normalcy.

          He expected that, really. Ozpin bows his head a tad to cast a shadow over his own features that didn’t belong to him, pulling the strings of his shirt a bit more taut. He had managed a scarf, a sweater, but it’s not like he can get a new head altogether. ( well, he could, but he’d have to put this in a place that no one would look. ) Bodies are such fragile, needy things, but the act of getting protective over them was always inevitable. Most only had one, after all. He had broken Oscar’s code simply by existing.

          “ Just like home, hm? “ The statement flies unsteadily, with the older testing the waters. “ The world is so much more vexingly magical than even I could have anticipated. “ A tentative step. They both hear the crunch of snow underneath the balls of his feet. “ … I know where you can get some warmer clothes, if that will help you. “

  Oscar takes a moment to look over Ozpin’s attire, finding a brief amount of discomfort in his fashion. It doesn’t look right to him. Perhaps it’s due to how use to his own wardrobe he is, what with refusing to look like an old man before he hits his mid-teens, but there’s also a distinct amount of relief that comes with it. Aside from the body, they don’t look entirely alike; fingers trail to fiddle with the strings on his own shirt, though he does nothing further with them.

@soulsustained

“Man, I was kinda curious how they were growing stuff in this weather, but I shouldn’t be surprised I’d find one of you in here, should I?”

Yang’s question is said dully, as she’s unsure how she feels about who she’s speaking to just yet. At least the Glassgreen is warmer than it is outside, so even if this is Ozpin again she won’t have to deal with him in the freezing weather again. Still, the greenery isn’t much of an improvement to Yang’s mood.

“Is that you, farm boy? Or am I stuck with the absentminded professor again?”

She makes no secret of which one she wants it to be, rolling her eyes when she mentions Ozpin. But if it is Oscar… Ozpin had said he was okay, but it wasn’t like she was going to believe him so easily with his track record. He’d tell her Oscar was fine even if he knew the kid was gone if it was more convenient for him that she didn’t know, or if he thought it would be kinder even if it was important.

She hopes it is Oscar.

  Oscar nearly jumps out of his skin as Yang’s voice breaks the almost silence of him messing around. His shoulders are hunched and he’s slow to turn around, visibly relaxing as his heart rate drops back to a (close to) normal pace.

  He blinks for a moment at the question about whether he’s Ozpin or not, eyebrows furrowing and the edge of his lip quirking down. Right, they’re twins here; speaking with someone other than the man himself lets that truth of his life sink in further.

  “ It’s farm boy, ” he responds, turning back around and going back to work in silence. Oscar isn’t one for conversation, in the end. However… company was important, especially since all he’s had thus far in this wasteland was… y’know.

  You ever just get floored by a package? It’s embarrassing. 

  Oscar lays on the ground for several moments, eyes shut as he lets the pain in his face ebb away before getting up. The package sits only inches away and, head canting in confusion, he stares at it. Who even sent him a gift? Why?

  With an air of caution, he tears it open and... lets his shoulders sag. He’s careful to lift the fabric, studying it closely before spotting his name embroidered in it. 

  He can’t stop the smallest of smiles from quirking the edge of his lips. A weak laugh as he wraps it around his neck, shifting it about so the piece where his name shows faces out.

          This isn’t good. Being in the other’s head was its own hell, but sharing the same features and aesthetics? Quietly, he picks out all the peculiar details of the other’s outfit, tries to dig deep into his own mind to remember the boy’s preferences. A shopping trip was definitely needed in the future, once he got his bearings. 

          “ I don’t know. “ Ozpin states in a surprising moment of truth, letting out a sigh. “ It is… a perplexing turn of events. I wish I could change it. “

          That’s putting it lightly. Carefully rehearsed thoughts begins to slow his heart rate, forcing it to stay calm as hands fold behind his back. More than anything, he needs to show who he is. Oscar deserves at least that much. ( Or, at least, that’s what his mind is telling him. ) “ I… Haha. “ I know that you’re not fine.

                    “ Out of every tale I’ve heard, I never did believe in this one. “

  “ So do I. ”

  There’s a harshness beneath the words despite the mumble that they present themselves in. It’s uncomfortable, insanely so. Oscar looks at Ozpin for only a moment longer, tearing his eyes away to place his gaze in any spot aside from the one in front of him. He wants out of this conversation immediately, but… that isn’t an option, is it?

  One hand clasps around the opposite arm, posture shifting to rest more on one foot than the other. He wants to go home; back to the farm, back to his aunt, where he could tend to the farm and walk his own path instead of being dragged down one he cannot fathom the age of.

( @soulsustained, i suppose we are fated to be together in some way. )

          He didn’t realize that he forgot what he looked like until Jinn had showed him.

          That’s right, his hair was dark brown before, body armored to the teeth and holding that damned scepter. It isn’t visible under his clothes, but he remembers the mole that sat ever so slightly above his navel to the left, that one scar from the time a Nevermore almost ripped his arm off hidden below his shirt. It’s all so familiar, yet… Not at all. Hm. Ozma, wasn’t it? Perhaps that was his name, once.

          The immortal isn’t quite sure what to call himself now, whatnot with the much smaller stature and distinct lack of glasses. Ozpin had grown to be a role that he was particularly fond of, and, well. It’d be wrong, right? To take the name of the one standing right before you.

          “ Oscar. “ the doppelganger says with a lilt of hesitation, before nodding his head in greeting. There’s a tenseness that he wishes with all of heart he could dissipate, but that must be impossible when they’re both looking into a mirror like this. Still, his voice is calm, soft. 

                                                            “ How are you? “

  It’s odd, how hollow one’s mind can feel when their head-space becomes personal once more.

  Those days of silence, of Ozpin whisking himself away to… wherever return fully in an empty sense. Has he truly vanished? Has this new place completely freed him of the destiny that was thrust upon him? … He doubts it. Hoping in such a way that he can start to fix his path, gain some semblance of control over where life is taking him again while still helping--

  Oscar would only end up disappointed. He knows it.

  He swallows when his mirror image speaks, gloved fingers curling and uncurling slowly as if to remind himself that he’s the true Oscar Pine. A familiar tone of voice is his indicator of who the doppelganger is, though it isn’t like there would be many other choices.

oscar pine | rwby

please don’t confuse him for ozpin, he’s had Enough of it already

talk to him about history or books he’ll go ham

stress is bad for the baby

he’s a farmhand !! let him help you carry things!!

has a tendency to be a lil snippy at times. he apologizes in advance

world cold and hard, blankets and old clothing soft and kind of warm