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As a huntsman, swinging Harbinger had become second nature to Qrow. Every motion and movement was lithe and fluid, each one having a purpose. For common onlookers who watched as he sparred his opponent, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary with his form. But to those closer to him would notice something wrong. His usually blinding speed in which he handled his scythe seemed sluggish, his movements almost sloppy.

For a while, Qrow had been doing fine now that he had quit drinking. In fact, he even felt some clarity with being sober, although he wasn't even sure the last time he could actually recall being sober for this long. But this sobriety wasn't without a few drawbacks. He had gotten so used to alcohol in his system to keep him going, he hadn't quite realized the effects it would have when quitting cold turkey until he was in the midst of his sparring session.

Tremors were the first thing he noticed. Normally steady hands now held a steady shake to them. It was easy to ignore at first, but they were slowly getting stronger the longer he went without drinking. He knew they would pass, but he wasn't sure how long that would take. After that began the fatigue and headaches. It was harder to hide the tiredness in his eyes and the twinges of pain on his face with each headache.

“...” The young girl would stare at the strangers crossing the dash, eyes lingering on the animal ears sticking up on their heads and the tails sprouting from their backsides. After several moments of silent staring, with a tilt of her head, she would speak up to address them.

A sharp gasp was sucked in as Deku practically jolted himself out of the bed, sweating, shaking, heart wildly pumping. Another night, another nightmare.

... It.. is a nightmare, right? Gods, not even he could tell anymore.

He stumbled through the dark corridors, eventually making his way outside in a haste as if failing to do so would endanger everyone. Deku was able to go just far enough to collapse next to the guild’s water fountain out in the front. With the full moon, he was able to see himself in his reflection: huffing, shaken, a look of devastation on his face. He’s still himself, right?

... Right?

Frantic, he threw off his garb before looming over the water again. There, right in the middle of his chest, was the massive scar from where he was killed by the alchemists. The wound they used to turn him against everyone.

... No runic markings. No sign of any spell reactivating. Just him, his scar, and the strange tattoo over his heart.

Deku finally slumped to the ground, tremors still invading his body. He rested his head on his arms by the forehead as they folded in front of him against the fountain’s ledge. Beads of sweat still peppered the sides of his face. It was taking some effort to regulate his breathing. Every night, those dreams haunt him, dreams where it was either him back in the alchemists’ hold, or a supposed vision of the future where he’s gone and killed everyone in the guild.

Gods, he can’t ever let that happen... He feels like such a threat.

When it came down to events, and speaking engagements, the entirety of the workforce behind the Blue Angels, knew where to put Jay Jay, with kids. So with the mock up versions of the planes they use in pre-flight meetings to go over formations in hand, he was placed with kids, and was left to his own devices. That meant, that currently he was performing a quadruple barrel roll while his kid counterpart was excitedly telling him what to do in a chaser plane, and two other kids cheered them on, one of which was clutching the Fat Albert model like it was a teddy bear that they were not leaving without.