Back at it again with another vaguely related to a song character study fic. I love Raven and hope she turns out to be the anti-hero we all deserve. Meanwhile, I think there's enough evidence to say she's terrified and a bit of a defeatist. Until proven otherwise, I will believe her leader's death is what solidified that.

This maybe got away from me a bit and got more abstract than I intended. Whoops. Still decided I liked it enough though.

Wings beat hard against the morning sky, the black bird twisting and turning through the familiar forest as she took a path she had long refused to travel but was forever burned in her memory. Wingbeats slowed as she started to descend to the ground, gliding down until she was at a more reasonable height and then dropping down, landing on one knee as the woman she was known as.

She stood up, and red eyes narrowed as she looked out over the cliff. The forest and wildlife were expansive and stretched out to the horizon, but she could see a few houses dotting the area below. Those were new from when she was last here. The morning light shone brightly as the sun started making its way across the sky, and the wind picked up slightly. She sighed and turned her attention to the stone in front of her. Small, simple, with only her name and that one phrase. It was what she would have wanted.

"Summer."

It had been some fifteen years since she had been on the island. When Raven last left Patch, walking out of Tai and Yang's lives, she thought it would be the last time she set foot here. At least it would be the last time she did so openly, as a human. She had returned a few times as a raven but as far as she knew, no one knew of those visits. It was better that way, she wasn't eager for anyone to know she was prone to showing that weakness.

And she never thought she would be here, standing before her former team leader's grave. The emotions coiling in her gut answered why.

"She's dead," Raven said and knelt down across from the slate gray stone, "Not…Salem. But one of her followers, the one who took the Fall Maiden's power. I ensured it by killing her myself." She didn't know why she felt the need to say this. It wasn't like she had spoken to Summer or visited her grave since she died. And even if she had, it wasn't like the silver-eyed woman could hear her. But it felt…necessary to inform her that her killer had been delivered a blow. That she personally had dealt a blow to Summer's killer. It felt like the only thing she was capable of doing.

"Qrow is spearheading a movement against Salem like the fool he is," she continued with a scoff, "He's even recruited the kids. Seems like he's taken a page or two out of Oz's book." She didn't even bother to hide her bitterness. They had been far too young then to be told the truth of the situation, and now here her brother was, doing nearly the exact same thing to the next generation. It would be darkly humorous if she didn't know the ending was a tragedy. "Ruby is at the forefront," she added and squinted, briefly looking out over the horizon.

She had known about Ruby for a while of course, but her first true meeting with the younger Rose had been at Haven, when she was admonishing Qrow and Ruby immediately called her out. She said they could beat Salem together and she so readily believed it, holding out a hand to the enemy and hoping they could work together. It was a somber hope, a mixture of knowing and seeing things no 16-year-old should experience and still somehow coming out with optimism and a dream for something better. In that moment, Raven was staring into the past at a woman with a white cloak and the same silver eyes who had believed something similar. Even now, the memories between mother and daughter were blurring together.

"She's so much like you," Raven said and laughed, though it was a harsh and hollow sound, "I don't know if you should be proud or terrified." That Summer had instilled the same kind of courage and confidence in her daughter was impressive, but they learned the consequences of that attitude. She was staring directly at the consequences. "I don't think you want her ending up like you, I don't think you want anyone ending up like you. And Yang…" Raven trailed off, sharp red gaze looking to the forest around her.

Motherhood was never a position she desired, and even after she had Yang it was never necessarily a title she claimed. Her feelings and actions towards her own daughter were…complicated. She believed the world she surrounded herself with, immersed herself in, had made her far too incapable of being a decent mother. It was far too unkind to children in general. She may have given birth to Yang, but she wasn't suitable to be her mom. Summer was and…in all of her face to face interactions with Yang, it showed. She didn't know if that was enraging or frightening.

"Yang learned a lot from you too," she said evenly and looked back to the grave, "She's…strong." You might be powerful, but that doesn't make you strong. She didn't want to pay her the compliment, but she had to. Yang had faced a lot and still stood steady, even in the face of fear. Their confrontation…confrontations really, proved that. "She is strong, and persistent, and able to persevere. And she will do anything for her sister and her friends, it seems."

You turn your back on people. You run away when things get too hard. You put others in harm's way instead of yourself!

It was something she supposed she should've been proud of. Instead, Raven's eyes narrowed. "You raised two, perfect do-gooder daughters. How dare you," she ground out, "Ruby is your own flesh and blood, you could do with her what you wanted. But Yang…Yang was supposed to be a survivor no matter the cost!"

Raven blew a breath out through her nose and closed her eyes. "I told her multiple times to leave. I told her she didn't know what she was getting herself into. I told her Qrow and Ozpin were withholding the truth from her. I showed her she didn't know the truth! And she still walked right into it," she growled in annoyance, "Because that's where her sister was. And it was the right thing to do."

Her red eyes opened again and glared at the tombstone. "Kindly fuck the right thing to do," she hissed, "Yang has no idea what Salem is. What Salem can do. She has no idea what the Relic is or what trouble it will cause her, but she's old enough to make her own decision and I couldn't stop her." Because you're afraid of Salem! "Yang is marching straight to her death because of what you taught her. 'Do the right thing…be a good person.' She's going to die because of you! Because of what you instilled in her! Because I wasn't there, because I didn't teach her properly, because now I can't protect her just like—"

Vernal. Using her last bit of strength to shoot Cinder and save her life. Vacant blue eyes finally giving in to stare at nothing. Death in an artificially built paradise after being revealed to be a false prophet. Thank you, Vernal.

Spring. Bright green eyes dimming with a mixture of relief and fear. Betrayal and understanding. Closing eyes as the power she held transferred to someone much more capable and still somehow much less. An unknown death and an unmarked grave, but deserving of so much more. It was mercy!

Taiyang. No death, but heartbreak after heartbreak. Once lively violet eyes dull from life's realities. A spirit broken and mended, but still not quite right. Not quite what it once was. I only know the Raven Dad told me about.

Summer. Bloodied white cloak, weapon loosely hanging from a hand. Silver eyes and their immense power darkening with each ragged breath. Life of a simple soul, humanity's only hope, flickering into non-existence. Or you can go back to Qrow and join Ozpin's impossible war against Salem. And meet the same fate as so many others.

Raven didn't know when her rage unmasked itself as sorrow and manifested into clenched fists and fallen tears. She stood up and took a few, unsteady steps backwards. This was why she never came, or even thought about Summer. Because Summer was the start, she was the first. It wasn't that she feared death necessarily. It was a part of life. But this world was cruel. Salem was cruel. And if Summer was the first to die, humanity's only hope dead at the hands of that witch, then what did that mean for the rest of them?

Each body thereafter only served to answer that question.

She didn't like dwelling on things like this, showing such weakness. Dwelling didn't do anything but remind her of the truth. The truth that she wasn't strong enough for this world. She was simply a woman, hurt and afraid. And now her daughter was marching forward where she could not. Stronger, perhaps, but not enough. Yang would just be another body in the end, and as much as she preached about her "one-time rule," she didn't like the thought. Yang was still her daughter, after all.

And she was doomed to death like so many before her. Because of what Summer taught her. Because her own mother couldn't protect her. Because Yang made her choice.

Mortality, of both the self and others, was something everyone had to face eventually. Raven knew that. But what was before them wasn't mortality, it wasn't death. It was torment—torture. What Vernal endured before she died was unnecessary pain. What Spring lived through was an endless trial for a girl who didn't deserve it. Tai's anguish was an uncalled-for tribulation of life. And Summer…Summer…

Her eyes went back to the grave. It always came back to Summer. She carried a burden far too large for a single soul. Humanity's last hope. The one person who shouldn't…couldn't die. She didn't know what she expected to find here. Comfort, perhaps, or at least a bit of closure. But it wasn't this. It wasn't the dark realization she had been forced to make so many times before. I've stared death in the face! Instead of either, it was death's face smiling at her once more. Even as she continued backing up and heard footsteps approaching her—had Tai seen her come in?—Raven couldn't tear her focus from two words on the grave. They served as a bitter reminder. Not of the life that once lived, but what was inevitable for those who were still living. It was a dark irony.

Thus kindly, all things must die.