Okay, so I'm thinking about maybe ending this story in the next two chapters or so. This story was merely meant as an introduction to the guys and gals of FYSX, and I'm running out of ideas anyways. I may end it all with some Midterms shenanigans just to wind down the story slowly. Not sure yet.

Chapter the Thirteenth: In which Sparring is done, a Pep-talk is had, and Thunder is cast.

"Okay, once more from the top…" Slate pushed his diminutive sparring partner away by his and hers interlocked swords.

"When you're up against a bigger and stronger opponent like now, speed and cunning is key." He grinned at the Faunus girl breathing slow, deep breaths in front of him.

"Especially when I've got double the amount of swords you have." Yasmin huffed.

"Ah stuff it, Slate. I know all this already."

"Why are you panting? Is the widdle doggy all warm and achy from the workout?" Yasmin yelled out in rage and swung Nightshade in a flurry of swipes at her partner, most of which Slate blocked with ease.

"That's another thing you need to work on. Attack blindly in a sparring match and you'll only lose your dignity-" He kicked out Yasmin's feet from under her, making her fall flat on her ass. He swiped his hand out in a wide arc as if to indicate the whole world.

"- out there in the world? It'll be your life." Yasmin grimaced as she rose to her feet.

"Well of course I'm going to get pissed if you talk like that! You know dust-damned well what I think of racism!" She yelled angrily as she raised a fist, crackling with electricity. Slate merely blocked the punch with the broadside of one of his swords.

"Why'd you even do that? Couldn't you just have zapped me from over there?" Slate stared at Yasmin with a quizzical look.

"I need to be in physical contact to zap something."

"That's hardly an excuse. The air's still there, isn't it?"

"It's called empty air for a reason, Slate."

"… Swing your arm around for a sec, will you?" Yasmin crossed her arms with a bemused look on her face.

"… What."

"… Just… just do it, okay?" Yasmin sighed and flicked her arm horizontally to the side.

"Now… did that feel empty to you?" Yasmin frowned at Slate.

"…Get to the point, maybe?" Slate chuckled.

"My point being, had it been truly nothing there – 'empty air', as you said – you wouldn't have felt that brush of air against your hand if there was nothing there, now would you?"

"It's just wind." Slate smiled at his partner's – willing or unwilling – failure to see his idea.

"Winds could not be if there was a vacuum, no?" He stepped up close to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm saying that we need to break you out of that silly notion you need to be within arm's reach to unleash thunder upon thine enemies." Yasmin huffed.

"Yeah? Good luck with that."

Slate walked over to the target controls for the shooting range section of the large training hall they had sparred in, and fidgeted with the controls. As the targets whirred out to a fairly decent range, Slate once again turned to Yasmin.

"Try and hit these targets."

Yasmin sighed as she held out her hand towards the tiny pieces of paper. Concentrating, she could feel the familiar tickle in her fingertips as tiny sparks radiated off them. She lowered her hand again in disappointment.

"It didn't work. I told you."

"Because you're still hung up on the notion that there's nothing in between your hand and the targets. Try flicking your wrist as you line up your shot, feel the air push against your hand to remind you it's there." Yasmin once again took aim with her hand. Nothing.

"… Want me to psych you up with some well-chosen dog puns?" Slate chuckled.

"SHUT UP FOR OUM'S SAKE!" Yasmin shouted back angrily as she swung her arm towards the targets while she snapped her head back towards Slate, glaring angrily under a furrowed brow.

"… Uh, Yasmin? You might wanna take a look at your targets…"

In the centre of the middle target was a burning, fist-sized hole.

AN: I'm getting the weirdest feeling there's kind of a love/hate relationship between these two.

So yeah, Yasmin has learned ranged stormcalling. One step closer to badass.

I do not own RWBY, that's RoosterTeeth and Monty Oum.