THE FAINT AROMA OF RECENTLY BREWED TEA fills the room , reaching the open window that a crow had just so recently flown through , the flutter of its wings similar to the beating of ozpin’s heart ( something mortal that he is so often wont to forget ) . the beginnings of a smile grace his lips as he moves to pour qrow a cup of tea , pushing the mug towards the opposite side of his desk where a chair had been pulled up . his words are undeniably gentle , observatory , though the edge they produce may be considered teasing in nature . ❛ ---- you’re late . ❜
@crowfates / QROW BRANWEN .











