A Path To Omniscience

"I have to admit, this isn't at all what I imagined your room would look like," Whitley remarked, watching as Asher stepped out of his walk-in closet. The automatic lights flicked off behind him, and he was now dressed in his pajamas.

"Oh? And what were you expecting?" Asher asked, glancing over with a curious expression.

"Hmm, not sure. Maybe shelves lined with books and gadgets everywhere. It's... surprisingly simple," Whitley replied as he settled onto the couch in the sunken seating area near the fireplace.

"Sorry to disappoint," Asher said with a faint smirk.

"I keep all my 'gadgetry' in my workshop. As for books, I had a fair number here at one point, but once I finished with them, I moved them to the library." He shifted his gaze to Weiss, who seemed more at ease now that Asher had put on a shirt. However, her focus had wandered to one of the beanbags near his bed.

She was staring at it with an almost analytical look.

"Is something wrong, Weiss?" Asher asked, his tone curious. She snapped out of her thoughts and gestured toward the beanbag.

"I was just wondering... what is this? Some kind of pet toy?" Asher blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"No, it's a beanbag chair." The response drew Whitley's attention. He turned on the couch to peer at the beanbag, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild amusement.

"That's a chair? I thought it was just a large decorative pillow," Whitley admitted.

Weiss, meanwhile, approached the beanbag cautiously. After a moment of hesitation, she lowered herself onto it. The chair sank under her weight, molding around her body. She let out a startled yelp.

"What the- this is... odd," she muttered, squirming slightly as she tried to find a more stable position. Her usual dress and heels made the task even more challenging.

Asher watched her struggle for a moment before chiming in, "They're not really for sitting upright. They're meant for relaxing. Just stop moving and let it support you."

Weiss shot him a skeptical glance but gradually stopped fidgeting. She leaned back, letting herself sink into the chair. This time, as it molded to her shape, she relaxed. A quiet, satisfied sigh escaped her.

"Oh... this is much more comfortable than it looks." Whitley remained unconvinced.

"I'll take your word for it. Sinking into a chair isn't exactly appealing to me. If I want comfort, I'd much prefer a proper massage chair." Weiss rolled her eyes but said nothing. Asher glanced between them, chuckling softly.

"I keep forgetting how sheltered you two are. Makes me wonder if this sleepover was more for your sake than mine." Both Weiss and Whitley turned to him at that, Weiss narrowing her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asher simply shook his head, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips.

"Nothing. Anyway, this is a sleepover, and it's only a matter of time before my mother stops by to check on us. If I were you, I'd go get changed. One of you can use the closet, and the other can take the bathroom."

"Mrs. Frostvale did tell us to bring our night clothes, but I still don't quite get it. What are you supposed to do at sleepovers?" Whitley asked, as Weiss rose from the beanbag chair and straightened her dress. She nodded slightly, echoing Whitley's question.

"If I'm being honest, I don't really know either. All the sleepovers I went to weren't all that exciting..." Whitley admitted. Hearing their uncertainty, Asher shrugged, tilting his head as if to say it wasn't that big of a deal.

"There's no grand purpose to a sleepover. They're just... fun. No schedules, no rules, and no need to act or dress a certain way. We can do whatever we want. Well, as long as we don't break anything. My parents might have a problem with that. But hey, as long as Weiss doesn't challenge me to any duels, I think we'll be fine." Whitley stifled a laugh, covering his mouth as his shoulders shook with amusement.

Weiss, on the other hand, frowned, crossing her arms in mild annoyance.

"Well, if I'd known this sleepover was going to be you two ganging up to tease me, I would've stayed home. At least then I'd only have to deal with Whitley." Before anyone could respond, two maids entered the room, carrying Weiss and Whitley's luggage from the car. Without much fuss, the siblings retrieved their clothes.

Whitley headed to the closet, while Weiss took the bathroom.

Whitley was the first to emerge, now dressed in pajamas that bore a striking resemblance to Asher's but with an added flair of extravagance. His initials were neatly embroidered onto the chest of the shirt, a detail that felt quintessentially "Schnee."

He paused in the doorway, catching sight of Asher lounging casually in bed, propped up against the headboard. A donut sat in his hand, and Asher was halfway through eating it, looking as though he didn't have a care in the world.

"You're eating that now?" Whitley asked, his tone bordering on disbelief.

"Yeah. Why not?" Asher replied, taking another bite.

"It's so late. Won't that ruin your diet?" Whitley questioned, a mix of curiosity and exasperation in his voice.

Asher gave him a puzzled look.

"Diet? I don't have a diet."

"You don't?" Whitley echoed, clearly surprised.

"Nope," Asher confirmed, taking another bite of the donut.

"But it sounds like you two do. Am I right?"

"Of course we do. We're Schnees," Whitley stated matter-of-factly as if reciting a well-rehearsed line.

"Our appearance reflects on the family's reputation. We have a strict list of what we're allowed to eat and when." As Whitley spoke, it became clear that his words weren't his own. The cadence of his voice, the formality of the phrasing—it was all too polished, too deliberate, like a mantra drilled into him over time.

That's just the way it was for children of Atlas's elite families. The boundaries between their personal beliefs and the expectations forced upon them blurred until their very identity became a reflection of their family's values.

But I don't need the Schnee family's values. Jacques warped those values long ago. Under his leadership, both the family and the company are destined to crumble. But Weiss and Whitley... If I can help them become more adaptable and more independent, they might stand a chance when their father isn't around.

"Why don't you pick something out?" Asher suggested, gesturing toward the three serving carts laden with snacks and treats.

"Hmm?" Whitley gave him a skeptical look.

"I just told you I can't. A quarter of that stuff I'm not allowed to eat except on Mondays, and the rest... I'm pretty sure it's off-limits entirely." Asher shrugged, his tone light and casual.

"Well, I was just thinking—it's your first sleepover. It'd be a shame if you didn't get to enjoy the full experience. Especially after all the effort my mother went through to set this up for us." Whitley narrowed his eyes, raising a brow as he sat at the edge of the bed.

"Are you trying to manipulate me into doing something, Asher? I didn't take you for the type."

With an easy smile, Asher shook his head.

"Manipulate? Of course not. We're friends, remember? I'm just saying, I'm sure my mother would love to see you and Weiss actually enjoying yourselves. And if you just happen to forget about your diet in the process, well..." He let his words hang in the air with a small shrug.

"It's not like my mother or I speak with your father very often." For a moment, Whitley simply stared at Asher, his expression unreadable.

Then his gaze shifted to the carts before he muttered, "Hospitality, huh?"

"Exactly," Asher replied with a grin.

A while later, the sound of the bathroom door opening echoed through the room. Weiss stepped out, having had to take her time due to the complexity of her dress—always a challenge to get on and off. In contrast, what she had changed into was much simpler: a deep blue nightgown that reached just past her knees.

She paused, tugging lightly at the hem of the gown, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing her mind.

Maybe I should've picked something longer... I mean, Asher doesn't seem like the type, but Winter always warned me about-

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she looked toward the bed. Both Asher and Whitley were sitting cross-legged on it, engrossed in conversation. Asher's scroll was extended into tablet mode, the display showing what appeared to be a blueprint. Some of the bowls on the carts had been moved to the bed, and to her surprise, Whitley was casually helping himself to the snacks.

"So, does that mean refined dust works better regardless of the type of machine it's used in?" Whitley asked, pointing at a specific section of the blueprint.

"Powdered dust doesn't take up nearly as much space when refined, right?" Asher shook his head slightly.

"Not necessarily. While it's true that powdered dust can save space—especially if it's compressed—you have to consider how easily it can leak, even from pressure-sealed vials. For small quantities, it's manageable. But for anything larger..." Whitley nodded thoughtfully, popping a chocolate and peanut candy into his mouth.

"I see. So you'd need a custom locking mechanism to prevent leakage from the power supply. At that point, the space saved wouldn't be worth the trade-off."

"Exactly," Asher confirmed, leaning back slightly.

"Hmm, in that case, what about..." Whitley trailed off, his attention fixed on the scroll as he and Asher continued their discussion, oblivious to Weiss's presence. It wasn't until Weiss stepped closer to the bed and spoke up that they finally looked up from the screen.

"Whitley, what are you doing? If Father finds out you're eating things outside of the schedule, he'll definitely punish you," she warned, her tone carrying an edge of urgency that matched the concern on her face.

Whitley, however, met her gaze with an uncharacteristically calm expression.

"Relax, Weiss. I'm still watching what I eat. I'll work all of this off before our next health checkup. Besides, do you plan on telling him?" The simplicity of the question caught Weiss off guard.

Whitley had always been their father's mirror image, copying his actions, speech, and mannerisms with near-perfect precision. Aside from their early childhood—back before their family fractured—she couldn't recall a single moment when Whitley had openly defied their father.

"I... I mean, no, but still," Weiss stammered, her voice dropping to a quieter pitch.

"Then there's no problem, is there?" Whitley said smoothly.

"Father doesn't need to know something so trivial. And anyway, this is a sleepover. It would be rude not to participate just because of rules that don't even apply here." Weiss stared at him, momentarily speechless. Turning to Asher for guidance, she found him offering a casual shrug.

"Do you want to join us?" He asked, his tone inviting.

For a moment, Weiss hesitated. She looked between Asher and Whitley, realizing that neither of them seemed particularly troubled. Whitley had a point—if no one said anything, their father would never find out. And truthfully, what harm was there in a small act of rebellion?

Steeling herself, Weiss climbed onto the bed and settled between the two. Her movements were precise, almost overly cautious, and her posture remained rigid as she sat on her knees with her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"So," she began, her voice a touch more composed, "what were you two talking about while I was in the bathroom?"

"He was showing me blueprints for a few designs he's working on," Whitley explained. "I asked why the design didn't use refined dust instead of dust crystals."

Weiss's gaze dropped to Asher's scroll, her eyes scanning the blueprints and the detailed notes. The intricate lines and annotations stirred her curiosity.

"Dust refined into powder is extremely fine. Designing a chamber that could safely contain powdered dust under rough conditions would require-"

"Yes, yes, we already covered all that; no need to repeat it," Whitley said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Fine, but did you consider using liquidized refined dust instead?" Weiss proposed.

"It's much easier to design a chamber for and just as flexible as powdered dust."

That gave Whitley pause. He tapped his chin thoughtfully before replying, "I suppose that's plausible. But then you'd have to worry about the..."

Their conversation carried on, time slipping by unnoticed. What started as a focused discussion on dust and Asher's projects gradually evolved into a casual, theme-less exchange.

The mood wasn't the only thing that changed. While Whitley had relaxed fairly quickly, Weiss took a bit longer. Eventually, though, she shifted from sitting stiffly on her knees to leaning on her side. Even her cautious approach to the snacks eased, her worries and ingrained habits fading into the background as she started to reach for treats.

"There's no way you actually believe a team from Atlas won't reach the finals of the Vytal Tournament," Whitley said, his tone confident.

"Atlas has the highest win rate of any kingdom, by far. Atlas Academy is leagues ahead of the competition."

"How would you even know that? You don't pay attention to Huntsmen," Weiss countered, raising a brow. Whitley wagged a finger at her smugly.

"Just because I don't think they're entirely necessary doesn't mean I don't follow them. There's a lot of profit to be made during the Vytal Festival if you know what you're looking for," he said, his tone sharpening as he mentioned profit, a glint of calculation in his eye.

"That's exactly why focusing on Beacon's teams makes the most sense," Weiss argued. "

I've seen the records myself. While their win rate still lags behind Atlas, they've been improving steadily for years. It's only a matter of time before they surpass Atlas teams." Whitley glanced at Asher, who gave Weiss a sly look.

"Aren't you planning to go to Beacon? That wouldn't make you biased, would it?"

"Exactly," Whitley chimed in, smirking in agreement.

"Looking favorably on something isn't the same as being biased," Weiss shot back at them both.

"Besides, if I were biased, then so are you—your leaning toward Atlas proves it."

"Biases don't rely on logical reasoning," Asher replied.

"Atlas Academy has unmatched resources, superior training facilities, and Huntsmen who are integrated into the military. That alone makes them more efficient than any other academy." Weiss opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden knock at Asher's door interrupted her. All three of them froze for a moment, exchanging quick glances.

The door creaked open slightly, but no one entered. Instead, Nillia poked her head inside, her warm smile lighting up her face as she spotted the trio perched on the bed mid-discussion.

"Hey, you three, how's it going in here?" Nillia asked.

"I'd say it's going pretty well," Asher replied. The Schnee siblings nodded in agreement, greeting her politely.

"Hello, Mrs. Frostvale. It's been surprisingly relaxing—even if I've had to endure a few objectively bad opinions," Whitley added, earning a dramatic eye-roll from Weiss.

"Please, ignore him. This has been, by far, the most fun I've had at a sleepover," Weiss said. Despite her tone, both siblings had genuine smiles on their faces, something Nillia immediately noticed.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I was a little worried my idea of a sleepover might be outdated for you kids—especially when it came to the movie options," Nillia said.

"Oh, actually, we haven't had the chance to watch a movie yet," Asher admitted.

"We've been stuck in a debate for a while now." Nillia blinked in mild surprise but quickly recovered.

"Oh, well, that's fine! As long as you're all having fun. I just came to let you know your father's home, and we'll be in our room if any of you need anything, alright?"

Asher nodded.

"Got it."

"Alright then. I'll leave you three to your... debates." She gave them a warm smile before closing the door, leaving the room feeling cozy and calm once again.

"You're really lucky, Asher. Your mother is wonderful," Weiss commented, a touch of envy sneaking into her voice.

"Better than ours, that's for sure," Whitley muttered under his breath. The remark made Weiss whip her head toward him, her frown sharp.

"Whitley!" Her tone was both scolding and restrained, as though unsure whether to fully chastise him. Whitley raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Right, right." An awkward silence settled over the room before Asher broke it with a suggestion.

"So, you two interested in seeing what movies my mom left for us? Judging by what she said, I'm expecting them to be a bit... outdated." Weiss seemed momentarily surprised by the shift in the topic but quickly recovered.

"Wait, I wasn't done explaining why Vale is going to win the next Vytal Tournament."

"Oh, I think that debate's run its course, dear sister," Whitley interjected smoothly.

"We'll just have to wait and see who's right during the tournament itself." Weiss's lips curled into a sly grin.

"So, you're saying it's a bet?" Whitley narrowed his eyes at her, his own smirk forming.

"I suppose so. What about you, Asher? Care to place a wager?" Asher chuckled, shaking his head.

"Tempting, but no thanks. I'm trying to save money, not bet it away against two people born into the richest family in Atlas." The joke caused both Weiss and Whitley to start laughing to themselves just barely stifling it.

After the laughter subsided and the bet was finalized, Asher switched off the lights and grabbed the remote from his desk. He turned on the TV, scrolling through the selection of movies his mother had left for them. Just as he expected, they were older films, ones she must have loved before meeting his father.

Surprisingly, they managed to pick a movie quickly: Grimm-nado. Both Weiss and Whitley were intrigued by it. They had seen plenty of movies before, but mostly because their family was always invited to premieres. Those films, however, were often abstract and overly symbolic, rarely something they actually found enjoyable.

So how could they not be curious about a disaster film featuring a freak storm that created a tornado filled with Grimm? Asher, having no strong opinion, went along with their choice, and the decision was made.

As the movie started, the three of them settled into the bed, finding comfortable spots among the blankets and pillows. It didn't take long for Weiss and Whitley to realize they had swung to the opposite extreme of their usual cinematic experiences.

Grimm-nado was absurd, chaotic, and riddled with plot holes, and the siblings spent the first half of the movie gleefully tearing it apart.

Their critiques, delivered between chuckles, seemed more entertaining than the movie itself. But as the hours grew later, their energy waned. The sharp jabs at the film's flaws softened, replaced by the quiet sound of slow, steady breaths as sleep overtook them.

Weiss wasn't sure how long she had been asleep. A gentle but chilly breeze brushing against her skin stirred her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times as she adjusted to the faint light filtering through the windows and skylight above. For a brief, disorienting moment, she felt confused. This wasn't her room—or her bed.

Then it clicked.

Oh, right. The sleepover. I'm in Asher's room.

As she slowly sat up, her thoughts paused when she felt the weight of an arm draped across her. Glancing down, she saw Whitley asleep beside her. For a moment, she froze, simply staring at him. The soft light of the moon revealed a side of her brother she hadn't seen in years. He was curled up, looking small and defenseless, so different from the composed, distant figure she was used to.

A faint, almost painful feeling tugged at her chest.

When was the last time we were this close?

She couldn't remember. Not since their mother had withdrawn, leaving the family even more fractured than it had been. Lately, though, things had started to shift. Asher's presence in their lives seemed to have brought some of their old connection back. That weight in her heart turned bittersweet—melancholy, but also hope.

Carefully, Weiss slid Whitley's arm off her and reached for the covers. Gently, she tucked him in, doing her best not to wake him. As she stood, a small, unconscious smile formed on her lips. For just a moment, everything felt a little lighter.

It was only then she noticed Asher wasn't in the bed—or the room. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered slightly, remembering the chill that had woken her. Her gaze shifted to the glass door leading to the balcony, where she caught sight of him.

Asher.

Asher stood at the balcony railing, still in his pajamas, both hands resting on the cool stone. His back was to the glass doors and, by extension, Weiss. She found her gaze fixed on him—the way his short hair moved slightly in the night breeze, the way he seemed so still, almost statue-like as if lost in another world.

Eventually, she stepped forward, quietly opening the glass door and slipping outside. The soft sound caught Asher's attention, and he turned to look at her, his dark eyes meeting hers. They seemed as piercingly void as the cloudy night sky above.

"Hey, Weiss," he said softly.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

She shook her head, remaining where she stood.

"No, I just... felt a breeze."

"I see." Asher turned back to the view of Atlas City below, his voice low and calm.

"Feel free to join me if you want. I just needed to think for a bit. Couldn't really sleep." The view was breathtaking. From their vantage point, the city's lights stretched out like a sea of stars, shimmering against the backdrop of the sky. It looked almost unreal, a dreamlike city floating among the clouds.

Weiss hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to the railing. Without her heels, she was shorter than usual and had to tilt her head slightly to look up at him.

"Do you mind if I ask what's on your mind? It wasn't that movie, was it? Because that was horrifying." Her joke earned a small smile from Asher and a light chuckle that quickly faded into the night air.

"No, nothing as horrifying as that." He paused, his eyes steady as he continued.

"I was just visualizing the future. It's something I do to keep my head on straight when I start having doubts."

"Doubts?" Weiss asked, her tone shifting to concern.

"Doubts about what?" Asher glanced at her for a moment before taking a deep breath. Her light blue eyes met his.

"If I remember right, you told me you wanted to become a huntress to prove yourself. To show everyone that being a Schnee, even the heiress, doesn't mean you're just a replica of your father." Weiss wasn't surprised he brought it up. They had spent a lot of time together, talking about everything from casual topics to personal dreams and fears.

At some point, she had confided in him her reasons for becoming a huntress.

"That's right," she confirmed quietly.

"Then let me ask you something." Asher's tone softened, but his words carried a weight that made Weiss pause.

"If one day, your father changed—if he became more caring and loving, not just to you and Whitley but to your mother as well—if he turned into the kind of father you always imagined, but his business practices stayed the same... would you still want to leave and become a huntress?" The question took her off guard. Silence settled between them as Weiss tried to imagine such a scenario.

If Father... suddenly changed?

The thought was almost impossible to picture. Her father had always been who he was now—distant, controlling, and calculating. Even if he pretended otherwise at times, the truth had always been there, just beneath the surface.

"I... I think I would still become a huntress," she said finally, her voice steady but thoughtful.

"It's not just about me. I'm doing this for the legacy of my family's name—and for the people who suffer because of it." Asher nodded slowly, a hum of understanding escaping his lips.

"Yeah, I suspected as much. I feel the same way." Weiss tilted her head slightly, surprised at his response.

"My life has been improving," Asher continued.

"More than I ever thought it would. My relationship with my parents is better, my projects are progressing, and meeting you and Whitley... well, everything's been looking up. It makes me want to slow down and enjoy it. But..."

His gaze turned distant as he added, "Every step forward gets harder because I know that, at some point, the progress will stop. A lot of what's been getting better will start to fall apart again if I keep going far enough. It's... it's hard not to doubt myself sometimes."

Weiss listened silently, her brows furrowing as she considered his words. She didn't fully understand what he was referring to, but she knew Asher had plans—big ones. He had never shared the details with her or Whitley, but whatever those plans were, they clearly weighed heavily on him.

She clenched her hands briefly before taking a slow, hesitant breath. Then, to Asher's surprise, she placed one of her hands gently over his. The warmth of her touch broke through his thoughts, drawing his gaze to her.

"Asher, you know... I envied you," Weiss began, her voice quiet but steady.

"Actually, I still do. You've always seemed so certain. You have a goal, and you work toward it as if you know—truly know—it'll be worth it in the end. We live in the same world, born into expectations larger than ourselves, yet you've managed to be freer than I am. I think... even Whitley's started to notice that." Her hand, still resting on Asher's, tightened slightly as she continued.

"I think that's why I've wanted to get closer to you. To be your friend. Not just because my father told me to, but because, in some way, I want to be like you. And honestly, some part of me wanted to understand the real you. It's always felt like there's something you're hiding when you speak." She smiled faintly at her own admission, her tone softening.

"But hearing that even you have doubts, just like I do... it makes me feel more certain than ever that becoming a huntress is the right path for me." Weiss turned to face Asher directly, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"So, even if I don't know what your goal is or what you'll have to do to reach it, I believe in it anyhow. I want you to know that, no matter how hard it gets, no matter if things turn bad and people abandon you, I'll be on your side." Her face flushed lightly as she realized the weight of her own words, but she pressed on.

"Whatever it is you're trying to do... I can't imagine it being something you can't handle as long as you devote your all to it." By the end, they were face-to-face, Weiss staring up at Asher as he slowly closed his eyes.

While his eyes were closed, she felt his hand shift beneath hers, palm up, gently holding her hand in return.

"Yeah..." He said softly.

"I suppose you're right. Thank you, Weiss." When his eyes opened again, Weiss found herself caught in their gaze. Those deep, dark eyes, were so bottomless they felt as if they could swallow her whole. Yet now, they seemed even darker, drawing her in more than ever.

Her gaze flickered to the hand he was holding. Her heartbeat quickened, pounding in her chest like a drum. The chilly night air that had cut through her earlier was forgotten; her entire body felt warm as if the heat had risen from nowhere.

"Can I ask you something?" Asher's voice broke the silence, low and measured. Weiss nodded slowly, her voice almost trembling.

"What is it?"

"Do you like me?" The question sent a jolt through her, her heart seeming to stop before pounding even harder. Her grip on his hand tightened instinctively, her eyes wide. Words caught in her throat as her lips trembled, uncertainty swirling in her mind.

Should she deny it? Say she's not sure? A thousand thoughts collided in her head, chaotic and overwhelming. Yet, from that storm, one response rose to the surface.

"Yes," she whispered.

Time seemed to slow. The word hung in the air, her admission irrevocable. Asher's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. Weiss couldn't tell what he was thinking, and the uncertainty only made her chest tighten further.

"In that case..." His voice dropped, soft and deliberate, as his free hand rose slowly, brushing across her cheek. His touch was gentle, his fingers warm against her skin. The contact sent a shiver down her spine, and for a moment, she felt as though she couldn't move.

But she didn't pull away. Instead, Weiss found herself leaning into the moment. Her breaths grew shallow, her gaze locked with Asher's as he leaned closer.

The space between them disappeared, their lips brushing in a tentative, delicate touch before closing the last bit of distance.