RWBY: LUCID

The rest of the school day passed in a comfortable blur.

English was calm—nothing too dramatic. The class had moved on to modern poetry, which meant fewer thees and thous, and instead, more confusing analogies about rain being a metaphor for depression. Jaune's contribution of "emotional precipitation" didn't impress the teacher much but Ruby, genius that she was, was a natural, effortlessly dissecting stanzas while doodling grim reapers with flower crowns in the margins of her notebook.

Art was even more laid-back. They were tasked with painting something from memory. Jaune tried to paint his sword, Crocea Mors but it ended up looking like a confused rectangle with anxiety issues. Ruby said it had "emotional texture," which was nice of her, but even she had to admit it looked closer to a breadstick than a sword.

Next time, he was just going to stick to scenery instead.

By the end of the period, the two were in good spirits. They walked out of Building D together, chatting about their next weekend plans and whether soup counted as a beverage. Jaune argued for it, and Ruby, against. In the end they simply settled for agreeing to disagreeing.

As they neared the school courtyard, Ren and Nora were already waiting near the trees with their bags slung over their shoulders. Nora waved so hard her arm blurred and seemed to generate a small wind.

"There you guys are!" she called. "You missed Ren's mini-philosophy rant. It was about socks."

"It was about tea, not socks," Ren insisted with the quiet frustration of a man used to being misquoted.

Jaune blinked. "Socks?"

"It's a whole thing," Red explained. "Our class has been arguing about the ship of Theseus but with laundry. I went on a tangent about tea leaves."

"...Right."

The four of them gathered under the fading afternoon light. Jaune asked Ruby where Yang was, and she explained that Yang was hanging out with her other school friends. Jaune nodded in understanding. Yang was a social butterfly and flitted about in many different groups. It was simply her personal charm, after all.

The evening felt nice, a soft breeze amidst a hot sun that was just starting to cool their bodies. The shadows stretched languidly long across the courtyard, giving the ground some darker quality.

"Well," Ren said after a moment, glancing at his phone. "Club time."

"Oh yeah!" Nora perked up. "Yeah, we got to go Rubes!"

Jaune tilted his head. "Already huh? Yeah, I suppose I should probably head to the sword arts club too."

"Yep. Good call. See you tomorrow?" Ren offered.

"You bet." Jaune smiled and waved.

"Bye Jaune" Ruby chimed in. "We should hang out in Vale soon too."

Jaune gave a thumbs up. "Sounds good. Text me later."

After a round of goodbyes, Jaune waved them off as they walked toward the administration wing.

He watched them disappear around the corner, chatting and laughing.

Then he turned and began his own quiet walk… to Building A, Room 319.

The Occult Research Society.

Even saying it in his head sounded ominous. The sun filtered through the high windows as he passed along the main corridor, his footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. Occasionally, a janitor or student passed him, but otherwise the hallway was growing steadily emptier. Most clubs met in different wings or on the ground floor, but Room 319 was high up—third floor, back end, a quiet corner of the building where even the lights flickered suspiciously often. Which didn't make sense, since beacon always kept their facilities at a very high standard.

Jaune glanced up at the sign on the clubroom door:

Room 319 – Occult Research Club. KEEP OUT – Only the Awakened May Enter.

He stopped.

For a moment, he just stared at the peeling letters and glitter, then sighed in disappointment. Was this really the best bet for information? Jaune had already did some online research on the dream realm but nothing really came up from his searches. It also didn't help that he didn't know what to properly search for.

Whatever organizations that existed in that world, were very quiet about the dream's existence.

Which meant that this group was potentially his only hope to gain more of an idea of what that realm was.

But they were just super weird.

'They're just students,' he told himself. 'Normal people. You caught them doing something weird last week, sure, but that was probably just initiation stuff or some dumb roleplay. They're not actually going to be—'

He reached for the doorknob and pushed it open.

That thought of his, jumped out the window and immediately committed suicide. Because the second the door cracked open, Jaune was hit with an wall of incense smoke and soft chanting.

What he saw next would be burned into his brain until the heat death of the universe.

The lights were off except for a few eerily flickering candles arranged in a circle. The club members—all of them, were dressed in long black robes with hoods drawn. They moved in a slow, synchronized dance around a central pole… where a fellow student (Jaune was pretty sure his name was Maurice, from the last time he came here) was tied up with ropes like he was the world's most unlucky maypole.

His face looked as if he was enjoying it...

There were weird sigils drawn on the floor in chalk and someone was waving what looked like a... plastic version of a taxidermied crow's foot on a stick.

The chanting grew louder:

"Aves occultae, vincula somniorum, revelate!"

Maurice's eyes met Jaune's. He froze, then looked almost comically desperate.

Then, with a heroic burst of jaw strength, he spat out the gag that had been shoved in his mouth.

"I-It's not what it looks like," he croaked hoarsely. The other members stopped in response to Maurice's words then turned to see Jaune at the door.

He recognized the club president from before. She stared at him in confusion, then, her expression morphed into a mix of shock, embarrassment and something which looked like remorseful sheepishness.

Jaune nodded quietly at the scene, and wordlessly closed the door.

He turned on his heel. He would walk away. That would be the plan. Pretend it never happened. That was survival instinct 101.

He made it three steps before a voice screamed, "WAIT!"

The door flung open again, and a blur of black robes launched at him.

The club president, short, sharp-eyed, and perpetually dramatic—latched onto his arm like a koala clinging to a bamboo pole.

"It's not what it looks like!" she gasped.

Jaune looked at her in disgust. Then at the door. Then back at her. He tried to shake her off his arm, like she was a piece of dog muck. "You're all dressed like Satan's improv group! Leave me alone!"

She winced but then released his arm only to glamp onto his leg. "No! Wait! Okay, fair, but it's not a sacrifice if the person volunteers!"

"I—what? No! I don't care. You're not fooling me this time!" Jaune screamed, still trying to shake her off.

"Maurice asked to be part of the 'Binding of Thoughtform' experiment! We're trying to summon a minor archetype entity from the Jungian subconscious."

"I-Jungi-what? Whatever I don't care! You tied him to a pole!"

"For ritual accuracy! It's symbolic!"

"You gagged him!"

"It was for the vibes!"

"Why is there a pole in the middle of the room?!"

"It was on sale! From the dance club! Look, you're focusing on the wrong things—!"

"Am I? Am I really?!"

They stared at each other in silence, Jaune's expression somewhere between exasperation annoyance.

Then Maurice's voice rang out faintly from inside the room. "Honestly, I'm kinda into it."

Jaune twitched.

The president cleared her throat. "Wait! I promise, we're not evil! Please don't report us to the student council."

"Why would I report you?" Jaune asked, deadpan, still futilely trying to shake her off his leg. "I'd have to explain this!"

"Then… will you join us? We saved a robe for you!"

"I'm not joining and I'm definitely not putting on a robe."

"It's even got your name stitched on the sleeve…"

"I am absolutely not—wait, how do you even know my name?!"

"...We might've checked the attendance list. You're very punctual!"

Jaune sighed. Deeply. From his soul.

He stared up at the ceiling, as if seeking divine intervention, then down at the pleading president still attached to his leg like a barnacle.

"Well," he said, "I was planning to have a normal week. But I guess that ship has sailed, now.

"So… is that a yes?"

Jaune paused.

"No. But I have some information that I want you guys to help me find. Its about the occult. Something right up your alley."

"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so!? Hehehe--" She let go of his leg and slowly dragged him back into the room pulling his arm with a disgusting laugh.

"That's not comforting."

But he let her pull him back toward the room.