over and over.

“ the nights had been so dreadfully long before, weren’t they? i’m shocked at how it can still be considered unwelcome to me. “

a sudden presence, a quiet arrival. ever quiet and excessively prone to sneaking around, maybe qrow had noticed him when he had entered the vicinity, instead taking no action to escape when the immortal had closed in on him. something about the ex-headmaster seems a tad jovial despite the negativity of his observations, his gaze following the path downwards of a single flake of snow as it passed him by. “ but i suppose a somewhat unbalanced cycle of the sun cannot quite compare to the world outright refusing to acknowledge it. “ there’s a popping noise, ozpin not missing a single beat ( much like usual, though that doesn’t mean that his tendencies are anything desirable ), as the two old friends share a silence as old as time, watching the wind gently push the flakes of snow along their way. as he lets out a rather lengthy sigh, his breath rises in tandem with the steam of another, him holding the attached thermos cup out to the bird, filled to a reasonable amount with a sweet smelling ambrosia.

well, maybe hot chocolate seems fitting for his size compared to coffee, who knows. with the slightest narrowing of his eyes, the man looks up, smirk growing into something a bit softer.

“ at least i have the fortune of being able to weather it with someone familiar. “

he had been contemplating this earlier, and with this reveal then perhaps it’s finally happened: he’s finally landed in hell.

no, no, he knows that isn’t true. the gods of any world he’s been a part of seem much too cruel to allow him to enter such a place, instead inviting him into purgatory eternal and telling him to make his own despair. they were all so very alike like that.

the curve of the woman’s hair tied up in twin buns, the long sweeping cloth of an inken dress, the deep veins that traveled up stark white arms-- why, he knows them all too well. he held those hands, once. it had been such a long time ago, yet somehow the memory makes him tug at his gloves some, fingers curling as his boot scuffs against the floor behind him. 

maybe the past few months have taught him something of spontaneity, how chance can wriggle its way into any plan one can make and snap it to pieces just like that. what to do, what to do...

well.

“ how fitting. “ he ventures forward, not sparing even a moment to introduce himself as he takes a step forward, hands tucked behind his back as he tries his best to seem tall-- tall despite all the death and misery that stains his hands, all the failures that clung to his back with serrated hooks. “ adding yet another layer of triviality to make this meeting completely useless, as always. “ with a slight tilt of his head and a hollowed look, somehow, in this moment, his shadow seems so long compared to the boy whose footsteps he had stolen. he seems... tired.

“ hello, salem. “

gods, if that wasn’t the understatement of the millennia. 

buddy are you ok

qrow i thought you KNEW me. what the hell

yeah i miss my solitasian coffee maker too.

bro i am just chillin. here’s a starter call: uncapped!

He looked exhausted, battered, trampled—the weight of the festival, and perhaps more. She couldn’t blame him one bit. Primrose herself probably gave off the same aura. No matter how much she tried to hold appearances, it was always a little easier to let it go around him.

“It has been a while.”

A kid who reminded her of herself, for better or for worse. She gave a smile, and sat down on her own bed. He seemed to be doing alright, despite his appearance.

“As right as the situation allows. I’ve been helping out as much as I can—I’m one of the few with healing powers. Quite draining.”

“Not the kindest start to a new season.” She sighed. She was unusually tired, but it was nice to chat with a friend. Or, if not a friend, someone that she could let her guard down around.

“How about you? I can’t imagine you staying cooped up all day. Look at yourself.” She gestured at him, obviously pointing out his cuts and bruises.

          “ we’ve both had our hands full lately. “ he says, slowly, as if searching for the words to say. “ both in... quite different places. “ healing powers? he had never considered her the type-- but he should have never made assumptions in the first place. “ mm. i can imagine your exhaustion. “ 

          primrose was a firm person. oz knows this. he had sensed a kindred spirit within her since their very first encounter-- so hearing that both of them had been more on the overworked side surprisingly pushes him to let out a small laugh. “ ... and i can’t say that i’m not tired myself. “ a deep sigh. 

Qrow still isn’t too much of a festival guy, but he’s trying to make more of an effort. It’s not as though he can really return to just toasting them all down the drain anymore, but these days that’s not bothering him as much. In fact it’s all been kinda peaceful, which unnerves the huntsman just a bit. Instincts keep him on edge. All this can’t last forever. Something’s gotta give eventually.

So at least all this celebrating is something to keep his mind busy. Even found something he’s pretty good at, fighting. Sure it’s the formal ‘points’ type of fighting, but he can manage that if he tries. The huntsman tosses the wooden blade from hand to hand, getting used to its size and weight. Yep, he’s got this. Casually he rests it against his shoulder and turns to meet who he’s facing. Qrow can’t imagine too many opponents he’d have too much trouble with either, no offense to the good people of Eido-

Oh.

Surprise gives way to a sense of satisfaction and anticipation. Alright then, this’d be a whole lot more interesting than originally thought. A chuckle escapes him.

“Me too, but you better keep on your toes there Oz.”

Also it’s just good to see the guy smile for once- like genuinely. Been a while. Sort of a relief. He falls into a starting position; better keep his form up.

“Hate to school the old Headmaster.”

A bell rings; Qrow uses a lunge to cut to the chase.

          it seems like the bird is happy to see him as well, something that scrambles around in his head and repeats the same phrase of “ it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine “, because it is fine, or, at least, he’s trying to make it to be. clearly, the avoid-and-abstain method had not been the best approach ( something that still perplexes him, but if qrow had to explain it again he might have to start digging his own grave ), so would something more amicable actually turn out well? maybe. 

          ( in the depths of his heart, he hopes so. ) 

          almost lazily, he rolls his wrist and lets the blade sway from side to side, taking a few confident strides to see his opponent head on. with a rather defiant glint in his eyes, so too does ozpin lower himself into proper battle posture. qrow was one of the best huntsman out there. just because he was a few thousand years old doesn’t mean that he’d win automatically.

          “ we’ll see. “

          but if he didn’t act like he would, then he’d be hurting his pride, wouldn’t he? 

     despite of it being springtime even indoors blackbird found herself struggling to stay warm. thankfully, while she’s helping herself to a mug of freshly made hot cocoa, her focus abruptly shifts from the cold seeping through her clothes to the door creaking open.

      a boy, who looks positively exhausted, walks in. not by standard means— it’s about this looming presence within. something foreign & yet so familiar. it takes her a moment, but when it finally clicks it stings like hell. 

     it’s the same feeling she gets when crossing paths with a carciphona: heavy, like a burden. but he’s not one, that much she can tell without a doubt. he’s her roommate, or even a friend if she could bring herself to stop reading too much into unspoken lines. 

          ‘ hey there, roomie ! ’  she waves, still standing next to the stove where it’s warm.  ‘ how’s the weather today? wait, don’t tell me— cold as hell? ha ha ! don’t mind me, don’t mind me!! terrible ice breaker aside, here’s an actual question: you like hot cocoa? cuz i just made some. ’

          ‘ roomie ‘?

          so another had joined their ranks. ozpin closes his eyes and breaths out through his nose. it feels as if people come and go all the time now. wishes were needed, wishes were lost, wishes were put in all sorts of places when people didn’t even know whether or not they would come true. such things are superstitious, it isn’t good practice to put your belief into faith. as the wizard begins to take off his jacket, he gives a nod of acknowledgement to the newcomer.

          such sharp silver eyes. such thing would have given him pause had the moment been any different-- but he lets his curiosity free for a single, lingering glance, before his own narrow in a smile. not everything is about remnant, he has to remind himself. he’s been here long enough to death with that, right?

          right.

‘Pardon?’ 

Qrow scoffs. Wow, he’s even gonna play dumb about it, huh? Red eyes roll, before he turns back to shoot back. 

“Oh don’t give me that shit, Ozpin. You-” … Are still sitting on the floor. Incredulity raises a brow. He looks genuinely lost. What the *fuck*? No. This has to be another trick, another lie. There’s no way in hell this guy is that dense. Keep your guard up. Arms cross.

“I mean I have better things to worry about than wondering whether or not you’re just saying things to say shit,” The huntsman replies, gaze still harsh as he looks down across the way at him. “And fucking with people’s expectations is a shitty thing to do.” Suddenly, his anger spikes.

“You think it’s fun to talk like you actually give a damn about somebody and then avoid em like the cursed thing they are? Just pretend it never happened? That it doesn’t matter? They don’t matter?” Another scoff. “Explains a lot actually, even some stuff from back home.”

          ozpin can’t consider himself to be someone unintelligent. Despite the constant push and pull of his own self depreciation, he’s gotten to where he was because he learned, again and again. ( mostly because he had no choice, but he had taken up the mantle eventually, hadn’t he? it had never been easy, but a necessity if he wanted to stop all the flasks in his lives. ) so in this moment, he pauses. the air is thick with a silent contemplation that brings forth nothing, and for a moment he wonders if he’s completely out of touch. it would explain why everything went wrong. it would also explain why his presence, lack of or otherwise, never seemed to be the right thing, no matter what. 

          but then qrow speaks. oh.

          oh.

          its like the unfurling of a weapon, the snap of all the joints falling into place. and, dare he say, it almost feels like as if it hurts just as much.

          “ i... “ despite all that he’s found that he doesn’t know, he does know this: the bird will not like the answer coming in store. it’s sour, twisting in knots and gripping at the base of his ribcage with a desperate request: please, please don’t let me out. “ ... my choice of keeping this distance was not because of your afflictions, qrow. my words from the last time we spoke were genuine. i made myself scarce because i did not want to overstep into places where i do not belong. “ ‘ after all, i can hardly say that you’re the only bad luck charm around here, wouldn’t you say? ‘

new theme! he’s finally green yall