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a/n: hello first author note here I'll get to the point. currently, Grimm is 13 years old, it 2 years before the plot
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Grimm stood in the wild lands of Atlas, the crisp air of Remnant brushing against his face. The alien landscape, vastly different from the hellish depths he had expected, stretched before him. Towering cliffs and frozen expanses painted a picture of both beauty and danger.
His newly acquired abilities pulsed within him, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead. The power to dodge with precision, adapt and learn swiftly, wield any weapon with finesse, and manipulate minds and situations. Grimm couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as he surveyed the surroundings.
"Now, what's next?" Grimm murmured to himself, contemplating the vast possibilities. His eyes glinted with the realization that he was no longer bound by the rules of the world he once knew.
The wilderness held its mysteries, and Grimm was ready to explore, adapt, and perhaps even manipulate his way through the challenges of Remnant. He took a deep breath, absorbing the cold energy of Atlas, and with a determined stride, he ventured forth into the unknown. The echoes of Lucifer's laughter were distant memories as Grimm embraced the adventure that awaited him in the wild lands of Atlas.
a few hours later
f-fucking aye it s-so cold I'm going to freeze to death s-shit i think I'm blacking out crash
Raven Branwen pov
The cold winds whipped through the desolate wilderness of Atlas as Raven Branwen patrolled the area. Her red eyes scanned the snowy landscape, ever watchful for signs of Grimm or any other threats. As she moved silently through the icy terrain, a figure caught her attention.
Raven's keen instincts led her to a half-dead individual lying in the snow. The sight intrigued her, and she approached cautiously, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. The figure's ragged appearance and the subtle rise and fall of its chest hinted at a struggle for survival.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Raven muttered to herself, her eyes narrowing. The individual stirred, and Raven spoke in her characteristic cold and measured tone, "You're lucky I found you before the Grimm did. What happened to you?"
Grimm, lying in the snow, looked up at Raven with a mix of exhaustion and defiance. "Got separated from my group during an attack. Thought I could handle it, but... looks like I was wrong."
Raven studied him for a moment, her gaze piercing. "You don't look like a typical Huntsman or Huntress. Who are you, and what brings you to these parts?"
"I'm Grimm," he replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Yeah, I know, funny name. Got a thing for challenges, ended up here."
Raven raised an eyebrow at the response but didn't press further. She was known for her pragmatism, and Grimm's presence intrigued her. "Grimm, huh? Well, you're not the first lost soul I've stumbled upon. Can you stand?"
Grimm nodded weakly, and with a subtle wave of Raven's hand, he felt a surge of energy aiding his recovery. As he got to his feet, Raven observed him with a hint of suspicion.
"Surviving in these parts requires more than just a name. You must have skills. Are you a fighter?" Raven questioned, her red eyes assessing him.
Grimm met her gaze, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "I can handle myself in a fight. And in case you're wondering, I'm not a threat to you. Just got caught up in something bigger than me."
Raven remained stoic, contemplating Grimm's words. "You're in Atlas territory. It's not a forgiving place. If you're going to survive, you'll need more than just combat skills. Follow me; I'll take you to a nearby settlement. After that, your fate is your own."
Grimm nodded in gratitude, and as they ventured into the frozen landscape, Raven Branwen kept a watchful eye on the mysterious individual named Grimm, wondering what secrets he might hold in this unforgiving world.
As they trudged through the snowy landscape, Raven Branwen maintained her stoic demeanor, occasionally glancing at Grimm with a mix of curiosity and caution. Despite the biting cold, Grimm couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue about the woman who had saved him from an uncertain fate.
"So, Raven," Grimm began, breaking the silence between them, "what brings you out here in the freezing wilderness? Not exactly a place for a leisurely stroll."
Raven shot him a sharp look before responding, "Survival. This harsh terrain has its challenges, but it also keeps the weak and unsuspecting away. I find solitude and strength in places others fear."
Grimm smirked, "Sounds like we have something in common. I'm no stranger to challenges. In fact, I seek them out. Keeps life interesting, you know?"
Raven's eyes narrowed slightly, "Interesting, huh? Life in Remnant is often anything but. What kind of challenges are you talking about?"
Grimm chuckled, "Well, let's just say I don't shy away from the unexpected. Got a thing for the extraordinary, you could say."
Raven remained silent for a moment, contemplating Grimm's words. "Extraordinary, hm? You'll find plenty of that in Remnant, but it's not always a gift. Sometimes, it's a curse."
Grimm tilted his head, intrigued. "You sound like you speak from experience. Care to share, or are you the mysterious type who keeps everything close to the chest?"
Raven's gaze hardened, but a subtle flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes. "Everyone has their demons, some just learn to live with them. Survival demands it."
As they walked, the conversation shifted, delving into their respective backgrounds, experiences, and the unforgiving nature of Remnant. The air remained cold, but between the two, a subtle understanding started to form, born out of shared struggles and the unspoken acknowledgment that in this world, strength was the only currency that truly mattered.
As Grimm and Raven continue their journey through the harsh landscape, the atmosphere around them becomes slightly more relaxed. Grimm, feeling a playful impulse, decides to inject a bit of humor into their conversation:
"So, Raven," Grimm says with a sly grin, "if surviving in this frozen wilderness is all about strength and solitude, I must say, I've never met someone who makes it look so... enchanting. Almost makes me reconsider my love for challenges. Almost."
He punctuates the remark with a wink, leaving the implication hanging in the air, curious to see how Raven responds to the unexpected flirtatious banter.
Raven raises an eyebrow at Grimm's flirty remark, her red eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She's not one to easily succumb to charm, especially in the unforgiving world of Remnant. She glances at him with a measured expression, a subtle smirk playing on her lips.
"Enchanting, huh? You must be new around here if you find freezing wilderness enchanting," she replies, her tone remaining cool and composed. Raven gives him a once-over, silently sizing him up. "Survival doesn't leave much room for charm, but I suppose everyone needs a distraction now and then."
With that, Raven continues walking, leaving Grimm to ponder her response. Her demeanor suggests a reluctance to entertain such banter, focusing instead on the challenges that lie ahead in the wilds of Remnant.
The atmosphere shifts abruptly as a low growl echoes through the icy landscape. Raven's senses sharpen, and she immediately unsheathes her sword, turning her attention toward the approaching threat. Grimm, too, senses the danger, and any traces of flirtatious banter vanish as they face a common enemy.
From the shadows of the snowy terrain emerge a pack of actual Grimm, the monstrous creatures that haunt Remnant. Beowolves, Ursai, and other dark creatures of Grimm origin converge on the duo.
Raven locks eyes with Grimm, the unspoken understanding between them clear – survival comes before any banter. Without further words, they position themselves back to back, ready to face the onslaught of the Grimm that now encircle them. The freezing wilderness is no longer a backdrop for casual conversation; it's the arena for a battle against the very creatures that share Grimm's namesake.
The howling winds carry an eerie symphony as the Grimm creatures emerge from the snowy shadows. Raven's eyes narrow, and her grip tightens on the hilt of her sword. Grimm, too, readies himself for the impending onslaught, his playful demeanor replaced by a steely resolve.
The Beowolves, dark, lupine creatures with bone-white masks, advance with predatory intent. Ursai, massive bear-like Grimm, lumber through the snow, their red eyes glowing ominously. The tension in the air thickens as the duo braces for the imminent battle.
Raven glances at Grimm, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. "Looks like our conversation will have to wait," she mutters, her tone now focused and resolute.
Grimm smirks, a flicker of his earlier humor returning. "Guess the Grimm couldn't resist the irony," he remarks, readying himself for combat.
As the first wave of Grimm lunges forward, Raven swiftly engages a Beowolf, her movements precise and lethal. Grimm, displaying agility honed by his newfound abilities, dodges Ursai's swipes with unparalleled precision. Their synchronicity in battle is almost poetic, two warriors back to back, each complementing the other's strengths.
Amidst the chaos, Raven and Grimm exchange a brief nod, a silent acknowledgment of their shared struggle against the creatures that bear Grimm's namesake. The battle rages on, the clash of weapons against bone and the snarls of Grimm blending with the howling wind.
In the midst of the skirmish, Grimm catches a glimpse of Raven's combat prowess, an appreciation for her strength and skill shining through. Raven, in turn, recognizes the unpredictable yet effective fighting style of her unlikely companion.
As the last Grimm falls, the snowy battlefield remains silent once more. Raven sheathes her sword, and Grimm takes a moment to catch his breath. The tension that had replaced their earlier banter dissipates, leaving behind a newfound respect forged in the crucible of battle.
Raven looks at Grimm, her eyes softening slightly. "Not bad for someone who claims to prefer challenges," she says, a hint of approval in her voice.
Grimm grins, brushing off the compliment with a nonchalant wave. "Just another day in the life of Grimm. Literal and metaphorical, it seems."
With the Grimm threat momentarily abated, they resume their journey through the frozen wilderness, a silent understanding lingering between them. The flirtatious banter may have been put on hold, but the bond forged in combat against the creatures that share Grimm's name adds a layer of camaraderie to their unconventional alliance in the wilds of Remnant.
The echoes of battle fade as Raven and Grimm resume their trek through the frozen wilderness. The tension has subsided, replaced by a sense of camaraderie born from shared combat. Grimm, still catching his breath, decides to steer the conversation toward a more personal realm.
"So, Raven," he begins, his tone casual, "we've been through a little excitement back there. How about we lighten the mood a bit? What's life like for a lone warrior like yourself? Any particular likes or dislikes?"
Raven casts him a sidelong glance, her red eyes betraying a hint of skepticism. "Likes and dislikes, huh? In a world like Remnant, those can be dangerous luxuries. But fine, I'll entertain the question. I like strength, survival, and the solitude these lands offer. Dislikes? Unnecessary complications."
Grimm smirks, nodding in understanding. "Practical, I like that. But everyone's got something they enjoy, even in this grim world. Any guilty pleasures, perhaps?"
Raven's expression remains stoic, but a flicker of amusement dances in her eyes. "If you're expecting me to reveal some secret weakness, you'll be disappointed. Guilty pleasures have no place in the life I lead."
Grimm chuckles, undeterred. "Fair enough. How about work? Any particular profession or just a wanderer like me?"
Raven pauses before responding, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "I've been involved in... various pursuits. Let's just say survival often requires versatility."
Grimm grins, appreciating the mystery in her answer. "Versatility, got it. Now, speaking of complexities, any family? Maybe little warriors following in your footsteps?"
The question brings a subtle shift in Raven's demeanor. "Family is a luxury not everyone can afford, Grimm. Let's say I've made choices that prioritize survival over sentiment."
Grimm raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Survival, huh? Can't argue with that. But damn, those hips of yours would make any little warriors lucky to inherit some strong genes."
Raven's expression remains unreadable, though a hint of amusement tugs at the corners of her lips. "Smooth, but compliments won't change the harsh realities of this world."
Grimm grins, enjoying the banter. "Fair enough, Raven. Just thought I'd lighten the mood. After all, life's too short not to appreciate the curves, even in the midst of survival."
As they continue their journey, the conversation lingers in the air, a subtle interplay between two individuals navigating the complexities of Remnant, finding common ground amidst the challenges that lie ahead.
The biting cold of the Atlesian wilderness intensifies as the sun dips below the horizon, signaling the need for Raven and Grimm to make camp for the night. They find a secluded spot amidst the towering cliffs, a sheltered enclave that provides some relief from the relentless winds.
Raven takes charge, swiftly setting up a small, efficient campsite. She expertly constructs a makeshift shelter using her sword and some durable fabric, creating a barrier against the cold. Grimm, observing her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, offers a hand with gathering firewood.
As the flames flicker to life in a small pit, Raven and Grimm sit by the fire, the warmth providing a welcome reprieve from the frigid temperatures. The crackling of the fire intermingles with the distant howls of Grimm creatures echoing in the night.
Grimm glances around their makeshift campsite. "Not bad, Raven. Seems you've got this survival thing down to an art."
Raven smirks, her eyes fixed on the flames. "Survival is an art. It's about adapting to the challenges Remnant throws at you."
As they settle in, the conversation resumes, albeit in a more relaxed manner. Grimm leans back against a rock, gazing at the starlit sky. "So, Raven, ever take a moment to appreciate the beauty in this world? Even in the midst of survival, something is captivating about the night sky."
Raven follows his gaze, a contemplative expression crossing her features. "Beauty is subjective. The night sky, to me, is a canvas of endless possibilities and potential dangers. It's a reminder that survival requires vigilance, even in moments of apparent tranquility."
Grimm chuckles, sensing her pragmatism. "Fair enough. But hey, even warriors need a break. How about we share stories? Something to pass the time and take our minds off the constant struggle."
Raven considers the suggestion before nodding slightly. "Stories, hm? I'll entertain the idea, but keep in mind, not all stories have happy endings."
As the night progresses, the warmth of the fire, the backdrop of the starlit sky, and the exchange of tales create a fragile yet genuine connection between Raven and Grimm. In the unpredictable wilderness of Atles, they find a moment of respite, sharing stories beneath the watchful gaze of the night.