#chainedbytime

@chainedbytime

Roman furrows a pensive brow; whether the other side held the same expression remains to be seem, however, he finds that irrelevant in the face of a rush of concern.

Nightmares are sordid things, he muses, twisting events which have either happened, have never happened, or will happen, and in that scope of nightmareish hellscape, it’s always difficult to discern between the three.

A hand plucks the mug from Ozpin’s fingers, his tired grip of a man ever-so-slightly defeated by his own exhaustion. He sets the mug gently down onto the table. Roman’s voice comes soft, quiet, and ultimately more careful than he thinks himself capable of being.

ozpin was always good company. in fact, he’d stay there and listen to her read all day in foreign languages if that’s what she was going to be doing at the occult shop when he passed by. she enjoyed a quiet time like that.

Ruby wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or concerned that Ozpin was being blase about her misfire, but wouldn’t think of it for very long. What she should have been thinking about was why they were both out here this late in the evening. The air was brisk, but not cold enough to bother her.

“Sir, can I ask what we’re doing?” She stage whispered, glancing from left to right. “This isn’t what I was expecting we’d be doing for... this.”

Should she really have been surprised? Professor Ozpin vaulted first years into the Emerald Forest off of a cliff for initiation. This may have been the more ordinary of things to do for the Headmaster. Keeping Crescent Rose close, but safe from the risk of friendly fire, Ruby kept a closed space between herself and Ozpin. Stories of Grimm that picked on hiking parties that happened to be spaced out too far apart filled her mind.

A brief smile from Ozpin as she spoke, though he refrained from getting up from where he had sat before - his wounds acting up enough to prevent sudden movement. “I would like to think I merely gave you the push that you needed to make your future a better one.”

Blake huffed, a sound that could have been a laugh if it didn’t sound so hollow and broken.

“If that’s what you want to believe.” She settled on, taking a deep breath. “Where’s your teapot?” Blake asked. She knew she was leaving. She couldn’t stay, not when she’d done the one thing she wanted to avoid and put people in danger just by being around. And she was never one for tearful goodbyes. So instead, she’d have tea with Ozpin a final time before she left.