#* strain to see some fortune in tomorrow = vol 6 *

[flightofaqrow]

@slaughtermachine from ***

"'proper' is a word used by men who would seek to enslave with it."

A finger idly traces the frame of his mask where it meets his jaw. He has to admit he doesn't trust humans easily, and even those that seemed to talk the talk often ended up disappointing--Torchwick, Cinder, and their ilk were only the latest to think his good graces were that easy to get into.

But he has to admit something about Qrow's way with words seems, if nothing else, a little closer to earth than usual. He's clearly a little more versed in the invisible hierarchy than most.

"...I like you."

qrow's pointer finger presses against the table as he makes more points. crimson eyes light up his face, no matter how glazed over by drink they might be.

surrounded by company with nothing to prove anything to, he's more a preachy kind of blasted than his usual belligerence. thoughts flow and wax poetic from a lubricated tongue, and the man basically just gave him permission to keep going.

"see! tha's what i'm talkin' about!" he picks up his tumbler, but stops just shy of taking a sip to talk some more. perhaps he stepped away from teaching too soon, or perhaps it's just become a piece of him he can't really escape.

"y'do things people like an' they'll like you. but if y'start t'do things your own way, then they try'ta push ya back. make you a slave to the current society. so y'gotta... do th' right one a'th' right time. use propriety to gain their trust, an' save up your deviances for when it's important."

[flightofaqrow]

Vol [4 through] 6 Qrow Analysis

Vol 6 qrow hits so hard, but it’s also a huge confirmation of who he is. This is qrow at his worst, rock bottom, which inversely, becomes a hint of what he’s like at his best, and these things have also been backed up by the volumes before and after.

He’s been reliable, until now. Promising to wake everyone up at dawn, but too many bottles and apathy weariness makes him oversleep vs. always getting to the fight right on time and the job done and Yang’s, “I trust him.”

He minimizes making his drinking the kid’s problem, until now. Apathy cellar and Argus binges and being completely oblivious, with Yang confirming, “I’ve never seen him this bad.”* vs. Making sure everyone’s dropped off at a safe location, the day’s work is done, then heading to the bar alone and returning without incident later.**

He’s been communicative and that’s important to him, until now. sending letters, texts, telling others to call and check in, “communication’s a two way street,” vs. ignoring Ruby’s calls and trying to slink away from things. Why would she have tried so many times, and get so frustrated if this wasn’t unusual for him?

He’s always fought the good fight, no matter what, until now (when his reason for it got yanked out from under him). “Keep moving forward.” “Sometimes bad things just happen.” supporting, guiding, informing team RWBY’s deviances vs. Total Resignation and shooting down ideas.

* doesn’t necessarily mean he’s never been that bad, but he was at least able to hide it from the girls. ** with the exception of Ozpin/Oscar’s appearance bringing him home early, and for which Ruby’s “are you drunk again?” implies there have been other smaller overlaps, but also times of relative sobriety for her to compare them to. It still fits as an in-between example, as Vol 5 for his arc is starting to see these flaws appear or appear more often now that he’s actually around people instead of isolating; they’re just not at the peak yet.

Vol 5 is actually where I get a lot of inspo for this muse from, as I think we get the clearest examples of what qrow’s life and mentality has been for his adult life. Vol 4 he’s half behind the scenes and half stepping out from the curtain, Vol 6 he’s learning new things that shake his worldview. Vol 5 is the sweet spot where we see him acting as he is and has been for awhile: Oz’s functional alcoholic confidant.

So, Vol 6 hurts not only because seeing the behaviors of alcoholism and the demons that feed it front and center stings, but because on some level (if you’re paying attention and reading between the lines, even on a subconscious level) we understand that qrow’s not usually like this. It doesn’t take 100% Emotional Intelligence and a nat 20 perception check for Ruby to pick up on him “not taking it well” here, and that’s why I usually also take Yang’s assessment at face value - if only because doing so really helps drive home that this is truly the lowest of low points for him.

These are not core traits and behaviors, these are his psychological shadow-self traits winning. Flip them on their head, and we see what his actual values are. What he’s been a dimmed down version of before, and what he continues to grow into afterward; once he can leave all that behind, as well as ditch the cool hero/tragic martyr image, and just be himself. No need for an Ever After metaphor here, he already faced his apathy and shed his burdens in real life. He’s still getting there in the subsequent volumes, still stumbling, but that person is the more actualized self which Clover gave him the safety and space to explore, and Robyn held him accountable to.

[flightofaqrow]

🎲 We gon let Qrow 🐺have his fill tonight

kiss roulette ** accepting

@slaughtermachine 1. a kiss on the cheek

qrow hates masks. ones like this, anyway. he wears his emotions on his face and his heart on his sleeve (even if he tries not to, doesn't admit it). he's good at reading people, at reading between the lines, at not judging by the cover nor what's beneath.

...he's good at leaving trails of kisses all over skin until someone shudders.

he hates having all of that blocked.

but he's also not one to talk. maybe qrow doesn't wear a mask on his face, but that doesn't undo the barbed wire around his heart; his walls and sharp edges show up in other ways.

so, all in all, he convinces himself - with his back shoved up against a brick wall by this brick house of a man - in denial of any reason to discontinue, it evens out.

qrow won't force it off, won't even ask. he respects other's boundaries, but not himself enough to worry if it's a warning sign. however, he dares to express his frustrations as part of his ministrations - unlatching from where he bites the guy's earlobe to set to task on one of those wandering trails, regardless of the beasts he might attract. his lips press a line from where soft cartilage attaches to sinew, to stubbled jawline, to the tip of jagged cheekbone until it buries beneath the mask's casted edge. his tongue tucks just under, and his teeth catch there, too.

he doesn't expect it to work, but so long as he's communicated the desire of want - that qrow would see this man and stand unafraid and still kiss him, that's enough. now he knows. whether it actually happens in the course of whatever this is tonight, is on him.

[flightofaqrow]

@knowledgesought sent: ❛ perhaps it is the greater grief, to remain on the earth when another is gone. ❜

prompts ** selectively accepting

oh, sure, sure. little miss relic spirit of knowledge spouting universal truths at qrow, as if it were the same as wisdom.

don't have to tell him twice, he's lived through loss enough times over, and again, and more to come. looking at him with those all-knowing saucer eyes and spouting the obvious does nothing to make it feel any better. a simple fact put so succinctly, dug up from the depths he drowns it in, hurts and that's all; throws salt on still-open wounds unable to heal through alcohol-thinned blood.

was it supposed to be comforting or some nonsense? nah. he takes another swig through a scowl.

"oh, buzz off," qrow didn't ask. and he already knows what she does, when it came to all that. probably the only reason she could give something unsolicited, a freebie.

"don't patronize me."

[flightofaqrow]

tag refresh, verses

[flightofaqrow]

♫ ♬ tonight i feel like the world won't miss me so much to say but there's no one listening if we're alone are we all together in that?

a second chance to give you something it takes a lifetime to come from nothing i refuse to believe in running away, no

i got a picture of what matters and i keep it close to my heart it's a little faded but so am i

i am doing the best i can with everything i am don't you know nobody's perfect? do you understand how hard i'm trying for you? i am doing the best i can with everything i am don't you know i think you're worth it? do you understand? how hard i'm trying to? do the best i can ...the best i can ♫ ♬

[flightofaqrow]

halves

qrow + Nora ( @magnhildsmight​​ ) [incomplete]

“Do you ever…. think about where you’re from? Of if you might have family out there somewhere?” Arms fold across Nora’s chest, hugging herself tightly. “I… I try and remember but I just. I can’t. I don’t remember anything from before I met Ren and-“ Cutting herself off, she sighs again.

“sure… but by now i figure they’re long dead or don’t care,” qrow shrugs, blunt and aloof as ever, “never knew much aside from Raven m’self.” small hints that he understands what it’s like to be a person more half than whole.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Far away, Long ago, Glowing dim as an ember, Things my heart Used to know Things it yearns to remember And a song someone sings, Once upon a December.”

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“hey…” qrow says gently; rough and chiding, but low in volume. uncertain if he’s welcome - usually not, but he can’t stand someone so vibrant looking so glum. too much a reminder of his own hurts to see someone else wearing a thousand yard stare.

he escapes it for himself, he tries to make it better for them. even if he doesn’t know how, and isn’t very good at it.

“…aren’t ya a little young t’be soundin’ all nostalgic?”

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Nora’d thought she’d been alone, or at least alone enough that no one would hear her. Snapping out of… whatever that was, she looks down at the floor, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I umm… Probably, yeah.” She may not have even been two decades old yet, but with everything she’d been through she felt like she’d lived a thousand lifetimes already. “Sorry. If I disturbed you or something. Thought nobody was around…”

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“well, sometimes even a bad luck charm can manage t’be sneaky.”

sometimes too many twigs snap under his feet, or some other unfortunate sound. but not just now.

at least she sounds more like a kid again. even if a kid that’s had to grow up too fast and face things that only get harder from here. reassurances fall flat in this kind of situation, without something specific to address. qrow blows past apologies and murmured attempts to save face. none of that matters.

“got somethin’ t’get off your chest there, Sparks?”

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“I’m… not entirely sure, actually.” She goes quiet again, sighing. She chews on her bottom lip as she thinks about what she wants to say. Just how much she’s willing to talk about.

“Do you ever…. think about where you’re from? Of if you might have family out there somewhere?” Arms fold across her chest, hugging herself tightly. “I… I try and remember but I just. I can’t. I don’t remember anything from before I met Ren and-“ Cutting herself off, she sighs again. “Sorry, I’m rambling… it just. It bothers me sometimes, I guess. Doesn’t matter how much I tell myself it doesn’t.”

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a grunt grumbles from qrow’s chest and rumbles in his throat without making it to his mouth. a small processing sound, as he learns more about Nora than he’s known before in a single statement. not that he hadn’t had a hunch about a trio of kids so easily able to pick up their lives and tag along with his niece, with no one even trying to make contact along the way.

part of what made him all the more protective of the whole group.

“sure… but by now i figure they’re long dead or don’t care,” he shrugs, blunt and aloof as ever, “never knew much aside from Raven m’self.”

small hints that he understands what it’s like to be a person more half than whole.

she looks small, cold. qrow sits down nearby, denies himself any notion of reaching out, but at least offers the warmth of a body beside her. sometimes it bothers him too, but he’s better at telling himself it shouldn’t. better at repressing. he’s had years to hone the skill. years to figure out how to swallow it all down and keep moving forward, years and…

settled in, he pulls his flask from his pocket and takes a sip. wets his lips for the talking, dampens his soul for the conversation. still holding it, his pointer finger extends and he gestures towards the girl - possibly poor advice emphasized with a sloshing sound,

“the way i see it, y’shouldn’t let the past define you anyway. s’what you do now, an’ th’ future you fight for that matters.”

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“I know it doesn’t change who I am or anything but…” Her ears drooped as she sighed, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I just… I guess I’m just curious is all. And with us going to Atlas, it’s… I dunno.”

She put her chin on her knees, chewing on her bottom lip. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d let anyone see her this vulnerable. She was always the one who pushed through everything, no matter how bad it got, and did so with a smile on her face.

Nora had to admit, that was getting a lot harder these days.

“I guess I’m just afraid of what I might find there.”

She shook her head. It didn’t matter what kind of ‘family’ she had, if any, there. She was with her family. Ren. Jaune. Ruby. Oscar. She’d even started considering Weiss, Blake and Yang a part of that. Qrow too.

[flightofaqrow]

Some mornings you just stop and remember that Qrow was literally part of a train wreck.

[flightofaqrow]

smooth

qrow + Weiss ( @nixfactum​ )

 “Ketchup isn’t a sauce, it’s a smoothie. Tomatoes are fruit.”

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“ketchup is a sauce. a bloody mary is a smoothie.”

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“Silence, bootlicker.”

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“uhhh, nope,” he grins playfully and winks at the girl, “see, if my tongue was so busy bootlickin’, ya wouldn’t hafta hush me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Well, the security system video footage says different, minus the pun.”  A roll of eyes,  “Tomatoes are fruits, therefore it’s a smoothie. Good beverages for the open-minded.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“that’s a bluff,” qrow retorts without hesitation, “an’ it’s a sauce. tomatoes might be fruits, but ketchup is concentrated. smoothies’re blended.”

his hand lifts and fingers pinch together, “it’s about th’ viscosity.”

he’s just being an ass.

“…course in tha’ case maybe ya could consider’t a jam.”

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“Alright, believe it’s a bluff, take the risk. It’s not like I don’t have access to the security, being a Schnee and all.”  A distant wave of her hand.

 “But so, you’re telling me, it’s.. a smoothie, but thick?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

his eyebrow raises, “flauntin’ th’ family name, huh, Snowflake? now who’s a bootlicker?”

even if there is footage of him… what? being friendly with James? there’s still far more of him making trouble within the ranks and around Atlas as he saw fit. she’s got nothing on him.

somehow that has become more of an argument here than the tomato thing.

he sighs, “no i’m sayin’ it’s a fruit concentrate,” now he’s just being dramatic, with a flourish of his wrist, “the beginnin’ step, guess i’d be willin’ t’say a… a proto-smoothie.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Awh, thank you for agreeing that it’s a smoothie. It’s so good to know I have Qrow Branwen’s approval of such.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“eh, whatever.”

he goes back to drinking his bloody mary while she drinks her ketchup.

…Ruby and Yang have such good friends.

welcome to th’ bandit life: where y’can use dirty tactics whenever y’want and drink whatever y’like.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Can we hold hands too?

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“physical affection?” he immediately shoots out his pointer finger in objection, it wobbles just a little along with unsteady feet, ���now that’s where we draw th’line!”

after a few blinks, qrow breaks out into a grin,

“ah, i’m just kiddin’ Snowflake. c’mere.”

…speaking of sauce. it’s hitting him pretty hard.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

 Doubtfully, already this situation is discomforting. But the knowledge of it brings her to nod her head anyway,  “Yeah? Well, lines are meant to be crossed sometimes, besides holding hands can be a form of guarding or guiding, not affection.”

Now she’s wandering over, offering her hand.  “Lets.. go sit down and talk about your fancy, Bandit rules.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

”those jus’ sound like alternate forms’a affection, really,” qrow takes her hand, the same way he would to hold onto any other kid or student or one of his nieces, and realized a few seconds later it’s not as cold as he was expecting. maybe it was the gloves. that must be it.

speaking of crossed lines, Weiss really shouldn’t be the one leading him, but… call him guilty of succumbing to winging it.

“tch,” he scoffs, with good humor as he sits, “th’ thing about bandits’s there are no rules. …’cept workin’ together t’survive,” he rolls his eyes, “then goin’ right back t’each for their own. once every’ne’s safe.”

[flightofaqrow]

tag refresh, verses

[flightofaqrow]

cold without you here

qrow + Qrow ( @littleblackqrow​​ )

“so... still pretty pissed at Oz, aren’t you?”

“Aren't you?"

“don’t you think Oz had bigger things on his plate to consider than just trust? so when did yours for him become so fragile?”

“When did you become so forgiving?”

“heh. when i met him.”

“ ...I dont like this place.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

freezing cold air chills even deeper than bones. there’s hollow where marrow should be; holes in the soul; a heaviness in the very air where there used to be wings which could carry him through it. qrow wanders the grounds of brunswick farms alone with nothing to distract him. the wind howls and gates whine and wooden floorboards of an old barn creak, and the snow does not fall gently from the sky. no, it whips and bites, nips and stings not unlike the great black monster in his chest, consuming from the inside out.

“so,” even a soft grate of voice echoes loudly in the confines of his own head, “still pretty pissed at Oz, aren’t you?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Arent you?” Qrow asked himself. “All that time thinking that we were doing something worthwhile. Gave him our entire goddamn life, and he couldnt even be honest that anything was ever being accomplished. Raven was right, that insufferable bitch.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“harsh. but you’re not wrong. she was right. and maybe the work amounted to a whole lot of nothin’ so far, but tell me …what would have been the alternative?”

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“When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.” Qrow sighed heavily, and had the strong urge to hug himself. It just felt so cold to be this disconnected from everything he’d built his life on, and he couldn't help but wonder if it’d just be worth it to give up. “Oz just used us though. Didn't he? He spent all that time saying he trusted us but he really just was stringing us along.”

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“don’t… don’t do this. you always do this. don’t separate your logic and your heart.”

it wouldn’t feel so cold if there hadn’t been warmth there in the first place.

“okay, yeah, he lied. and kept secrets. but did it feel like being used at the time? did he ever seem so motivated by selfishness to you?” he takes a moment to quite literally stroke his own ego, “…you and your undeniably sharp-even-when-dulled-by-the-liquor observations and instincts? it’s never been about that kind of petty shit with him, you know that. you knew you were signing up to be part of the major league players here. don’t you think Oz had bigger things on his plate to consider than just trust?

so when did yours for him become so fragile?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“When did you become so forgiving?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “Oz knew all of this was pointless. He set us up with a good life, and for what? To watch Salem inevitably hack away at it? Raven’s gone, Summer’s dead, the girls aren't even old enough to drink yet and they’re out here fighting for their lives and with their own battle wounds already. If we’d never been a part of this to begin with, maybe we’d be better off.” He didn't really believe that, but now that doubt had been planted.

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“heh. when i met him. and Summer. they practically taught us how. don’t you remember? no, you conveniently forget because it hurts. but you want reasons, that’s fair. we can come back to that.”

his mind is spinning too fast again. spiraling. slow it down. it feels oddly slower already, even before the usual amount to drink… anyway.

“back to logic, then. like i asked before: what is the alternative? you have… whatever it is you want. you’re at the tribe with Raven. you’re in patch with Summer. your nieces are running around in a vast green meadow squawking like nevermores with too much energy and no direction because they’re not training for any fight. you all live in blissful ignorance. you don’t have to think about Salem, but guess what? she’s still out there, and she’s still closing in. think about it, man! that way you’re… doing what? you’re protecting what? sounds like you have just as much to lose either way, the landscape just looks different.”

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“What’s the point of all this anyways?” he asked himself, not quite knowing where it was coming from. Despite his semblance, and despite everything that he’d gone through, Qrow had never actually contemplated giving up before. But he couldnt quite shake the feeling of its not worth the struggle, join these other poor souls who’ve already let it all go.

He needed a drink. Maybe then those sorts of thoughts would stop plaguing him.

“She cant be stopped. The Relics arent the answer, and neither are the Maidens. What did we give up so much of our life for if there’s no end goal?”

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qrow has to admit to himself, it rings of truth in even in the scenario he just painted. always everything to lose, but a thousand different ways. his heart hurts. his head hurts. he’s tired. no choice seems to make a difference. no choice matters. he doesn’t have much of an answer for that one, just more muddy thoughts.

he presents the biggest dilemma of all, one everyone must face sooner or later. but still coaxing, leading, as gentle as that voice (beaten to shreds from screaming and crying out and burning his throat his whole damn life) can phrase. it is not a statement, nor concession. it is still a question, in want of an answer. even if he is not yet ready to find it.

“Salem or no Salem, what was ever the point of life if it just ends in death?”

but saying it is so hard. thinking about it is so hard. trying is so hard. he is tired, cold, and it is getting dark. he has to share his headspace with too many memories, and the sight of so many people he found in these buildings who look so disgustingly peaceful having laid down and given up, and too many encroaching shadows.

“…especially one as pathetic as yours.”

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“… My life’s never been that important. Especially not since the girls were born. Pathetic doesn't even begin to cover the bullshit we’ve been through.” Another outbuilding another set of corpses. At least Qrow had taken this responsibility on himself. The kids didn't need to see this, the didn't need to see the futility of everything they were doing in high def.

Again, dark thoughts seemed to press in with the shadows from sunset. He shivered, wondering why it still seemed so cold despite his aura being active. “I don't like this place. Something is super fucking wrong, even without the fact there’s no real reason these people should have died.” You cant leave, you cant struggle out there in the snow, the kids would never make it. Stay here, alone… No one will think to look for the Relic in such an isolated spot…

“… I don't like feeling like something is waiting to ambush us.”

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“…and yet you’re still here. hm.”

cold, slow, dark, tired. just like these bodies. it would be so very easy to join them. everything fades away, it is all just a matter of time. …and how much energy gets wasted in the meantime. that still sounds like a pretty good way to kill time until morning, too.

“something’s always wrong. something’s always waiting. especially with that relic around. what are you going to do about it?”

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For a moment, the desire for self-preservation flared up in Qrow. If something felt off to him now, then he had to check every nook and cranny just to make sure that’s all it remained. A feeling.

There had to be some sort of correspondence laying around. Some sort of hint as to what happened at this farm. What Qrow ended up finding was an advertisement for the Brunswick Wine Cellar.

“Suppose we could drink until the feeling goes away. Its probably nothing.”

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of course a farm would have a wine cellar. probably stocked to the nines too. feelings and intuitions are different, though. intuitions don’t drown as easily. but eventually…

“that would make it feel warmer for sure, huh?”

this is the last building on the farm. a wild goose chase, as everything, so far. dead bodies everywhere, lives gone for no purpose at all. but is it meaningless? there must be something. is it ever quite worth finding?

“don’t forget the kids are waiting for a report.”

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“Alcohol is probably in the main house anyways. Wouldn't want just anyone to have access to it.” Qrow mused, and before he turned away from the last corpse, he sighed. “Poor bastards. Wonder if anyone else will ever come by here.” He looked around once more, marveling at how pristine the farm was. Aside from the disuse, everything looked like it was waiting for the farmstead to wake up and get back to work.

“Surprised the Tribe or some other scavenger group hasn't come through here already. There’s lien even if they didn't take the equipment with them.”

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“hm.” as if anyone besides himself would care about the wine. they knew better.

the bitter conditions outside wouldn’t even allow for a proper burial. but maybe that was for the best. to simply let time stop and drift away, safe in bed, asleep, not being a burden to anyone in life, death, or beyond… never having to worry about carrying the pain or inflicting it on anyone else ever again.

everything feels tight and heavy and choking. qrow has to fight to even pay that much attention to his surroundings.

“yeah, that’s odd alright. but counterpoint - the picture’s all wrong to be inviting, no matter the loot. we don’t even want to be here.”

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“There’s still food in the cupboards, and all of these bodies just laying around.” Qrow insisted. the feeling of something wrong pressed on him, able to keep the thoughts of whats the point? at bay for just a little while longer. “You’d think that scavenger animals would have been through here, but there isnt even mouse droppings on anything.”

Nothing but layers of dust and some cobwebs. Qrow didnt think he’d ever been somewhere that had just turned into a vacuum before. “… If the storm lets up, we should leave at first light. The less time we’re here the better.”

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“not even dead animals along with the people. yeah, the answers have to be back at the house, if there are any.”

he definitely hadn’t seen anything like this. and usually new places were exciting. this, though, this is just exhausting. food, drink, people… anything was starting to sound better than being in the middle of all this by himself and fading.

“agreed. at some point, maybe we should scrounge some of those supplies you were talkin’ about. but… later.” ugh, even any points he could find hardly felt worth acting on.

[flightofaqrow]

turn away

qrow + Yang ( @boundariestcbreak​ ) [incomplete]

“... I’m sure Ruby already told you this, but you can talk to me if you need anything.”

but qrow has no intention of taking the offer. he knows no other way than working through it alone.

Yang stays next to him, whether he wants her there or not-because he really shouldn’t be alone right now.

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“Uncle Qrow?” Yang asked as she sat down next to him. “I couldn’t help noticing you took everything that happened at the farm…harder than the rest of us.” That was probably putting it mildly. “And I’m sure Ruby already told you this, but you can talk to me if you need anything.” In fact, she wanted him to do so. It was better than him facing it all alone.

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yeah. no duh. no kidding.

Yang’s words can’t say it any better than the throbbing in qrow’s head does, recovering from probably a fifth of the Brunswick wine cellar’s stock. still better to be louder than the throbbing in his heart; if his skull pounds so much to feel like exploding, it must mean the truth of the world doesn’t leave him so empty.

qrow has no need of externalizing anything. no, what helps is filling the trenches in his soul now left barren by Ozpin’s reveal. his whole life meaningless. flooding his veins with enough alcohol at least gives him bottles to cling to as he falls beneath the weight of it all.

no room for anything else in his brain, sunken into shoulders as he sinks into the couch. no thoughts spared to any other end, not even his niece right next to him.

“sure, Firecracker,” vermilion eyes slide to spare her the slightest glace before returning to gaze out the nearest window, “noted.”

but he has no intention of taking the offer. qrow knows no other way than working through it alone.

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Yang can already tell that he isn’t going to be in the most talkative of moods. But then, that really isn’t new for her uncle when he’s drinking and/or drunk, so she was kind of used to it. Still, she can’t help the way her stomach sinks a little at his words. Even the use of his nickname for her doesn’t make her feel any better about the situation.

She stays next to him, whether he wants her there or not-because he really shouldn’t be alone right now. But at least he manages to look at her first before looking out the window.

“Do you, want me to leave?” She asks, wondering if he can’t look at her because she looks like Raven. He’s the one who’s taken Ozpin’s reveal the hardest, she thinks-and rightfully so, given how much he’s done for the professor over the years.

She can’t imagine what that kind of bombshell drop would feel like, from someone you trusted so deeply, to know that they’ve kept something so crucial from you. She hadn’t reacted in anger, but she had been upset by the reveal.

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qrow has many moods when drunk. but usually that’s when alone or might as well be at a bar. or maybe actually having a good time with a drinking partner. not lately.

not now.

right now he drinks so he doesn’t have to talk or feel or think or remember at all, now that they’re settled in for the night. he chases away every awful gnawing feeling at his soul within this house and douses every flicker of anger in his brain of why lie with more wine.

“your call,” he lifts the bottle to his lips once again, clear he’s not intending to be of any good company. vermillion eyes affix through and beyond the window once more - if for any reason other than feeling more at home beyond walls, it’s being led by a habit qrow has of keeping an eye out for Raven, and not any need to turn away from the face of her daughter.

…even if turning away is still what he’s doing in the end.

he finishes the swallow and sighs, “though you probl’y shouldn’t be away from yr’team for too long.”

stay together.

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She sits next to him, not forcing him to talk, not touching him at all. She wants him to know she’s there for him, but she won’t force him to talk about what’s going on in his head if he doesn’t want to-and it clearly seems like he doesn’t, at all. But the downside of being the daughter of two very stubborn people-his former teammates, no less-meant that she wasn’t about to even consider getting up and walking away, even if he wanted to be alone. She hoped he knew that, but if he didn’t, he would soon enough-when she didn’t immediately get up and leave him to his brooding.

“They’ll be okay without me for a while. Besides, I have my scroll here for them to call me if they need anything.” She looked out at the landscape as she sat next to him.

“Can you tell me about when you first met Dad again?” Yang asked softly. If she couldn’t get him to open up about his current feelings, maybe she could steer the topic in a better direction.

[flightofaqrow]

playing around

qrow + Saphron Cotta-Arc ( @shcdeacademy​ )

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“ I don’t suppose you did this when Yang or Ruby were Adrian’s age, did you?” Saphron asked while Adrian was occupied with laughing and playing around with the bell.

“nah. my hair’s never been long enough to need it around my neck. however, i may have tied it to a string on the end of a stick and wedged it between the couch cushions.”

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Send “🔔” to put a bell around my muse’s neck

“ Is there a specific reason, you’re making me wear this Qrow? “

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qrow waits for a moment, until little baby Adrian in Saphron’s arms starts reaching for the bell now around his mom’s neck. soft tinkling emits from it as tiny hands entertain themselves.

now, he grins, “old trick, but a good one. it’ll keep him outta your hair for awhile. literally.”

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“ Thanks, that sure helps out a lot. Makes it a bit more easier now to do chores.” Saphron replied towards the ravenette with a smile. While letting out a giggle.

“ I don’t suppose you did this when Yang or Ruby were Adrian’s age, did you?” She asked while Adrian was occupied with laughing and playing around with the bell.

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he’s happy to help, and to see some smiling faces amid everything else.

“nah. my hair’s never been long enough to need it around my neck. however, i may have tied it to a string on the end of a stick and wedged it between the couch cushions.”

they’re not cats, qrow.

oh well. it worked. and it’s in the past.

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“ Thankfully I didn’t have to do that with Jaune, however my sisters on the other hand are a different story. “

Saphron replied towards the ravenette with small laugh. As she remembered all the times,  she had to pry her sister’s hands away from her hair whilst babysitting them. Fun times those were.

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qrow could barely handle having one sister. he can’t even imagine what the Arc family must have been like. although, maybe once the whole tribe was accounted for, it really wasn’t so different. how many braids had he done in his life? certainly countless.

“well, i don’t see any chunks missing from your scalp, so i guess it all survived, huh?”

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Saphron let out a small giggle from the other’s remark. “ Yea you can say that again, I have Jaune to thank for that. Since most of my siblings put most of their attention on him after he was born. You know tea parties, dress up, the works.”  

The blonde replied recalling the many times her sister would rather play with Jaune. Than with her, which was a blessing in disguise so that she’d have more time to help her parents around the house.

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“dress up, was a new one the girls taught me, i gotta admit.”

some manner of toys could be common across all cultures, even if materials might have changed the quality. plastic swords or sticks, robots or rag dolls. bandit games were more physical, competitive. the tea parties were real. he doesn’t speak of his past as if he felt anything had truly been missing, however, there wasn’t much room for make believe, especially when, “…didn’t grow up with enough extra clothes for all that.”

[flightofaqrow]

the Branwen twins had always been known for some flair, really. what an apt nickname. no reason to stop, when qrow fully accepts the consequences of continuing.

he laughs. the sound so sardonic, sodden with the full weight of sorrows, right before he takes that next sip, not tired of it at all, "quoth the Raven, 'nevermore'."

a statement that means likely little more than a quote to the other man, but so much more to qrow. ghosts continue to taunt him, and she was never coming back. he was truly just as haunted, and had both intentionally and accidentally done many of those things the Lieutenant is thinking of. quite recently nearly added his nieces to the roster of regrets.

he gets it. he doesn't make for very good company. never has, "...what exactly did'ja expect when joinin' a guy atta bar, pal?"

pretty words fall to shambles from their poetry this round, "guess i could go back 'ta callin' Ironwood an ass." it was the point of his first statement, really. and yet somehow, that's the person he's banging his head into walls trying to head to see next, "but... oh, oh... shhhhhh, can'let those lunkheads a'the gates hear that."

"Alright then, drama queen."

He doesn't mean it in a rude way, just a means of brushing off all the sudden gloom and sorrow. He's just never had much patience for self-pity. He has no doubt that, whatever Qrow's done to warrant this much drinking, he himself has probably done worse. Or at least more of it. Unless Qrow had accidentally killed a family member or friend, he didn't see what all of this was about. No judgement if he had, of course.

"Immuna call you 'Edgar Allen Qrow' if ya keep that up." he says, sipping from his own drink and critically eyeing the one staff has now brought Qrow--one he probably didn't need considering all that he'd already had. "He got smashed and wrote poetry too, yanno. Ain't you tired of sipping that crap yet?"

Look, far be it from him to schedule an intervention, he just liked it better when his newfound friend was saying stuff he could vibe with.

[flightofaqrow]

it's not the first time in his life qrow's been too stuck in his own head, memory, and misery to miss someone taking a shot. doesn't help that it's been a long time since anything actually went anywhere.

the guy's responses earn him a dry grunt in affirmative of attention, enough to pair with a sideglance, though qrow's not surprised. no one who looked that stacked and that tough and that mysterious, made a totally scrupulous living. no judgement.

"Wouldn' be very useful to anyone."

his head and wine red eyes drop towards the ground once more, giddy mood suddenly gone. he's not feeling particularly proud or useful these days, still a burden even at his best, otherwise he might actually be at home with his family and their friends, instead of here at this bar commiserating with new acquaintances, staying out of their way.

"we do what we gotta do," he parrots again, and swallows down what's left of his drink, clattering it back down maybe too harshly.

"if i stopped t'feel th' shame i'd drown'n it," he orders another round, as if that's not exactly what's happening in a different shade of blame.

Alright, so his attempt to flirt has bounced off, no biggie, can't land a bulls-eye every time. It's not a total loss, as he's not at all turned off by what would, to an ordinary person, probably be a pretty concerning admission of illegal activities. Qrow's not the only huntsman to stray off the beaten path, far from it when they essentially had freedom of employment.

"I can relate."

Results over method pretty much defines the person he's been since the age of 19. Getting his hands dirty was something he quite enjoyed, actually, but even if he didn't, he'd be willing to do it to get his people the rights, respect, and safety they deserved to have. The more Qrow talks, the more he seems like someone the Lieutenant could easily get along with, for a human.

"We do what we gotta do." he says.

"Not feelin' ashamed over it, are you?" he continues, an eyebrow coming up behind his mask. "Wouldn' be very useful to anyone."

[flightofaqrow]

yeah, well, dulling down his brain only loosens qrow's tongue. words still come through the path from one to the other from an educated mind. and melancholy demeanor only comes from burning passions, when constantly disappointed.

'live out loud.' qrow giggles as he processes the phrase. interest in that motorbike made sense, then - volume up to 11, don't know how to stop, bursting windows, busting heads, "yeah, tha' fits th' aesthetic," he doesn't realize he says out loud as he grins into his glass.

"...deviant side?" he parrots, and scratches his chin, this guy has no idea, but he's not about to go opening up about his past to a new person. though, even in the present... "well, les'jus' say in my line'a hun'sman work, sometimes th' results matter more'n th' method."

not to mention as a person, he's sitting here getting drunk while making eyes at a mammoth of a man wearing a mask. didn't seem like the kind of thing to scream mainstream.

(but it does keep him from thinking too hard on how those results haven't exactly been flowing lately.)

Oh, so he's hammered.

Weird how he didn't notice the slur before, but he supposes spiels like this can really only come from the impassioned, drunk, or both. In vino veritas, as they say, or maybe he wasn't usually like this. Nonetheless, Qrow is endlessly entertaining. It's quite something to hear someone sopping wet drunk using words like 'propriety' and 'deviances'.

" 'Save your deviances for when it's important', couldn't be me." he says, having a conservative sip from his own tumbler. "I live out loud, mostly. I think." He's more of an all-out brawler, not someone with the patience to navigate propriety. After all, if you couldn't be proper and free at the same time, why bother? That said...

"You tellin' me you got a deviant side, Qrow?"