RWBY: Ebbing Darkness - Blake x MaleReader x Yang

Part 15

A solemn silence fell over the camp. With the sun approaching the horizon, the remainder of the tribe stood in a hushed vigil of the dead.
  Some made crude jokes, others reminisced. In the end, laughter led to tears and old memories led to pained smiles.
  Pits of ashes stood before them. Embers remained in the gray masses; remnants of blood and cold, stiff corpses. Only a few had their ashes collected for a scattering, while others, at the word of friends or family, would be fine right where they were.
  In the end, the smells of dinner wafted through the trees and the howls of Beowolves were in the distance. Y/N lagged behind for a moment as he stood over the dead. Raven stood with him, silent, observing.
  "They'll be remembered." He said, breaking the silence with his bellowing voice. "I'll make sure of it."
  Raven wasn't sure what to make of that. One moment he despised humans, and the next he was sure they would be remembered. She wondered with disdain if he was growing soft.
  "How did Summer do?" He asked, his tone hardening.
  "As well as you'd expect." Raven replied. "She didn't kill anyone. Tesino made sure there were no survivors."
  "Good." He said, sounding proud.
  "If... I may ask..." Raven hesitated. It was like she nearly swallowed air, leaving a long pause between them. She initially didn't want to ask, but now seemed to be more appropriate than ever.
  "You may." He said. His tone was neutral yet he almost demanded she say it.
  "What's the plan?" She asked through a sigh. "From here on. It seems it fell through ever since Ozpin."
"Did you ever have the chance of knowing my father?" He asked. It was almost rhetorical, yet the question had meaning.
"Unfortunately," She said sincerely. "No. Though, Summer had a run-in with him once."
"Did she?" He asked, surprised. He chuckled fondly at the thought and nodded. "Despite what most people think, he could be quite the politician. But before that, he was a conqueror, an executioner."
He paid the mass grave one more glance before turning back and beginning a long trek back to camp. Raven followed at a brisk pace, matching his relaxed saunter.
"If there were no negotiations to be made, he would crush the then enemy. Logistics, terror, destruction. When my father was done, the enemy would beg for mercy. There were no negotiations for peace or surrender afterward. They would offer him anything, everything."
"Then?" Raven asked. She held her breath and felt pinpricks ripple across her skin. She thought The Lion was a freedom fighter of sorts, perhaps a vigilante. The thought that he was a general, a conqueror, felt almost like a privilege to know.
"Fire." He replied in a cold voice. "Ozpin has no integrity, Ironwood does. The General wishes to throw his weight around, Ozpin doesn't. What do you think he'll say when I, the one to adopt such tactics, will take the metaphorical reigns? What do you think he'll do if I employ his efforts?"
"Fire." She repeated and he laughed. It was a low sound, one from the belly. He was excited, giddy even. He wasn't known as The Son of The Lion for nothing.
"Of course," He hummed. "We'll need to show him our integrity. We need a strong enough force to drive a wedge between them. When we do that, I'll handle the rest."
"And..." She paused, hesitant again. "If that doesn't work?"
His beaked helm pointed her way and his crimson glare analyzed her form. She couldn't tell if it was with disrespect or out of curiosity.
"Fire, Raven." He chuckled. "Nobody is immune to it."

Blood had crusted over Y/N's armor. It stained Raven's but she had changed. Understandably, Y/N had set it all aside for now.
He was remarkably normal for someone his size, Raven noted. He wasn't an ancient statue depicting strength through hard and cut muscles. He had a healthy layer of fat to his build, and only flaunted it about when he wore a sleeveless tunic underneath it all.
He was a child, or perhaps a young adult. It was hard to tell. He seemingly maintained his hygiene, keeping his silver hair at a specific length and style while his face was rugged yet smooth.
Again, it was strange to see him like that. He held a hushed conversation with a friend, Blake, she thinks her name was, while just a day before he was cackling like a madman.
Looking back, she saw that Summer thought the same thing. Yet she was much more remorseful than she was.
"Can we talk?" Y/N had asked Blake. Yang looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed before she turned back. Raven wished she had some sort of advice for her, but anything to come to mind was ultimately Y/N's decision, not hers.
"Sure." Blake replied. He stood and offered his hand, helping her to her feet.