#sunlitfeathers

@sunlitfeathers​ (Qrow) sent:  “You’re not alone.”

He knew that but right now, that was the last thing he wanted to hear... especially from Qrow. “That’s rich coming from you,” his voice biting as he snapped back, the teeth of the dragon bared. “You come and go as you please, fly in and out of here, in and out of our lives at your whim...”

Tai was angry, clearly, and hurt. “At least Raven just left, didn’t play this game... but you... I thought I could still depend on you not to bail out, to actually stick around. Yang doesn’t seem to notice but Ruby... Ruby ADORES you and when you vanish she NOTICES Qrow, and it hurts her. Don’t you think at least THAT is a good enough reason not to treat this house, this FAMILY, like just another stop on the list?”

It wasn’t as if the business relationship between Roman and Ironwood was particularly heavy on giving or taking, and, hell, Roman would argue that the two of them were both winning via their own dealings with each other, and to think, it’d all started in a prison. Morsel by tantilising morsel, Roman had fed Ironwood information, waiting for him to clamour and squirm before rewarding him with something likely to assist him. After all, there was little merit in continuing in a world which might not even exist soon; no, there was far more in it for him if he ended up a free man, in a world still alive, hale, without the heart torn from its vessel.

With that all said, though–it wasn’t that the redhead knew a particularly large amount about plans. Whisperings of extremism reached his ears, and by his whim, they reached Ironwood’s, although Roman was careful in how he parted with this information, whether it be gathered through underground meetings helmed by so, so many, or a one-on-one meeting wherein he simply heard too much from the wrong corner, he always had insurance. There would always be other people to throw under the bus. All this, in exchange for relative freedom.

He couldn’t say he was entirely grateful, being rendered little more than a spy in the General’s extensive itinerary, yet he felt a certain obligation, a certain tugging at his heartstrings when, after an assignment one overcast evening, he was asked whether he’d like to stay for a drink–just the one, however. Sheepishly, Roman nodded towards the looming figure of the General.

“And you’re sure this ain’t just to woo me?”

Ironwood’s brow furrowed.

“Roman, why–why do you say these things?”

A prior uncertain frown became a sly smirk.

“ ‘cause. I feel like it. Gets under your skin, and there’s nothin’ you can do about it.”

“… I’m truly starting to regret inviting you for this drink, Torchwick.”

And so, Roman peered up at the other man, stretching an arm out, jabbing his index finger directly into centre of the General’s forehead, which (to Torchwick’s surprise) earned little more than the tiniest flinch.

“C’mon, James. It’s the least we could do. After all, we’re such good friends, aren’t we? The best of buddies.”

“Roman, I freed you from prison since you were being a nuisance, but mostly–because I was sure you would behave. Not because we’re friends.”

“Ohh, but you do admit you feel a lil’ fondness for me. Ah, warms the heart. Almost makes up for you taking up my free time.”

James sighed.

“Your entire life is free time now.”

“Guess so. Still, I can give you some good company this evening. No harm admitting that we’re both lonely men pushing forty, so… yeah. A drink would be nice, I think. Maybe we can talk about somethin’ other than Atlas’s underbelly for once though, right?”

“Mmn. Maybe.”

“S’all ‘take, take, take’ with you, ain’t it.”

The General’s prior stern expression was threatened by what could very nearly be considered a smile, or–something–which tugged at the sides of his face, crow’s feet at those deep blue eyes. It was almost refreshing, the manner one Roman Torchwick took with him. Next to nobody outside of his inner circle dared speak to him with anything other than reverence, and even they weren’t equipped with Roman’s sharp wit, and sharper tongue.

“Perhaps. I am giving you a drink though, aren’t I? Does Scotch suit your tastes?”

There was a shrug, it wasn’t for Roman to judge, although the strength of flavour often left his palette clamouring for something a little smoother, but then again… If James drank it, it was more like to be top-shelf.

“Sure, Jim. Go for it. We gonna continue this in your office, or…?”

“It’s James. And…” It was with that moment that the older man looked out at cloudy night, chilly and unwelcoming, and it appeared as if those clouds were straining under the weight of snow, to which his body prickled in horrid anticipation of even worse weather. His gaze met with the fireplace in an otherwise modern office, then said gaze caught the ex-convict’s face illuminated by fire, freckles stood against pale skin. It’d be a shame for darkness to obscure those features, James reckoned, left without the conviction to erase the intrusive thought from his mind. His voice softened, and he continued.

NOW THAT I’VE MET REJU PROPERLY:

What another swell Canadian to have run into on the internet. Surprisingly there aren’t a lot of us around. Never mind within such close proximity to each other.

Anyway Reju is a little hummin’bean. Always anxious, always thinkin’ about other people, a tough guy. Despite all the anxiety, he still keeps on truckin’. We fellow anxious Canadian nerds gotta stick together. Truly. I didn’t really give much thought to Barty and then Reju comes along and BAM! Suddenly I got the cares. Not many people can do that, let me tell you. pls send barty at dunstan i beg you

Then his Tai/Qrow blog. Embraces the ridiculousness of them both. It’s lovely. Though someone has to talk to Tai about his choices in fashion. Incredibly criminal, Mr. Xiao Long.

"Is the 'Xiao Long Smash' a sex move or an experience?"