Might be OOC, not sure. Haven't read anything Glynda-centric that wasn't smut to some extend so not sure how well i portrayed her character when she isn't being railed or when she's pitching tents.
Patron
As far as her eyes could make out, the scenery was a hell-scape of death and destruction garnished by the evaporating remains of Grimm carcasses.
Being one of the oldest settlements this side of Vale, Patron had an outdated distress beacon and due to the obsolete technology, the huntsman party arrived almost half a day after the bandit raid and mere hours after the Grimm finished of the settlers.
There was, at this point, no purpose to their presence in the settlement as the Grimm were thorough in their follow up. The only thing they could do was clear away the Grimm and look for survivors, if there were any.
House after house, it was the same haunting scene. Blood and gore decorated the walls where once a bandit raided a poor settler's home followed by the gutted farmer lying on the roadside eviscerated who'd fallen prey to a stray Beowulf.
"Glynda…come in - over," the radio called, followed by screeching static.
"Glynda reporting in, how goes the west quadrant - over," she inquired.
"No survivors thus far. Your side? – over," the other huntsmen had finished scouring their side just as she was finishing up her side it seems.
"It's the same as every side, we got here too late – over," she replied.
"Alright," the man sighed in resignation, "I'm calling off the search party. Return to the Bullhead in thirty when you finish your sweep – over."
"Will do, sir. – over."
She'd finished a sweep of the upper-tier of the settlement (residential area) and would have, under any other circumstance, stopped to admire the beautiful architecture had it still been standing and not peppered with the dried husks of the settlers.
The only area they'd left unchecked were the slums in the lower tiers of the settlement, the rest of the party had ensured her to not bother with the area, since it was ground zero of the Grimm infestation. The chances of finding survivors in the lower sectors were slim but, no stone left unturned she assured herself.
Summoning purple artifacts of light, she upturned pillars of collapsed buildings, one after another searching for even a single soul that had somehow endured. She refused to go back home empty-handed and as such she'd gone past the set time to sortie back to the bullhead, opting to leave only if she collapsed of exhaustion.
All hope seemed lost when she'd reached the outermost edge of the settlement, she'd turned pillar after pillar from whatever residence that seemed salvageable and found nothing but more bodies.
She looked to-and-fro and saw nothing but forest and Grimm infested lands beyond the border thus cementing the fate of Patron.
~Waaaah~
She had all but given up her search and ready to go back home when she heard the most haunting cry of a child, days old judging from pitch. Despite the exhaustion she took off in a sprint towards the source, each step a full wide stride ignoring the pencil skirt which constricted movement.
The wail had originated from the inside of a run-down tavern which had collapsed on one side and missing a significant portion of the roof, a Goliath attack judging from the damage and indentation of the metal supports which indicated something heavy being pushed into it.
The front entrance was inconveniently blocked from the inside but a fallen support beam which was too heavy to lift with her semblance since close to half of the fallen structure rested atop the steel girder making the run-down shack a death-trap for the survivor inside.
Instead of attempting to lift the metal support she opted to enter via the missing roof using wooden-planks suspended mid-air as walking platforms. With the amount of aura she had left, the feat was simple but nonetheless still exhausting.
"~shush now Jaune, the Grimm will hear us…Don't worry love, help is on the way…just be brave till then little man," a motherly voice cooed to hush the child, audibly strained in pitch indicating extensive injuries of some sort but Glynda was glad to have found survivors, regardless of condition.
She followed the voice to the center of the tavern where she found a woman awkwardly rested against whatever remained of the wall and dead bandits sprawled across the tavern floor. The woman looked no older than herself and she held a small child in hand, bundled in a thickly layered blanket of starry patterns.
Glynda moved closer to assist the woman but stopped mid-way when she noticed the woman's condition.
The woman was hurt badly.
Multiple stab wounds and lacerations all over, each and every one fatal. The blood had by now dried and the resulting creasing on her clothing indicated that hours had passed since they were afflicted.
The bandits were known to attack with disregard of civilian casualty thus to protect her child the woman had no choice but to endure the brunt of the bandits' assault in place of the little one.
It was only by the miracle of aura and will to protect her child that she was even still conscious.
The child remained within her arms, blissfully unaware of his brush with fate as he cooed to the woman incoherently in baby-speak somehow while attempting to fit his entire hand inside his tiny mouth.
"That's no way for a gentleman to act now," the woman softly spoke to the child her voice fading as she removed his hand from his mouth.
Glynda moved in closer and pat the woman on her shoulder.
Having lost too much blood to be startled at the possibility of a Grimm attack, the woman simply held the child closer to her bosom as whatever dregs of aura she had left congregated around the child's body in attempt to shield him from what she must have assumed was an attack.
"It's ok ma'am, I'm here to help you and your child to safety," Glynda said to the woman in the most reassuring voice she could muster.
The woman stared at Glynda, fatigue settling in now as her eyes slowly lost colour and life, before she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
"You hear that Jaune, this nice lady's going to take you away to a nice place," ignoring Glynda, the woman spoke to the child softly, tears wetting the blanket wrapping as she resigned herself to her fate.
"Mommy can't come with you…," her breath hitched as she started to cry, "but…I'm going to a place where I'll watch over you…so we'll never be apart," she said as she took the child's tiny hand in her much larger ones and pinched his tiny pinky in-between her thumb and small finger.
"That I promise you on our family name," she handed the child to Glynda.
"You're going to grow up…and you're going to shine… my littler star Jaune."
"Save your breath ma'am, I'm calling for help," Glynda tried to reassure the woman who simply continued to ignore her.
"I can see it now…my son the footballer, a master-chef maybe, or a dancer like your Aunt…you can even be the World's strongest Huntsman like your mom if you want…," with her last few breathes she envisioned what the future held for the child she'd never know.
"Whatever you do Jaune…just know…that I love you." She'd lost vision now it would seem, she fumbled her hands around in attempt to hold her child one last time, but instead pat Glynda's shoulder instead.
The woman, a nameless hero in Glynda's eyes, passed away content with a smile gracing her features.
"I'll…do what I can for…Jaune," taking the woman's now lifeless hand off her shoulder, she lay the woman to rest as she called in extraction for the child and hopefully transport the woman's body for proper burial.
She had minutes before the rest of her team arrived so she allowed for a moment of weakness to pass.
On behalf of the child she now held in her arms, too young and too innocent to understand his loss, she mourned the passing of his mother.
On her behalf and of others who had taken up arms in the rescue effort, she mourned the lives of those they'd failed to save.
The child poked his head out the blanket revealing a mop of blonde hair and the most striking pair of blue eyes. Jaune grabbed a handful of her flowing locks and proceeded to put them in his mouth. For but a moment, there was peace upon the world when she looked at his blissful expression.
"That's no way for a gentleman to act now," she said as pulled the lock of hair from his mouth. It was futile to reprimand him for his actions, being far too young to understand speech and all, but it was all she could do to calm herself.
Vale Airspace: en-route to Beacon via detour
Within a bullhead freight, a sortie of hunters had taken to gathering around the witch and the child she held in her arms.
"He seems to like you Goodwitch…must be a blonde thing," the burly elderly gentleman, Brutus, said to lighten the heavy atmosphere that always lingered about whenever they weren't fast enough or strong enough to protect.
"Kid cries every time any one of us holds him…must think you're his mom," Glynda flinched at the mention of the child's mother but she held an uncharacteristic smile as she rocked him in her arms.
"He's so adorable, like Yang," the only other female in the group scooted closer to poke the child's cheeks, "What's his name?"
"Give the kid some space Summer," the sleazy looking drunkard of the bunch, Qrow, pitched in after noticing the child's discomfort at the poking. "We can worry about his name and age after we decide what to do with him."
"The 'responsible' thing to do would be to hand him to the Foster-Care system," he slurred bitterly.
"Must be dreaming…Qrow speaking of responsibility…gotta be a catch to it," Brutus quipped at the drunkard who smirked instead of taking offense.
"Me and Rave have some 'personal' experience with the system…the constant moving-around ain't exactly the healthiest thing for a child, especially one his age," he said, putting emphasis on the personal bit, to which the rest murmured to each other but soon defaulted to exchanging awkward wary glances back and forth, just waiting for someone to speak up.
"First we get him to a hospital then see what to do from there." The voice of reason spoke in form of Glynda who gently rocked the child rested in her arms.
"Putting him up for Adoption could be the best thing we can do for him or worst…depends who picks him up."
"He seems to like you already, you can be family to the kid if you want," the elderly man said to the blonde as she continued to rock the child.
It was a passing statement, meant to be taken to heart but to be brushed of as a jest. She wanted to refute but the prospect of motherhood brought a rare smile to her features as she held him closer and imagined him as her own.
"That's a great idea. You're both blonde and have mean looks anyway so you can pass of as family easily," Summer said excitedly bouncing in her spot as she waved to the baby who had twisted his face in discomfort at something.
"You…really think I could," as uncertain as she was, it was something she took to consideration. The huntress life wasn't turning out the way she'd imagined (rather romanticized)it would and as of recently she had found an out, in form of a teaching position at the prestigious Beacon. Raising and nurturing the child would bring about a new purpose to being, one that she welcomed.
"Glynda Goodwitch and children…that'd be the day," rudely interrupting the good witch's reverie was the ever sensible Qrow.
"Qrow," Summer snarled at him as he slinked away in his corner muttering an apology.
"Don't listen to that moron Glynda, you'll make a great mother. You don't have to take my words to heart but think on it," placing a hand on her shoulder Brutus reassured her.
She recalled the moment she shared with the child's mother, when she promised to do what she can for him, and the more she thought back to it the more she considered the gentleman's words.
Instead of raking her brain with the unpleasantries of the settlement's demise, she turned her gaze to Jaune in her arms who seemed to take discomfort at the freight's altitude. His little-face scrunched and he soon dispelled whatever he'd drank earlier, the little glob of milk and spittle spoiling the inner blanket's corner without touching the rest of the layers.
While swapping his blanket-wrapping for fresher ones she found herself humming a fair ditty and thanked every god under the sun the others weren't present to hear. The sound seemed to quell Jaune's squirming and brought a smile to his chubby face so she picked up tempo and added some hushed vocals while she carefully rolled him out of his silky cocoon.
Vale Hospital
A restless hour later she found herself in the most obnoxiously colorful section of the public hospital, standing in front of an equally colorful door, the Familial and Juvenile-care specialist's office the sign read.
Jaune had been compliant thus far whenever she held him(sole reason she'd been tasked with taking him to hospital for the check-up) and as such the check-up had gone swimmingly well without him breaking out crying or squirming uncomfortably, The results of which had come up with soiled nappies at worst and warranted a bottle of some powdered elixir.
"Come in," the specialist summoned her. Behind the baby-blue colored door was the man who would ultimately decide whether he would live a good life fill of familial love or be stuck in the vicious cycle that was the foster-care system as per Qrow's warning.
"Take a seat ma'am," he instructed of her to which she complied, no longer did she have the weight in her arms that she'd grown fond of all too fast.
"I understand you asked for me and had some questions concerning … Jaune was it," he said as he pulled up a dossier on his table-top display.
"What's going to happen to him," she asked of the man who in turn typed something furious on the touch-screen peripheral installed into his work desk to which a bunch of digital documents and forms popped up, each one a different color with different text pertaining to whatever right and local legislation they were under.
"Either one of many things could happen but best case scenario..." he pulled up the first two documents with an awkward wave at the holographic display.
"With your permission, as his Guardian on paper," she'd signed the check-up forms in a rush and didn't bother to read the fine print, "we could put him up for adoption. At his age the process should only take about...a month for him to be taken," he said as he flipped through the pages explaining the intricacies of the process.
"...How… would one go about with getting those forms," she said hesitantly pointing to the screen display.
Fondly the doctor took note of how her expression had completely flipped from stone-faced stern one minute and the next flustered.
"Motherhood is an experience unlike any other," he said as he ducked low under his desk as he skimmed through a file cabinet to pull out a khaki folder.
"The gift that keeps on giving, my wife always says even after seven girls," he smiled fondly as he slipped the folder Glynda's way.
"It is challenging at times but there's nothing more rewarding than watching the little ones grow, I assure you."
"If you're interested then read through that then come back here… I'll walk you through the process myself if and when you decide."
A simple nod and polite dismissal later she found herself outside the office but still in the same colorful section of the hospital sitting on an office chair by the ward-concierge as she read through the forms detailing the process. With each word she read the prospect of care-taking became a more welcome thought. By the time she'd read halfway through the booklet her mind was already set thus she skipped to the end where she found a pinkish form with empty boxes.
Placing the paper flat on the concierge desk she fished out a pen nearby and took a heavy breath. One drop of ink on the paper was all it would take to forever change her life and that of another soul, for better or worse.
She walked through the blue door once again and was graced by the surprised look of the specialist who had expected her to take a little longer than the thirty minutes she had.
As she slid the folder back to the specialist, "I made a promise to do what i can, I intend to see this through," she said.
"Spoken like an Arc," taking pride in her resolve the man bellowed as he hefted a mountain of paper onto the desk.
"Let's get you started shall we."
Words: 2991
A/N: I was inspired by Clean Bandit's son Rockabye to write this, which inspired me to draw the cover art. Spent countless hours going through nude models just to find the right pose, not that I'm complaining.
Feedback is much appreciated but do go easy on me.