blake Belladonna is not a faunus.
1. Fractures
She used to be white, like Weiss, and deadly and loyal like her too. It was a long time ago, in fractures.
She used to be white and furry and warm, and someone loved her very much. And the worst part was that she still did. The worst part was that she could feel that love all the way from here, all the way through every painful scream and sob leaving her mouth. She could feel that sweet, heartrending power, begging for another way out, and that way was through her.
Oh, and it was freezing cold now, familiar so it should not have been because even in cold winters she had had the others to keep her warm in the before time—
which was only one time in her memory, she knew that but she appreciated this so much more—
But now she was all alone in here. Well, no, she wasn’t entirely alone. She had three others. The crying child, the broken child, and her. Her other half. The one who had filled her with all of this strength that had burst out and exploded into wings and death and promises.
But now, now that time was over. The girl had reached out to her and begged. She couldn’t remember what she begged for, not even in her dreams. She fell apart before the words made sense.
Blake Belladonna came into being in a rotting forest. Her parents knew this. She was only vaguely aware of it, but it hadn’t mattered. All she’d needed was food and shelter. What mattered was that the universe was noisy. What mattered was that she had started off alone.
Just like some other time, just like a time that she could not remember but she knew about because the light had known about it.
When she was old enough to understand color, she recognized she was no longer the color of a snowstorm, but the shade of a night without candles. It was just right to see, to smell. She hated standing on all fours, but it was the only way to stand with even weight. There was too much to her now.
She was like them, but not of them. She had ears and a tail, but there was purple in her fur, unlike the rough, ragged black of her father. But her parents didn’t care. Her mother nursed her for the cubs that would come, little Licht and rough and ragged Danielle. Sweethearts both and hers to hold. Their scents mixed with hers and she was happy. She was alive and hungry most of the time, but she wasn’t alone, so she was happy.
Even the voice in the back of her mind did not protest her.
Her mother dressed her in robes.
Her tail was safe to move that way she said. Her ears got a bow, and they hid behind them. She was just a little girl, and in the cold forests, bundling up was smarter and safer. They would not know what she was outright: a faunus was enough for someone to hate.
Well, her parents were Faunus. She was other. On those many forms her father filled out, there was a box for other and he checked it with disgust and black pen. For her it was real. For them, it was an insult.
Blake didn’t understand, but they sent her to charm the shopkeepers and the old women and that was her job, her role. She would take it seriously, and everything else would come in time.
Then a man with a monkey’s tail (and she thinks so hard of something else, some monster) got decapitated. And her sensitive cat ears heard every scrape, her eyes see the blood, and she remembered and remembered and longed—
Her parents cannot console her. Her brother and sister cannot console her. Blake hates and hates and hates so naturally. Not the executioner alone, not the man for committing the crime, but all the civilians who merely take her coin and pass her bread. All who talk about their wives and their children, all the business people who just watch the blood seep into the dirt. On and on.
She hates the apathy. She hates herself for just watching.
Blake hates her small hands and easily imagines them as claws.
And there is a voice somewhere deep, that whispers that it would have been her with the rope over her throat and the blade falling down like a stone.
White Fang is full of animals.
Not Faunus, though they call themselves such. Since her father left they have changed into something less… right. They were supposed to be working peacefully for a new future. White Fang was a place where Faunus and humans met and conversed, meant to find answers.
There was not supposed to be red Dust in vials, bombs and blades clashing with one another across rooms.
It is all wrong, this world, this everything. She misses her; she misses conversation. She misses days where she was consistently without hunger or cold.
Blake does not cry. She hasn’t cried in years. Every time she tries she thinks of the begging Faunus dying slowly and no one looking. No one will look at her tears either, so why bother shedding them?
She bows her head to the stars instead, acknowledges the world is too big for her youthful frame, too big and uncaring to let pain go punished.
Adam strokes her wrist. Adam kisses her and it tastes like ash and revenge. He wipes tears away that aren’t there. “We’ll get them back,” he says fiercely, full of passion as the alpha, the head of all these wild brained fools.
Blake swallows. She nods, doesn’t ask for clarification. After the other leader had gone, she had learned not to ask questions. She was as forfeit as the next Faunus.
Even years later, she wears a cloak. Even now that it’s inconvenient, she dresses to where no one can see what she is. No matter how many rallies she goes to, no matter how many people she protects, there is no changing that hiding, scared little girl.
And as he touches her on that cold balcony, as his hands press where her mother used to like, as she thinks of Licht and Danielle another name comes to mind and it truly makes her weep.
Hikari. Her queen. Her everything. Who would love her no matter her scars and heavy eyes. Who loved her and who had consigned her to this.
And now, Blake Belladonna, remembering the red flowing weakly between her fingers, knows why.
Something has to change.