Destiny No More

Chapter 11

"Ah! Fuck!" Qrow jumped back slightly, barley restringing himself from breaking the hunk of junk in front of him. The shock hadn't hurt too much, not with his tolerance and aura, but he had responded on instinct, the surprise startling him at the very least.

The building they were in was mostly intact, though the front wall had been badly charred by the fires that had claimed the rest of the town. What made it the best choice however, was the small generator that he had found in the basement.

Qrow had felt like a genius when he lugged it up the stairs, once he got the radios working he would be able to hook them up to it and they could call for an evac. Unfortunately, the stupid things had been all kinds of screwed up.

Whoever had destroyed the village had done a fairly thorough job, but they had clearly been in a rush. They hadn't completely destroyed the radios, trusting the fires to do the rest of the job.

One man's failure was another's success, or something like that. He was fairly confident he could get at least one working with the parts from the other two, most combat schools having classes for just this kind of scenario, so long as he didn't chuck it out a window for shocking him again.

It would just take time, something he wasn't sure they had an abundance of. Qrow spared a glance over his shoulder. He'd set Amber down into a chair right in front of the fireplace before getting to work on the radios, houses outside the kingdoms rarely having any kind of advanced heating systems.

She had simply stared at the fire for the last hour, not moving or saying a word. He could understand the latter and he wouldn't press her to speak if it was likely to cause damage, but she was usually so much more interactive. He had expected her to insist on helping him repair the radio, despite the fact she never would have been taught how to fix it, or to at least try and move around somewhat.

Instead, she'd stayed in front of the fireplace, occasionally switching her eyes between her palm and the flames.

He kept trying to write it off as a near death experience, or maybe the shock was still wearing off, but it felt like something different. He still couldn't identify it but something was wrong with her. He wanted to wait until Beacon, until he'd had a chance to talk with Oz and Goodwitch about it but... the unease was starting to get to him.

Pyrrha traced a finger over her palm, noting how soft they felt. A lack of the calluses she had grown used to while fighting. It was strange, she didn't feel too different from her original body, and at the same time she could feel every difference.

The alien feelings of her body had distracted her for much of their walk to the settlement, much to her annoyance, and now she wished that they would overwhelm her senses once more. Instead, she found herself thinking of the people who had died because of her.

Because of Amber, not me.

She had to keep reminding herself of that fact, the guilt didn't go away despite her best efforts. Whether it was her own guilt or not was another issue altogether.

"-e a hand with this piece of-I'm gonna break it if I don't take a break." Pyrrha was so deep in thought that she hadn't even realised he was talking to her for a moment, only snapping out of her haze when he set a hand down on her shoulder.

Her brown eyes seemed to stare right through him, as if looking for an explanation as to why he had interrupted her. They were the same eyes he had seen a thousand times when he had been training her, teaching her how to be a proper Hunter, but there was something else within them, something that he didn't recognize.

"I'm gonna take a break, feel free to take a crack at it." Qrow gestured to the table, not truly expecting anything from her. Much to his surprise, Amber, with some difficulty, stood and moved over to the radio and began to work on it. "Let me know if you make any progress, I'm gonna see if I can find some food or, better yet, a drink."