#hehhheee

A carnival, masquerade party, a congregation of a secret society where everyone is cloaked/masked…any sort of fancy-ish function that involves people having their faces and bodies obscured…

Whumpee, for some reason, is taken to the party together with their captors. Everyone assumes they’re an ordinary guest that’s just too shy to talk and move around much, because their cloak goes over their tied up hands and ankles(loose enough to slowly walk, tight enough to restrain from running) and the well-fitting mask, strapped to their face, obscuring the duct tape across their mouth

Title: winter’s end Pairing: qrow/winter Warning: mentions of blood and death

He had let himself believe there was no one left to lose.

“There’s blood everywhere. This is incredibly unhygienic.” She mumbled, her words slurring together.

Winter reached and clumsily attempted to pry Qrow’s hands from the wound. He grit his teeth and smacked her hand away. He had been working furiously to staunch the bleeding, using anything he could think of in an attempt to dress the wound and clean it.

“Stop that. You’re bleeding out and there’s too much damage for your aura to heal-” He told her, forcing the heel of his palm over her slick skin. 

A portion of her jacket had been ripped and pressed against her stomach and that had done well until it became soaked through. When fabric no longer became a viable option to cleanse, Qrow stripped his jacket and rested it over her abdomen.

He looked over his shoulder, towards the thicket of trees he had hid them behind. Their position was compromised and every second they sat here they were open to attack.

“Shit, Winter.” He cursed, looking back down to her.

Her skin was covered in a thin film of sweat, taking on a sickly shade of white. He looked down at his hands and felt bile rise in her throat. Blood was wet and thick on his skin, beneath his fingernails and soaking through- he tore his gaze away and looked at her face. Her lips were pressed thin, just as pale as the rest of her.

Her eyes were half lidded, head lolling to one side. She would be losing consciousness soon.

“Hey, Ice Queen, eyes on me, got it?” He ordered. He raised a blood crusted hand to pat her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open, brow pinching in irritation.

“Do not tell me what to do.” She muttered, groggily.

“Have you ever been stabbed before this?” He asked her, frowning.

“Of course not.”

“Then shut up and listen to the expert.” He ordered.

“Getting a few flesh wounds hardly makes you an expert.” She muttered, eyes casting down to study her wound closely.

Her teeth grit and she inhaled sharply when she attempted to sit up. Qrow brought a hand quickly to curl around her back and help her.

“Easy.” He warned.

“I know.” She groused, nose wrinkling. She waved dismissively in his general direction and if the situation hadn’t been so dire Qrow might have laughed at her.

Her hand rested on her stomach and she probed gently at the hole in her abdomen. She cringed.

“Ow.” She groaned.

“Yeah, don’t do that. Now hold still.” He crouched beside her and hooked one arm around her middle and the other beneath her legs.

She let out a soft gasp when he lifted her up. He felt her tense in his arms, fingers clenching his jacket in her fists.

“Easy.” He murmured. “I’m going to get you back.”

“This is slightly humiliating.” She admitted, voice muffled against his neck.

“If you stay awake I promise not to tell anyone.” He bargained, adjusting her just slightly. Her forehead pressed to his throat. She was clammy now.

“Mm.”

“Hey, talk to me.” He nudged her gently.

Her eyes squeezed shut, her head pounding.

“I don’t know what to t-talk about.” Her voice was thick now and he silently prayed her lungs weren’t filling with fluid.

“Weiss. Tell me about Weiss.” He said, looking down at her.

Her eyes opened, now red rimmed and dilated. She smiled, just a small curl of her lip.

“She was…such an ugly baby.” She began, her smile growing wider. “I was so angry at my parents for bringing her home. She would scream f-for hours and I-”

She coughed, her chest heaving. It had a hard and wet sound to it. Her hand clasped at her mouth and when she brought it away there was a thick, dark substance on her fingers.

“Oh.”

The fluid dribble at the corner of her lip and she wiped it with her sleeve. She grimaced at the stain.

“That’s certainly not a good sign.” she said, hoarsely.

“Shut up and focus on your breathing.” he ordered. He hated how the panic was clear in his voice. His heart hammered in his chest and he forced himself forward, careful not to jostle Winter in his arms.

“I tried to call Ozpin but we’re out of range. It should be just a little farther.” he told her.

She nodded solemnly.

She tilted her head towards his chest and rested her forehead there. He could feel her breath against his skin and focused on the heaving rasp of her breathing rattling in her chest and throat.

Both were silent for some time, until Qrow skid to a stop. He set her gently down onto the grass. His hand curled around her cheek and he smiled at her. She returned it with a feeble little grin.

He dug out his scroll from his pocket and dialed Ozpin.

“Qrow, where on Oum have you been-” Glynda shouted immediately.

“I need an evacuation right now. Winter is injured.” he cut in. He gave her a way glance and saw that she had brought her hands to rest over his jacket, fingers threaded together. 

There was harsh murmuring in the background and Qrow recognized Ironwood’s stern voice.

“We are sending help now. What injuries has Ms. Schnee sustained?” Ironwood asked.

“Death stalker stab to the stomach. She’s lost a lot of blood.” Qrow responded, shortly.

He heard Ironwood curse under his breath.

“She’s-”

Qrow turned to her again, mouth open to tell her the news

“No!”

The scroll hit the ground with a dull thud and Qrow darted to Winter’s side. He propped her head up, pressed his thumb and forefinger to her wrist in search of a pulse.

When he found nothing he dropped her hand, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. Qrow’s eyes burned and he shut them quickly blinking rapidly in an attempt to dissuade the tears from falling.

He had let himself believe there was no one left to lose.

He had become too damn comfortable, let himself be happy, let himself believe that he had chance-