Spool of Glass (RWBY x OC Fanfic)

A Fox and a Florist by the Wayside

She could hear the pulse of her heart through her ears.

The first thing Cinder learned that day, was how hot and stuffy it was to ride on Nameless's back while hiding beneath her tattered cape. The fabric of the cape itself was surprisingly slippery like the silk cushion covers she had to change every week. Even as the girl clung to the glowing adult's shoulders, the tailored shirt and vest Nameless wore was by far the strangest textures she had ever touched. Rigid, yet lightweight.

Nameless paused. "Let me know if it's too uncomfortable, alright?"

"I... I'm okay," the girl leaned against her back, hoping not to fall from an adult's height.

The glowing adult nodded, then proceeded to move at a careful pace. Having to be carried on someone's back in the dark heightened the child's senses; jogging her memory back to the day she was removed from the orphanage. The stench of body odour she had to endure before she was transported into a box with no windows. But unlike back then, she could only smell a fresh bouquet of flowers on Nameless's clothes. The kind of scent that provoked a memory she could no longer remember.

Then a terrible thought crossed her mind.

What if she'll take me somewhere worse? What's gonna happen if the madam finds out I was missing?

A sudden cold draft blew their way, prompting Cinder to hold tight over Nameless's shoulders and clung to her neck. "Where are you taking me?"

"To a flower shop," Nameless answered. "Owned by the pettiest florist in all the universe."

Flower shop?

For some reason, to hear of a shop that sells flowers in a cold kingdom like Atlas sounded strange to her ears.

________

Atlas doesn't grow flowers.

A mechanized kingdom like Atlas, by no stretch of Remnant logic could not have possibly existed; much less thrive with just gravity dust alone. But much to the sourness of a few cumbersome folk, it does. And yet, contrary to their ever-advanced technology, they couldn't grow a patch of brilliant red flowers; much less a potted plant.

Perhaps, that was why a florist like Pimpernel Scar thrived within the confines of this cold, grey civilisation.

'A Wayside flower' may have appeared to be an over-priced flower-shop, but the fashionable Atlesian circles couldn't deny the value of its wares. Especially since Pimpernel's 'Cultivation' semblance allows him to grow vegetation in almost every surface imaginable. From dust to the palm of his hand, he could grow any flower within the boundaries of his imagination. Naturally, if such quality crafts were made by hand, the product itself was almost three-digits worth of lien.

The doorbell rang, signalling a new customer, beckoning for the red-haired florist to stroll out from the staff room.

"Good evening dear customer~! What can I do for you to-" the florist's business smile dropped into a frown. "Oh, it's just Nameless."

"Hehe," the idiot tilted her head to the side. "Good evening to you too, Nell."

Nameless wore her cloak in an odd way that made it hike up to her waist, making her seem more suspicious than usual. The glaring detail was the unusual 'hump' that's stuck beneath the tattered cloth.

"Whatever you've got in there screams bad news, my dear," the florist head-pointed at the hump.

With one hand, the smiling idiot undid the cape's clasp to reveal a child riding on her back. To be precise, one who's face looked awfully familiar-