#* simple unreadable or perhaps just unthinkable = the gray maiden *

[flightofaqrow]

@the-gray-maiden

gods, why is he choking on his tongue all of a sudden? why does one word feel so wrong?

two seconds ago qrow asked an even cruder question by comparison. something about having to ask twice, maybe. suddenly it feels less playful and more... disrespectful. desperate. undeserving.

he can't even make that expression anymore, which already feels like failing. he coughs awkwardly and convinces himself it's more about saving face at this point than the actual result.

"i think it might be... er... i would... if you, uhhhh... could you... please?"

well, he tried.

[flightofaqrow]

@the-gray-maiden from ***

"You are a very bold man Qrow Branwen," Lia teased while sliding into the water. "Just baring yourself out the middle of the forest you should be more careful." She grinned, her hair floating along her back as she swam.

so she says, as she does the very same thing, and qrow looks on, respectfully, just a subtle slack to his jaw as ragged hair suddenly floats around her, wearing nothing but a smug grin, like some sort of selkie.

"bold? nah..." he scoffs, quite certain they can both take care of themselves; which is the joke, but he'll play along, "use'ta do this all th' time. an' actually, i'd say th' middle'a th' forest is about th' only place you can get away with it."

[flightofaqrow]

@the-gray-maiden from ***

"i know things lot's'a people don't," and he thought that had been made pretty clear between them by this point. ...or had revealing one or two of his own secrets make Lia think she knew the whole story?

"look, Lia. just... be careful out there, alright."

[flightofaqrow]

Top or bottom? ;)

ask away ** accepting

"oh brothers, not this again."

"listen, here's th' deal. just tell me what y'want an' i'll do it to ya. don't know? i'll figure somethin' out."

[flightofaqrow]

🎲

kiss roulette ** accepting

17. an upside down kiss

oh, qrow's so glad to see a familiar shock of platinum snags and braids coming through the trees, that all his grunting summoned something other than grimm.

he dangles down, pathetically, from branches; ankles and wings bound by rope, cape falling the wrong way from his shoulders; caught in some old bandit trap, because Misfortune never misses the opportunity to really rub his face in it.

"Liaaaaa," he coos, "jus' th' woman i wanted to see!" gods, he feels so stupid, and the brow she raises at him does nothing to salve it.

"mind.... uh... helpin'..." he doesn't know why she's looking at him like that. why she steps forward like she's stalking prey, "..me... down?"

"Sure," she says simply, something absolutely unreadable (or perhaps just unthinkable, to qrow) in gray eyes, "...but first."

whether it's something about seeing him, or the opportunity of this situation, or seeing him in this situation, he has no idea. but he finds himself blinking obliviously at the woman's collarbone as she leans in and presses plush lips to his own.

only the softness of her hands and her nose brushing against strands of beard lining his chin, the chastity of a lingering, but unassuming little peck, keeps him calm about being so constrained while this happens. ...has him closing crimson eyes and kissing her back, more swept up in the moment than he cares to be. it feels a little backwards, but fuck it...

he clears his throat when she steps back, finding a smitten smirk and the audacity to look so smug while in so vulnerable a state and still wriggling uncomfortably, "well now... i'd like t'help y'out too, but, uh, blood's rushin' to th' wrong head right now, babe."

the vulgarity makes Lia groan with regret, and qrow considers that a success. he only hopes it doesn't push her so far back that she actually turns and leaves him, er, hanging.

[flightofaqrow]

[ CROWN ]:          having created a flower crown, the sender carefully places it atop the receiver’s head.

hair ** always accepting

Lia's sweet, too sweet to qrow. in a world full of bitterness, he probably shouldn't complain. for at least a moment, he can sit back and enjoy a sip from his flask and be surrounded by the better part of old memories, a gentle touch, and the soft aroma of lavender wafting from a crown Lia made from the sprigs he'd gathered during their latest wander, as she places it on his head.

"nice job," he comments, as the thing manages to stay in place and one piece, in spite of Misfortune.