RWBY: A Lord's Tale

Chapter Three: The Stars Unbound

Quin stood just outside the café, the streetlights casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The air was cooler now, brushing against his cheeks... oh hey, that's his breath, neat.

He watched as Kaelen jogged up to a beat-up Jeep Grand Cherokee, the paint scuffed near the wheel well, the bumper slightly crooked- battle scars from years of off roading. The passenger door swung open with a creak as Kaelen climbed in, earbuds already in place.

Through the rolled-down window, Quin could hear Arctic Monkeys... he wasn't surprised, his friend did share a music taste with his father after all. Kaelen didn't say anything, just a thoughtless wave with two fingers before the car rolled off, tail lights smearing red.

And just like that, Quin was alone. Again.

Not like he was complaining, he liked being alone- didn't need to explain how talking to a plushie was entirely normal and in no way insane.

And so, the night pressed in gently, not cold, but cool enough to make Quin wish he hadn't left his jacket half-zipped. He lingered a moment, one hand shoved deep in his pocket, the other clutching his oh-so-beloved snacks.

Mordred peeked out of the top of his backpack, one felt eye turned toward the street. He glanced back at her with a crooked smile.

"Yeah, yeah. You didn't remind me," he murmured. "Could've left you back there, y'know."

She didn't answer, obviously… now that would be insane.

With a sigh, Quin turned on his heel and started walking toward the pickup spot- his parents didn't like driving through the café's narrow lot, said it stressed them out. His phone buzzed once in his pocket, but he didn't check it. Not yet.

The sidewalk was mostly empty now, just the occasional car passing by, casting momentary golden halos on the road before vanishing again. The quiet was nice. Too nice.

It wasn't long before he arrived at his parents' usual pick up… a gas station.

The gas station was quiet at this hour- just the low buzz of a flickering sign overhead and the hum of an icebox sitting outside those dusty windows. The yellow-orange glow from the lamps above cast everything in a slightly greasy light, the pavement stained and cracked.

Quin made his way to the curb just beside the parking lot, the kind of spot he and his siblings used to sit at during road trips while their parents argued over which exit they'd missed. The concrete was still warm from the day, radiating a low, lazy heat against his jeans as he lowered himself down with a quiet grunt.

He peeled open the bag of chips and wedged it snugly between his legs, creating a makeshift barrier with his thighs like a dragon protecting its hoard.

"Don't even try it," he muttered under his breath to no one in particular- and especially not to the small flock of imaginary birds he'd long decided were out to get him ever since that one incident with a sandwich in 5th grade

He popped a chip into his mouth and leaned back, resting on his palms as the night rolled slow around him. The sky above was darker here- less light pollution, more stars. He let his head tilt up to see them, crunching idly, content to be still for a moment.

No cars. No Kaelen. No noise but the wind and the occasional gust shaking the bushes near the trash bins.

It was peaceful in that strange, temporary kind of way.

He crunched another chip and muttered, "They'd never dare… right? I mean I'm much bigger now."

The rustle of wind through the hedges didn't answer, but he narrowed his eyes at a plastic bag caught on the fence, flapping like a warning+ flag.

"Exactly," he added, as if affirming his own authority. "King of this curb."

A moth dive-bombed the lamplight above, drawing his eyes upward again. The stars were still there- scattered and quiet -but the longer he stared, the smaller he felt beneath them. Like the world was just a little too wide, the night a little too still.

He sighed, flicked a chip crumb off his hoodie, and leaned forward to grab another handful, the rustling bag nestled tightly between his legs.

"You ever think," he said softly, mostly to the chip bag and maybe a little to the sky, "that everything's gonna change, and you won't even notice until it already did?"

A passing car broke the silence, headlights briefly sweeping across the lot before disappearing down the road.

Quin sat there, still and small under the streetlamp glow, and didn't reach for another chip.

"Wow… that was depressing," he said with a chuckle, brushing a crumb off his hoodie and glancing sideways at Mordred, the plushie half-fallen from his bag and dangling by one arm off his shoulder like it had been eavesdropping.

The toy stared back with stitched eyes and a crooked smile, lopsided as ever.

Quin tilted his head at it. "You could've interrupted me, you know?"

Mordred, traitorous as ever, remained silent… not that anyone expected much differently

And then- headlights.

Bright, sudden, and entirely too close.

Quin flinched, his hand flying up to shield his eyes as a familiar engine growled its way into the parking lot. A horn gave a polite little honk, far too chipper for how much it startled him, and his mother's voice followed it up, slightly muffled from behind the windshield.

"Quin! You ready?"

He let out a breath, half-laugh and half-grumble, pushing himself to his feet with a rustle of chip bag and hoodie sleeves.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he muttered, scooping up the plushie and slinging his bag over one shoulder. The car door unlocked with a cheerful chirp, and he made his way over.

The plushie got the entire backseat, flopped sideways like royalty. Quin, on the other hand, claimed the front without hesitation. He may have liked the plushie, sure, might've even saved its threadbare hide from countless snack crumbs and cola spill- but he wasn't about to give up the best seat in the house. Or, well, the car.

"Buckle up," his mom said, adjusting the mirror. "And no crumbs."

"No promises," Quin replied, popping another chip in his mouth as he clicked the belt into place. "It's a long ride. Might not survive without moral support."

"Is that what the plushie's for, or the chips?"

"…Yes."

His mom gave him a side-eye, somewhere between amused and genuinely concerned. "Sometimes, I worry for your mental health."

Me too, Me too.

And then, just like that, the car rolled forward- tail lights flickering in the gas station mirrors, tires humming gently as they pulled back onto the road. The city slid past in quiet pieces: glowing signs, dim alleys, flickering streetlights painting everything in that strange, in-between color of almost-night.

Quin didn't say much after that… and he really didn't need to, he was too busy watching the lights flicker past while scrolling through social media. His thumb flicked lazily over the screen, pausing now and then on memes he wouldn't remember in five minutes. The plushie sat quietly behind him like a silent co-pilot, and the chips, somehow, were all gone by the halfway point. He didn't even remember finishing them.

His mother, on the other hand.

"Soo—how was school?"

He didn't look up. "Fine."

"That's not an answer."

"It's not a bad one either," he muttered, eyes still fixed on his screen. The car's interior was warm, the kind of cozy that made his thoughts slow and his replies slower.

"Uh-huh," his mother said, not buying it for a second. She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel, flicking on the turn signal as they merged onto the highway. The soft hum of the tires against the road filled the silence for a bit, backed by the faint crackle of the radio playing something instrumental. She didn't press further- she never did right away. Quin knew that. It was a warm-up volley… one he never really cared for.

They didn't live too far from town, but far enough that the drive always settled into a lull. Houses gave way to fields and dips in the road where fog sometimes pooled. It was all familiar- too familiar to feel anything other than numb to.

Quin let his head tilt slightly toward the window, the cold glass cooling his temple. His phone slipped down to his lap. The glow of passing streetlights flickered across the dashboard like phantoms, rising and falling in rhythm with the road.

It wasn't too long before they pulled off the highway near the old Sycamore junction, where the road split in four directions like the legs of a spider. The blinker ticked quietly in the cabin as his mother slowed to a stop, eyes scanning the dark stretch ahead. To their right, a pair of headlights in the distance blinked through a dip in the road.

"Look, I just think if you gave school a chance- you'd like it." she said, almost out of nowhere. Her voice was soft, idle- half-thought and half-concern.

He didn't answer… then again, Quin barely heard her.

He glanced up, phone still loose in his hands.

The headlights had grown larger.

Too fast.

Too fast.

Then everything broke.

A wall of metal, shrieking tires.

Light exploded through the windshield.

The sound of glass being punched out of existence.

And weight.

Weight like a freight train .

The semitruck slammed into the passenger side with the full, horrifying finality of something that couldn't be undone. The crunch of impact was not one sound but a hundred… a scream of shearing steel, shattering plastic, bone-snapping physics.

Quin's vision filled with light… then went black.