#~~rwby

— @meloraan cont from here!

A glisten of green aura flickered over Oscar’s tired body as he lowered himself to his knees, propping his weight up into ‘his’ cane. His sparring partner was…really capable. Really capable. So capable that even when he rested he could feel his chest heaving with breath, urging him to take more than one second of a break. That and the voice in his head, critiquing his less than perfect stance and jumping techniques.

Contrary to popular belief, Oscar was not a skilled backflipper up until two days ago. Oh! Also, he had never fought anyone up until a few weeks ago.

“Thank you…” he spoke, albeit breathlessly. The boy just as soon wiped his forehead of sweat, pushing back his bangs to--blegh, his hair felt so stringy! "Okay...okay, I'm ready." He lifted himself once more, before-- "Oomph-!" --before falling back to his knees, chest heaving with breath.

Activating your aura more consistently will aid in stamina preservation. He knew that. Doesn't Ozpin think he knew that??

"....I...." He huffed. "...need a second, sorry..."

@solxr-flare asked: “why am i encouraging this? don’t do this.” (student Glynda and Ozpin trust)

"Oh, don't be so high-strung. When have I ever led you astray?"

Hands folded gently over the underclassman's cane, a disarming smile plastered onto his pale complexion. Since the day he’d stepped foot in this academy, his wild ideas had somehow, impossibly, worked. Every scheme, every reckless flash of brilliance—each had landed exactly where he meant it to. Probability was on his side in this one. Statistically.

"We are good students, Glynda. The professors expect as much from us." His gaze slipped to the rather large cage resting on his desk. "Bringing a grimm for our demonstration—so long as we ensure it’s secure—would do wonders for our presentation. It’s bold, yes, but isn’t boldness what this academy encourages? Forever Fall hasn’t proven a match for us before… not when we’ve stood together."

He then pushed his glasses up, and returned his gaze to his cautious cohort. "What do you say? I think it'll be a wonderful teaching moment!"

@missallanea asked: ❝ sleep is a luxury i can’t afford right now. ❞ / Raven @ Tai?

"Then let me share some of the weight."

Anything to stop her from pushing him away again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand—Raven had always kept her distance, and in many ways, he’d let her. Which...did that make him part of the problem? At least it didn’t feel like begging this time, even though, deep down, they both knew that’s exactly what it was. He had learned long ago that offering his wife a shoulder to lean on was like offering a cushion to needles, and a hand to hold was little more than dead weight to her. But still…Taiyang couldn’t just let her pull away without trying.

"Come to bed," he said steadily. "Whatever you're working on, we can finish it together." His voice was stable, despite the tiredness of repetition tugging at him, as he slowly circled the table. There was no rush—he didn’t want to crowd her, but he couldn’t stay in the periphery any longer.

...there was nothing like confronting your wife in the same way one would confront a wild animal. Or, more accurately, a cat with it's hackles raised.

"I'll make us something to eat. Sound good?"

— @solxr-flare asked: “I do hate zombies and I will have nightmares about this tonight. But in this moment I just feel like I’m surrounded by friends.” (Ruby @ Oscar lmao)

           “…huh?”

           Oscar blinked halfway—followed by the other eye, in what could only be described as a ‘frog blink’. It seemed that, even with the apathy gone, the fog remained…only to be cured with some well-deserved rest. Not that Oscar wanted to sleep at all after this. He wasn’t sure that anyone would find time to rest, despite the plentiful amount of trip they had left till arrival at Argus.

           “…oh, yeah. Right.” A hand fell behind the boy’s neck. “The apathies. Um…” he blinked again. “I’m glad you feel like you’re with friends. I…don’t know if I can say the same. Right now, at least.”

           “You’re…taking all of this pretty well, actually. Better than the others.” Oscar would probably prefer the zombies than the friends at this point.

“I envy your tenacity, Miss Rose—but do try not to let it get you killed.”

Ozpin set his mug down with a soft clink against the wood of his desk. A smile ghosted across his lips—first absent, thoughtful… then amused, as if humored by some secret joke. His head tilted faintly, the expression on his face seemingly…enlivened. “Charging headfirst into the maw of danger may feel noble, even necessary, but I assure you: the Grimm are not impressed by bravery. Only by blood.” He waved a hand lightly in the air, as though dismissing a puff of smoke. “Your views on them are expected—appreciated, even. But perhaps we might explore a slightly less desperate, more deliberate course of action?”

“I trust you with these missions,” he continued, folding one hand neatly over the other. “Perhaps I’d trust you even more if you didn’t dive in axe-rifle blazing. You are one of a kind. A flame I cannot relight if it goes out.”

He adjusted his glasses with a practiced touch, the glint of the lens catching the light. “Death does not save lives. Strategy does. Caution. Time. Discretion, Miss Rose.”

A pause. A beat.

Ozpin rose from his seat with a rustle of his clothes, ever composed yet never stiff, and offered her a look more playful than the moment seemed to warrant. “Now then. Enough grim talk about Grimm. How do you take your coffee?”