Difference

'Thoughts'

"Talking"

[ Sytem Prompt ]

————————————————————————————

In Beacon's lecture hall, Professor Port regaled his students with tales of his huntsman days—though "gloated" might have been a more accurate term. His stories, filled with exaggerated feats and self-praise, failed to inspire the admiration he clearly sought. The students, seated in elevated rows of desks, wore expressions ranging from boredom to mild annoyance. Most had long since tuned out, finding discreet ways to pass the time—napping, chatting, or doodling in their notebooks.

Even Pyrrha, ever the diligent student, struggled to stay focused. Weiss, however, remained the sole exception, her pen scratching furiously as she transcribed every word.

"And with a single swing of my axe," Port declared, miming the motion with theatrical flair, "I cleaved the Beowolf clean in two!"

Yang, seated in the third row, shivered in disgust. Port's not-so-subtle glances in her direction—and at the other female students—had been a recurring theme for the past half-hour. "Geez, isn't he a sleazy guy?" she whispered, her voice dripping with revulsion.

"Try to pay attention," Altair murmured, his eyes fixed on his notes. "His delivery might be... questionable, but there's useful information buried in there."

Yang raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

Altair continued, "For example, Beowolves rely on speed and momentum for their attacks, not raw arm strength. That's why he used the environment to limit their movement."

Yang glanced at Port, who was now puffing out his chest like a rooster, and sighed. "Still doesn't make him less creepy."

Altair didn't argue. Port's behavior was hard to defend, but the professor's credentials spoke for themselves. Handpicked by Ozpin, Port was a seasoned huntsman and educator. His stories, while self-serving, were designed to impart lessons—even if his methods left much to be desired.

Perhaps his awkward attempts to "connect" with students were misguided efforts to inspire admiration, to give them a role model to emulate. Or perhaps he was just a man who loved the sound of his own voice. Either way, Altair knew there was value in his lectures—if one could look past the bluster.

' Still creepy nonetheless. '

"...And thus did the mighty Beowolf fall to my indomitable spirit! And I returned to my village with the beast in captivity and my head held high, celebrated as a hero!" Professor Port finished with a dramatic flourish, prompting half-hearted claps from the students. Ruby fidgeted with her scroll under the desk, drawing a sharp glare from Weiss—her disapproving frown only deepening when she caught the glimpse of a weapon schematic on the screen.

Weiss sighed through her nose. While her own leadership situation had stabilized after initial complications (though Altair being a Faunus remained...a consideration), Ruby's appointment as leader continued to baffle her. The girl was objectively the youngest in their entire year—a child playing dress-up amidst warriors.

Her fingers tapped restlessly against her notebook. That Nora had skipped the effort to lift it entirely, though she supposed the others had subdued reactions for their own reasons. Pyrrha remained passive as ever, never challenging despite her prowess. Ren seemed content to play the quiet supporter. And Jaune—

Weiss scoffed quietly. Jaune was a separate issue entirely.

Yet none of them obsessed over weapons like an overgrown child. None of them doodled strategies in the margins of their notes during lectures. None of them directed impossible optimism at every problem.

' Except perhaps Yang, but that was a destructive force all its own.'

Her gaze flicked between Ruby's oblivious smile and Altair's focused note-taking—how he'd underlined key points from Port's ramblings about Grimm weak points. That was leadership. Assessment. Strategy. Not some disruptive, and immature dismissal of lectures from an experienced Huntsman.

A shrill whistle made her jolt. Port waved his hand at the clock.

"Now then, the moral of this story? A true Huntsman must be honorable!" Professor Port's voice boomed, his chest puffing out with pride.

Weiss's pen hovered over her notebook as she nodded in agreement. A leader needed more than skill—they required intelligence, grace, and dignity. Her gaze flicked to Ruby, who was balancing an apple on a book with a pencil held precariously on one finger, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

"A true Huntsman must be dependable!"

Weiss's eye twitched. How could anyone depend on a leader who fell asleep during the first class of the year? She still remembered the way Ruby had snored softly, oblivious to Port's ramblings.

"A true Huntsman must be strategic, well-educated, and wise!"

Ruby, now picking her nose with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, was the antithesis of everything Port preached. Her actions lacked thought, wisdom, or even basic decorum.

"So, who among you believes themselves to be the embodiment of these traits?"

The classroom erupted. Hands shot into the air, some students even standing on their chairs in their eagerness. Weiss remained seated, her notes immaculate, her frustration simmering. Leadership wasn't just about skill. It couldn't be.

So why did it feel like she was the only one who cared about the difference?

"I do, sir!"

"Well, then, let's find out! Step forward, and face your opponent!"

In the corner of the room, a shadow growled, rattling the bars of its cage as it waited for freedom.

'If it was only about skill, then I'll prove that I'm mored skilled than her. '

————————————————————————————

Weiss strode back into the lecture hall, her Myrtenaster gleaming in the light and her battle gear immaculate. Her eyes burned with a mix of frustration and determination—a fire that seemed to demand she prove something, though even she wasn't entirely sure what.

From the sidelines, Ruby's voice rang out above the others. "Go, Weiss! You've got this!" She waved a professionally made flag emblazoned with Weiss's face, her enthusiasm almost tangible. Team RNVL and Team AWBY joined in, though Ruby's cheers were by far the loudest—and the most grating.

Weiss's eye twitched. This was what Altair thought she could learn from? A leader who acted more like a fanatical sports fan than a professional?

Her gaze flicked to Altair, who stood nearby, waving a smaller flag with a soft, encouraging smile. The sight stirred a memory of their conversation the day before.

Yesterday in the Freshman Dormitory Hallway

Weiss huffed as she adjusted her grip on an overstuffed suitcase, the wheels catching on the corridor's uneven tiles. "It's absolutely ludicrous," she muttered, watching Altair maneuver a cart piled high with her luggage. "Naming someone so... juvenile as a leader when there were clearly superior candidates available."

Altair raised an eyebrow. "Are you questioning Ruby's qualifications," he asked, voice measured, "or are you upset you didn't get the position yourself?"

The suitcase handle creaked in Weiss's tightening grip. "Excuse me?" Ice frosted her words, but something flickered behind her eyes - a spark of uncomfortable recognition.

A sigh escaped Altair's lips as the elevator lights blinked above them. "You arrived at Beacon with certain expectations," he observed, leaning against the cart. "When they weren't met, it became easier to scrutinize the person who achieved what you wanted rather than examine why you fell short."

"That's—" Weiss's protest died in her throat. Her shoulders stiffened. "I'm perfectly content with our team's structure. My concern is whether someone so inexperienced can truly bear a leader's responsibilities."

The elevator dinged its arrival, but Altair paused before entering. "She'll succeed," he said finally, "just not in ways you'd expect." As the doors slid open, he added over his shoulder, "Ozpin didn't choose her because she's a this big shot of a prodigy—he chose her because of what she is at her core. That's something worth learning from, don't you think?"

Weiss stood frozen in the hallway, her reflection staring back from the polished elevator doors - a girl clutching baggage both literal and metaphorical.

Weiss had scoffed at the time, dismissing the idea. But now, as she stood in the lecture hall, his words echoed in her mind.

Back in the present, Weiss tightened her grip on Myrtenaster. ' Fine, ' she thought, steeling herself. ' I'll prove that she's unbefitting of her position—not just to Altair, but to everyone.'

The cage in the corner rattled ominously, its shadowy occupant growling in anticipation. Weiss turned to face it, her expression hardening.

"Let's see what you've got," she muttered under her breath, ready to prove her worth.

————————————————————————————————

A/N: Haven't been keeping the daily updates huh.