Fridays were when Weiss was the last to return to the dorm because the rest of her team scheduled their classes better than she did. Weiss rubbed her neck and groaned as she walked down the hall, still cold from the unseemly amount of air conditioning school buildings used for a full day of classes. It felt like her energy was being sapped, as if Port's lectures weren't always draining enough. But his classes were like running a marathon in humid weather without any water. The heiress's one consolation for such an awful day was that she could relax now that classes were over for two days.

As she passed open dorm rooms, she heard teams ranting about their weekend plans: where they were going, who they were going with, and what sort of projects were coming up. All of that was said with the undercurrent of nervousness brought around by the encroaching finals. Weiss left the students to their petty concerns. Schoolwork was just as easy as summoning glyphs. She reached her dorm and didn't hear any sort of havoc from inside and Weiss felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

Weiss opened the door, ready to relax and maybe sharpen her sword. Those plans died when she saw the state of the room. Filthy, sweaty clothes and textbooks covered the floor. Dust caked every desk except her own. Every bed was a mess and had dirty sheets except hers. Empty cups and half-eaten sandwiches littered the floor and window sill.

The heiress's eye twitched. She had picked up the room yesterday. But instead of exploding on the spot like she did when she started at Beacon, Weiss sighed until every bit of air was out of her lungs. Then she picked up her bag, which she didn't know she dropped, and carried it into the room. After putting away her equipment and changing into her usual clothes, Weiss put her hands on her hips and sized up her opponent. The mess was impressive at first, but once she exhaled the need to strangle someone, Weiss saw that there wasn't much substance to the chore. It would only take an hour, she decided, just a little bit of work and then the rest of the evening belonged to her. Weiss armed herself with furniture polish, a rag, a garbage bag, and a clothes basket. She sourly noted that the cleaning equipment hadn't been touched by the rest of the team.

Weiss longed for the days of having servants while she set the clothes basket in the middle of the room. She particularly missed the maids, who were the most underrated workers that deserved more than her father paid them. She couldn't remember a single time where the floors had so much as a speck of mud on them in her entire childhood. But such work was a double-edged sword. The maids were so efficient that they had raised the young Schnee's standards for cleanliness to, according to Yang, "impossible" levels. When she was plopped into the dorm of three other girls who didn't seem to care about picking up a dust rag, Weiss was forced to take up the mantle and join the fight against dirt. She didn't complain about a little cleaning here and there, but spring cleaning was a whole other beast. It almost felt like her team was mocking her by leaving a massive mess.

Weiss opened the window to get some fresh air, which filled the room with the varied sounds of spring: birds chirping, insects buzzing, and students moaning about going to class on a Friday. Finding the last one to be annoying, Weiss decided to focus on the bird song while she worked. More than one of the plates had food on it that refused to budge, even when Weiss turned the plate upside down. Ruby had probably soaked more food in syrup and couldn't finish it. Weiss sighed. The plates were thrown in a bag marked for incineration. She had initially tried to organize the clothes based on who owned it, but now she just made sure to keep her clothes separate; the others had no room to argue. However, if she picked up a horribly sweaty outfit, the heiress always knew it was Yang's. She swore the blonde did it on purpose just because she got some sick pleasure out of Weiss picking up her sweaty undergarments. The dust was no problem, she just had to use a rag and polish and it was gone for another day. The books on the floor still upset her, but only because seeing any book handled so poorly was annoying. She picked up one book about the studies of Grimm and found a smaller book underneath. The red and black cover could only hint at Blake's poorly concealed smut. Weiss rolled her eyes, found a pair of thick gloves, and put the "book" back on the shelf.

When the work was finally done, she stood in the middle of the room and took a deep breath. There was something deeply satisfying about finishing a job, no matter how simple, and the heiress allowed herself a small bit of pride. And now that the room was clean, it was time for a bit of relaxation.

Weiss picked up a box of dust that was perfectly stacked in the corner and brought it to her desk. She found an empty dust chamber for Myrtenaster and took a seat. The dust had been expended after a vigorous training session with Ruby and it vexed her to have her equipment left in such a state. After all, shouldn't a Huntress always be prepared to deal with a threat? Weiss selected an ice vial and popped the top off, taking a moment to appreciate the fine powder.

Dust is many things. It is powerful, capable of shaking an entire continent. It is beautiful; once refined, the blue grains flowed like a serene river. But most importantly, behind its commanding presence, it is sensitive, just like the Huntress-in-training who filled the chamber to the top. Weiss smiled for the first time that day and paused in her ministrations to look out the open window.

The sky was still a cheerful blue and the moans of the students finally ceased, Weiss noted as her fingers danced over the meticulously organized vials to find a fire one. As soon as she picked it up, a sinking feeling in her gut, which she had identified as her "Yang feeling", started to make itself known. Weiss leaned back in her chair, away from her desk and precious dust. A sigh loaded itself in her diaphragm, ready to expel itself in a moment's notice.

As if on cue, Weiss heard the rising roar of Bumblebee, Yang's pride and joy. As soon as spring came, Yang was out riding the motorcycle from dusk to dawn. Weiss normally wouldn't care what her teammates did in their free time, even if their pastimes often induced headaches, but she wished Yang would take a break from riding. The motorcycle flew past the dorm, an ear-shattering noise that caused Weiss to grit her teeth. But gritting teeth and aggressive sighs were poor defenses against nature.

Exhaust plumed into the room, brought in on a harsh, pollen-filled breeze. The sunny weather had lulled Weiss into a false sense of security, causing her to become lax with taking any allergy pills. The plants, however, did not stop pollinating, and the thick wave smashed against the heiress. The dust was still thick in the air, even with the window open for ventilation, which Weiss had to admit was still open as an impromptu training exercise. If they weren't going to have ideal conditions in the field, it would behoove her to practice reloading her sword's chambers with a breeze to make sure none of the precious dust was whisked away. But the idea of proper training techniques was forgotten as all three assaults mercilessly struck Weiss's sinuses.

Weiss reeled her head back and was overwhelmed by the urge to sneeze. Horror flooded her veins, chilling her against the humidity. A sneeze with an open container was bad and would leave a mess, but sneezing with an entire box of dust was suicidal and even messier, and Weiss was not about to die before she had a chance to drill some decency into her teammates' heads. She instinctively raised her arm to cover her face; unaware until it was too late that it was the arm holding the open dust vial. Weiss twisted her face into an ugly grimace, trying to keep it in long enough to throw herself away from the desk.

The air erupted into a delicate, almost musical sound before she could put the vial down. Weiss opened her eyes before the world exploded, just long enough to calmly sit back in the chair and think, "I'm going to have to clean this, aren't I?"