Author's Note:
As a fan of the internet web series RWBY from Roosterteeth.com, I was deeply saddened by the unexpected passing of it's creator Monty Oum back in 2015. A few days after I learned of his passing I felt the need to honor his memory in the only way I could think of doing: I wrote. After writing this short, I had placed it aside with my others and forgot about it until this year when I was going through some of my old files. After finding I decided to share it with anyone who is interested in reading it. If you have never seen RWBY, you may not quite understand much of the this short's content. If you are interested in learning more about RWBY, visit www.roosterteeth.com. With that said, I hope you enjoy it.
The day was pleasant as it often was; not too hot, not too cold. Though not cloudless, the sky was breathtaking. The sun shone down with its warming touch as a breeze carried the slightest hint to freshly cut grass along with a pleasant hint of jasmine. Next to him was his wife, whose beauty trumped the miraculous day. The two had said nothing since they sat down on the park bench, but the silence was not overbearing. Rather it was pleasant. They have long since learned to communicate with nothing more than glances, smiles, and the simplest of touches. Though no words were shared, they spoke volumes to one another.
He would have been working long into the early morning hours if not for his wife's request. She wanted to spend some time with just him as a way to ease his otherwise restless mind. Thoughts, dreams, hopes would all comingle into one voice and as a result they would pull his mind in many directions. While bombarded with a myriad of ideas, he had long since learned how to narrow his focus and take on each task; one thing at a time. It was draining, at times exhausting, but it was what he loved.
While a creative man, he was humble. He often said that his success was not his alone but with the help and support of those he worked with; those who gave him the chance to showcase his talents. It took little to convince them of his skill and from that point on, his entire life had changed. Though he was supported by the friends and family that he loved so much, he also could not forget his fans. They provided him some of the best feedback for his creations and this praise motivated him to keep pushing to make more.
Nestled in their silent cocoon, he watched the park, but he didn't see the blue jays that soared overhead or the woman being led by a pack of dogs, both large and small, he saw something else. Though far from his workstation at the office, his mind couldn't silence the creative voices that constantly whispered to him. Around him the world shifted and changed from the familiar landscape to a world that once only existed within the confines of his imagination. A murder of Nevermores soared high overhead, searching for their next meal. A pack of Beowolves were bound to an unlikely master, a Fauness adorned in all black with a bow atop her head, her long black hair flowing as the wind ran its fingers through it. The implacable expression on her face betrayed no emotions, but he could see the slightest hint of a smile creep upwards upon her face.
Over on the soccer field, there was a nest of Basilsks both large and small. Though wild creatures, the motherly instinct ordered it to protect its children from those that wished it harm. The mother struggled against its baser nature to attack those that came near, or to venture out for prey, all the while its massive body was coiled around its young, keeping them safe. It was almost pleasant if her viciousness wasn't so well known. If not for her children, the beast would wreak utter havoc.
Over by the small pond where ducks and geese usually played were the Boarbartusks, drinking and relaxing. Like him they were enjoying their day, the need for mayhem gone, much like the other creatures around them. Today was a day of rest, a vacation, and that meant fighting one's natural instinct and just letting life run its course.
Eyes drifting from the pond, he found himself watching the swings. Though normally reserved for children, they were taken by growing adults; of course they were very young at heart. Jaune pumped his legs feverishly as the sun glinted off the finely polished chest plate, his blonde locks catching the wind. Ruby could only laugh as she, and a round Corgi resting on her lap, swung higher and higher leaving Jaune lagging behind. Resting against the legs of the very active playset was Ruby's Crescent Rose, collapsed into its tote-able form.
Over by the Merry-Go-Round, a mischievous Yang whispered to the normally proper Weiss, both wondering just how Blake managed to not only tame an entire pack of Beowolves, but also put leashes on them. It was almost laughable at how peaceful the normally vicious creatures were. Yang and Weiss called out to Blake who said nothing, both assuming that either she was ignoring them or just unable to hear. Though they could not see, he knew of the smile that continued to stretch across Blake's face.
Nora was busy building a sand castle, trying to get Pyrrha to help but the eternal fighter just could not bring herself to do it. Instead she watched Jaune and helped him swing that much higher with a mere wave of her hand. Lying on a bench opposite of her was Ren who was busy reading; not ignoring the world but not participating either. However if something were to suddenly happened, he would be on his feet long before the others; one foot in battle, the other in peace.
A gentle touch to his arm brought him back dismissing the world that he had built. The Grimm were gone, the hunter and huntresses returning with them. The park was just that, a park. No element of danger, no adventure on the horizon. Life was back to as it was supposed to be.
He sat on the bench, now far away from the world of his creation, but felt neither fear nor sadness. He knew his world was safe in the hands of those who helped him create it and in the hearts of those who accepted it. Perhaps that was why he allowed himself a brief respite from his otherwise daunting schedule. Despite this though, he never once considered it work. It was all a labor of love and even if life somehow separated him from his children, he was confident that everything would be alright. The world would live on; he would live on in the hearts and minds of those he touched. And so Monty sat back and enjoyed a day in the park.