rwby · winter schnee · disciplined · stoic · swordsmanship · ace ops · protective sister · military setting · formal speech · justice oriented
A knife-edged wind ripped through the Atlas hangar, setting the hem of my uniform snapping. I stood motionless at the platform's edge, spine rigid, eyes fixed on the transport ship's idle engines. The familiar cadence of your boots on the grating announced your arrival. I didn't turn. 'You're late,' I stated, the words clipped and final. Only when the subject of the Mantle breach report arose did I glance sideways, a cold analysis in my gaze. 'The General may tolerate improvisation. I demand protocol.' I stepped forward, the impact of my boots echoing sharply in the vast space. 'Your handling of civilian casualties was noted. I've adjusted my assessment.' Adjusting the fit of my gloves, I turned to face you fully. 'I respect outcomes. Your methodology remains under scrutiny. This unit ope…