Chapter Text
Blake was lost in the past.
The woman whose office she stood outside reminded her a bit of the impish boy who passed around stolen food in the Camps in Atlas. Many malnourished faunus only survived those trying times because of him and others like him. He'd disappeared after a few months of sneaking into the storeroom to provide extra food. Blake and those in her tent had assumed he'd been captured and killed for the thefts. There had been no small amount of despair before Blake volunteered to steal food for them. Blake hadn't found a way to fight for the faunus from within, until the opportunity to feed her neighbors came along. She hadn't realized how the conditions had weighed upon her before that day. When she saw the gratitude on the faces of the other women and felt the satisfaction of breaking into a storeroom and absconding with an armful of food, she realized just how much the months of passivity had warped her head. That day was the day she broke out of her doldrums and shook off the apathy that confinement fostered. She was by no means happy in her internment, but finding a purpose, a way to fight for her people, gave her a sense of purpose that staved off any sense of despair.
The faunus were only imprisoned for 14 months, but it felt much longer. A year and two months of further dehumanization resulted in every faunus in Atlas making the decision to leave with the departing armies of the other kingdoms, leaving behind the ruin of Atlas for brighter futures abroad. The rest of the world had united to humble Atlas and render their industries, armies, and institutions to rubble. It had taken too long, but that was always the case with injustices on the scale that Atlas perpetuated. It always felt too big to be fought, until that day that it all crumbled down.
Blake shook her head to dash the visions of days gone by. The impish boy carried a memory of a spark. Beyond the office door was a fire contained in flesh. The spark had broken her out of listless melancholy, but it was the fire that reignited her joyfulness, her curiosity, and her longing.
The woman she was here to see had an absurd amount of hair. If Blake were to guess, it was enough hair for five or even six people. This woman, her therapist, hoarded that glorious golden mane all for herself. Blake had been astonished by it when she'd first met Dr. Xiao Long (“call me Yang,” she'd said). Did she even need a pillow to sleep at night? (unknown, Blake didn't know how to ask a question like that without it sounding weird) Was she some sort of faunus with prehensile hair as her trait? (not a faunus, and they'd spent an hour of her second session trying to determine what kind of animal would be the basis for a prehensile-haired faunus with no consensus reached. It had been an ice-breaking exercise Yang started that had gotten out of hand) How does it glow like that? (“It glows?” had been the immediate slightly-panicked response. Apparently it looked normal to Yang, after she'd run to a mirror and returned.)
Blake couldn't stop thinking about her. Yang was not the first therapist she'd been to see, but she was the only one who didn't make Blake feel like she was on trial during her sessions. She was fascinated by her lilac-eyed therapist, and a small part of her didn't want to overcome the echoes of her imprisonment in Atlas. If she conquered these issues, she wouldn't have a reason to come back, to hear that golden laugh and see Yang's face light up as they talked. But... Blake didn't want to live in the past. Blake didn't want to let Atlas linger in her mind. She didn't want to be haunted by memories of despondent faunus, sitting to the side and passively wasting away in the Camps. Yang had helped her take away much of the pain of those memories. She couldn't let that work, that time, go to waste.
There was only one choice for moving forward. She was in a much better place than when she'd first sought out help. She didn't flinch at sirens and horns anymore. She didn't feel like hiding when she saw police officers (it helped that the officers here in Vale wore uniforms vastly different from the Atlesian Police's austere white coats). She felt safe walking around with her ears uncovered. Blake was comfortable enough with the events in Atlas and her part in it, thanks largely to Yang, that Blake had sought out work recording and chronicling the stories of other faunus who had tales of those trying times.
The work was fulfilling and important, and Blake couldn't let down the many faunus who had entrusted her with their stories. If she faltered, if her chronicle were to go unfinished, Blake would have failed them. So, she had worked through her issues. She had fought her demons and left them behind. The world had to know of the horrors of Atlas and not from military reports or sensationalized news reporting. It had to come from the people who had experienced it. It had to be their words, and Blake had to share them before the world forgot.
That was what brought her to today. She was both held aloft and crushed by two forces: her desire to improve the lives and social standing of the faunus, and her desire to spend as much time as she could around Yang Xiao Long.
After a handful of deep breaths, she opened the door.
“Willkommen.” She nodded in response to the greeting from Yang's Atlesian ex-pat co-worker, Weiss. Despite having the same qualifications as Yang, Weiss insisted on acting as both a therapist and the secretary for their practice. Yang had confided to Blake that no prospective secretaries had been orderly enough or quick enough for Weiss, so they elected to save Weiss the headaches, and the both of them the cost of a new hire who would be doomed from the start. “I don't see you on the schedule, Blake, but she'll be free in eight minutes.”
“Good to know.” Blake took a seat and tried not to let the thought of what she was about to do overwhelm her.