Touch (Conti.)

It probably went without saying that cities were noisy. With thousands and thousands and thousands of people living their lives, it was only natural for it to be loud. Even beyond what was immediately audible, though, there was a lot to be heard in even out of the way places, if your ears were good enough.

Levant's were. Or rather, as an Air Elemental, she didn't need ears to begin with. Because all the air within a rather large volume was under her influence, she could 'hear' things simply by the vibrations they left in the medium. She could feel sound in a way far beyond all but the most exceptional creatures or machines could perceive.

Granted, a lot of the things she heard, she probably just ignored. As I said, in a place like a city, there were a lot sounds and most of them probably didn't mean anything to her. Levant was the wind, old beyond reckoning despite her young appearance, and, in her 'life' before becoming my Elemental, had probably born witness to the rise and fall of empires, great loves and betrayals, and countless acts of heroism and depravity alike—but what did any of those things matter to the wind?

Hell, from the perspective of the Elements, Mankind was a new fad—and, between the Grimm and ourselves, probably not one that would stick around too much longer. Even if the wind somehow did have a mind of its own, some strange form of awareness independent of its summoning, what reason did it have to care if we laughed or cried, suffered or rejoiced?

But I cared about those things. And Levant cared that I cared.

So when she heard, amidst the countless noises of the city, the sound of people suffering, she whispered them to me—and I acted. It wasn't a single sound, not even close; the sad truth was that in a city as large as Vale, there were countless people suffering in ways beyond counting. There were people weeping over broken hearts, people drinking to numb the pain, addicts shaking and wasting away in back alleys, sounds of violence, the results of accidents, sickness, poverty, hunger—

There were a lot of people in pain. I knew mentally that it was nothing in the grand scheme of things, that only a tiny fraction of the population was suffering at any given time—but a fraction was suffering all the time. The faces changed, the reasons changed, but someone was always getting hurt, whether by others or themselves or things that no one could control. And there…there were so many. Another horrible truth was that you couldn't save everyone; you couldn't even help everyone. There were lots of reasons, from situational factors to opportunity costs to countless other things, but you couldn't. You couldn't even come close. I knew that the moment I heard a hundred voices in pain, listened to a wave of suffering so immense that individuals were dragged under and erased. There was nothing I could do to help them all.

But not being able to help everyone, I reckoned, was no reason not to try to help as many as you could, nor did it lessen the value of helping people.

So I tried. From sound alone, much less the wash of different voices Levant brought to my ears, it was impossible to determine who was most in need or where they were or who should be helped in what order. This was, I realized a bit belatedly, my first time truly out in the city with Levant, to say nothing of the first time she was doing this. She was trying to help but I don't think she really knew how; she knew that people were in pain, but I wasn't certain she completely understood the concept and I, her main link to the human experience, probably wasn't the best example to learn from in that regard. Neither Levant or I would be bothered, or even truly wounded, by say…a few bullets or a car wreck, so what did either of those things mean to Levant? She wasn't truly alien, she was intelligent and capable of learning, but this…this was something she'd had neither experience with nor use for.

So instead, she just relayed everything, knowing I didn't like it when people were in pain. And that told me a lot, but not really what I needed to do something about it. Later, perhaps, I could teach Levant how to distinguish between and decide the value of targets, but for now…for lack of any better option, I just asked her to cut down her range, limiting the number of voices to those closest before letting her guide me to specific voices. I spent a moment listening and heard something very…familiar, picking it out amidst the noise.

She pointed and I followed.

There, She spoke into my mind, distant and gentle at once. Even without her words, I could hear the sounds of crying from within the alley and it seemed like I wasn't the only one—but I meet the severe looking man's eyes calmly and said nothing as I continued forward, making him hesitate.

Level six, I noted absently as I stopped before him, skimming his profile with a moment's focus. A past record and some time…I'd like to hope for the best from those around me, but given the circumstances…

"Leave, Ecru," I said with a sigh, gesturing dismissively as I dropped his name. "You don't even want to try."

And then, just in case, I added.

"I'll handle this."

The man paused at my words and gave me a once over—but I couldn't imagine the streets of Vale were especially kind to those inclined to harass a strangely dressed passerby. He saw the armor, the roses, and how I held myself and wordlessly decided to be elsewhere. I watched him leave calmly and then walked down the alleyway.

"Hello?" I said, though I knew full well where they were. "Are you okay?"

The crying went belatedly silent, dropping into frightened, shaking breaths. I gave them a moment before moving with slow steps into their view. Curled together beside a cardboard box someone had put in the alley were a boy and girl, hands and faces smudged and dirtied with the general grim of this part of the city. Matching blonde hair and brown eyes made me think they were related, which I confirmed with a glance above their heads. Twins of some kind, most likely; though the sister looked a fair bit taller, she'd probably just hit a growth spurt already.

"Hello," I said again, tone gentle as I crouched slowly. I made sure to stay far enough away that they weren't in easy reach, trying to allay their worries. "Are you okay?"

Neither said a word, clinging tighter to one another as they watched me with wary, fearful eyes. It seemed like a rather extreme reaction; I'd have figured the flowers would have allayed some of their suspicion. It worried me enough to press a bit harder.

"You're Johannes and Margaret Wild, right?" I asked, taking a chance by saying their names. "Your parents must be worried sick."

"You know us?" Johannes asked before his sister hushed him.

"No they aren't," She said venomously. "She left us here."

I frowned.

"Did she now?" I murmured. That…what that implied made this more complicated. Beyond what I could easily deal with, honestly, but… "Then it's worse than I thought. Still, you can't very well stay here. This isn't much of a place for children; if someone besides me had found you…"

And someone almost had, I thought. I wasn't sure if they were lucky or if I was, but I couldn't leave them here.

"And who are you?" Margaret nearly sneered, a surprising amount of bitterness in her voice.

I only hesitated for a moment before shifting my armor subtly with Crocea Mors and lifting my helmet.

"The name's Jaune Arc," I said, smiling at them. "I'm a Hunter. Er, well, I'm training to be one. I help people. Like…like this. Here, I won't hurt you."

I lifted a hand for them to see before slowly extending it toward, just one finger extended. I paused as they cringed away slightly, halting until they relaxed, before gently poking the boy and healing my. Minor scratches and bruises closed and a bit of color returned to his cheeks. He let out a little sound of astonishment, his sister staring at him with wide, astonished eyes. I smiled at her warmly and held out a hand to her, waiting as she deliberated before touching her fingers to my own, healing her when she did.

"See?" I said, trying to sound cheerful to distract them from the situation. "Good as new, right?"

"I…" Margaret hesitated for a moment before drawing her hand back to her chest, looking nervous. "It…it doesn't matter…"

It was hard to remain smiling hearing her say that, the dejected quality in her voice nearly dragging it from my face—but I pressed on, trying to look calm and kind and serene.

"Sure it does," I said. "We don't want you or your brother getting hurt now, do we?"

"It doesn't matter," She insisted, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "We're—"

"It'll be okay," I said soothingly. I wanted to reach out and pat her head, but no—I kept out of her space, kept my hands still and where she could see them. "I promise. I'll handle it."

"You," She demanded. "What are you going to do about this?"

She gestured vaguely. At what, I had no idea. As it happened, I didn't really know what to do about this situation, either, besides taking it to the police. I mean, sure, there was a part of me that wanted to go hero of justice and track down the parents that had apparently abandoned their child, but that wouldn't actually help the kids—and there was a chance, however slight, that this was a misunderstanding. Either way, though, the wise thing to do would be to take this to the VPD, which is what I intended to do.

But…should I just pick them up and haul them to the police? I could probably do it pretty easily and it'd be the fastest way—but I didn't want to. Looking at them, seeing how they'd reacted to my presence, I could see how alone and scared they were and I wanted to…

"Well, I'll help you, of course," I claimed. "I may look a bit odd, but I'm a bit of a hero, you see. Like…like…"

I searched for an example they'd recognize and smiled.

"Like X-ray," I said.

"But you don't even look as strong as Vav," Johannes said with innocent skepticism that made me flinch. His eyes widened. "Wait, I'm sorry!"

"It's…" I sighed to myself as I slouched. "It's okay. I…I guess it was kind of arrogant of me to compare myself to X-ray in the first place…"

Johannes looked sad for me, to the point that I thought he might cry again. Margaret just looked at me like she thought I was very, very sad.

"But…" I continued, pulling myself together. "Believe it or not, I really try my best to help people. I found you that way, you know; I was patrolling for those in need."

"Really," Johannes asked, amazed.

"Really," I said solemnly. "I keep on the lookout for anyone I can help."

"Prove it," Margaret said, seemingly on the verge of rolling her eyes.

"Uh," I said before thinking for a moment. "Okay. I actually detected several other distress signals in the nearby vicinity. There's even one…"

I paused to glance at Levant.

"Over there," I pointed in the same direction as her, standing to hurry towards it. Johannes scurried quickly after me, causing Margaret to rise in alarm and swear like sailor.

But she followed both of us out of the alley and into another one a ways down the other side of the street. I paused at the entryway, scanning the filthy but seemingly empty alley with a slight frown.

"…There's no one here," Margaret said, panting just a bit as she caught up to us and looked around. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

I ignored that, listening as Levant amplified the sound of paining breathing. She'd made it loud enough that I hadn't realized it before, but I probably should have guessed, given what Levant was doing—and if I followed the direction…

I got down on my belly and peered under the old dumpster, squinting against the shadows.

"Hey, little guy," I cooed, Observing it. It was a small dog, hidden in the shadows and the filth and looking…awful. Filthy, hungry, sick, wounded…he looked terrible. I think he was one of the Atlesian breeds, maybe a husky or something, but I didn't have much of an eye for dogs. It could have been a mutt, too, I guess, but whatever it was it must have been on the streets for a while now though it barely looked capable of taking care of itself. A glance at its status effects…

Definitely sick. The injuries it had taken fighting…whatever it had fought were infected, as were its ears and parts of its skin. It had worms, fleas—the list went on and on and got worse as it did. I was honestly amazed it had survived this long—it must have been really lucky, especially to have lasted long enough to meet me.

Or, I wondered not for the first time, was this my Luck.

It didn't matter. I placed a hand on the underside of the dumpster and lifted it absently so I could see under it better, making the children gasp—at me or the dog I wasn't sure—and causing the puppy to growl, a surprisingly fierce sound, if one full of pain.

"Shh," I said soothingly. "It's okay. It's okay."

I lifted a hand, reaching towards it but its growl merely got louder. It didn't try to move or run, probably incapable at this point, but it didn't stop, either.

"You're a fighter, huh?" I said in the same voice, pausing as I reached out. The armor had been designed with Crocea Mors' gauntlets in mind and without them, my hands were bare.

Probably for the best, I thought as I turned off my Metal Aura and Hide. If my hands had been armored, it might hurt itself.

I reached out to touch the dog and was unsurprisingly bitten—but it was so weak it didn't really hurt even without several of my defenses. As it held onto me, I gently brushed its snout with a thumb and began healing it. I stayed like that for a moment, supporting the dumpster and gently stroking the dog as it healed, but after a moment it let go of me on its own, allowing me to scratch its muzzle and then its ears. After a moment, I was even able to gently coax it out and lower the dumpster again.

The little dog sniffed my face once and began licking it as I finished up the last of its healing, looking healthy again, if still dirty and missing a lot of hair. Even so, as I picked it up and cradled it gently, I saw some of the hardness in Margaret's expression melt away.

"Fine," She admitted, grudgingly. "I guess it hard to believe you're a complete asshole when you've got roses and puppies."

I smiled at that, scratching the dog's belly absently even as I wondered when a prepubescent girl learned to swear so easily. I probably wouldn't like the answer.

"Do you do this all the time?" Johannes asked, looking exceedingly impressed. "Save kids and puppies?"

"Not all the time," I admitted honestly after a moment of thought. "But whenever I can, I suppose."

"Are you…" Margaret asked, looking abruptly uncertain. "Are you going to take us back to our parents?"

I looked at her for a moment, judging her reactions.

"No," I said. "Not if they left you here. But I'll take you to people who can help you. Will you go with me to the police?"

She was still for a moment before nodding, moving so I could walk passed her, following me with her bother in hand a moment later.

"Hey, Mr.," Johannes said after a moment. "Does your radar pick up anyone else who needs saving?"

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