Raven Branwen stood beside a cliff, her fingers pinching a small tray with a candle aboard. As Qrow approached her, it seemed that Remnant ended at her toes, and became the night sky, a vast expanse of darkness. He reached her side in respectful silence.
"You came," she smiled.
Her head tilted to Summer Rose's headstone, to the open grave.
"I came to invite you to the service," he corrected.
Raven did not answer him. Her words were a monologue. He'd heard many in recent days, all of them admissions that the words were a burden too heavy to hold.
She said, "Grief is personal. There is nothing more isolating than a reminder-like this- of mortality. I will grieve alone."
He nodded that he wouldn't contest it.
"I just want you to know you don't have to," he grumbled.
"Thank you. Since you're here, I do have words to say."
Qrow listened. His silence was her cue. She looked down, into the warm glow of her plate-born candle.
"This light is a symbol, tiny, but defiant of the vast darkness opposing us. It is not the light of our creator. It is not a descendant, passed from torch to torch. The first light is gone, and we are divorced from it- from our creator- by a fatal isolation, like stars divided by darkness in the night sky. This light is a symbol that I will try to light the darkness. This light is a tribute."
She knelt at the cliff's edge, and set the candle just over it. The plate hovered, as if on a placid mirror of water. Then she scooted the plate, and Qrow watched without questioning as it slowly drifted away into the murky, black sky.
In a demure dressing room, General Ironwood straightened his tie in a mirror. Black tassels adorned his shoulders and elbows. He clutched the flag of Mantle and the medallion of Atlas' armed forces in a shadow box. He knelt down to Penny, at his side, and buttoned the epaulet on her shoulder.
"Will they be sad?"
She was young, and knew little of the human experience. Serving a Death Notice, in Ironwood's experience, was a potent experience- an invaluable lesson about humanity.
"Yes," he answered.
"Because their son is dead?"
"Yes," he repeated.
She fixed the epaulet on her other shoulder, and mirrored his every correction for symmetry.
"But why are they sad? Machines serve a purpose, and then they die. Where is the tragedy?"
He knew her specs. He knew that she had the capacity to understand, and that someday she would. He did not envy her that black day. He sighed, and straightened her collar.
"You're correct, to a degree, Penny. I'm going to tell them that their child served his purpose to his fullest extent. I'm going to tell them that they should feel pride. But the human machine does not serve any single purpose. We all have more than one goal. And when we die, we choose- if we are fortunate, we choose- a single goal that we serve in death. But everything else we were doing, everything we didn't complete, we fail. Our burdens become the burdens of our friends. That is the tragedy."
"And we can make them happy again?"
"No. There's only one rule when you're delivering a Death Notice. You can make it worse, but you cannot make it better."
"Then why are we going? We never even met him."
"To share in the burden. To pay tribute to their friend."
Cinder held out her hands to Emerald, to receive the olive branch.
"Was this really necessary?" Emerald huffed.
Cinder giggled. She sighed.
"This might sound strange, after everything we've done. But, hospitality is sacred. And, well, you may have noticed that I have an appreciation for the old ways."
Mercury and Emerald traded doubtful looks. Neopolitan leaned into that suspicious group and shook her head in disbelief.
"I'm serious," Cinder insisted, "No tricks. No semblances. No surprise attacks. Leave your weapons here. Today we dine with our enemies, and pay our tribute to the beauty of life."
When they entered the temple, team RWBY was already seated. The same table, with the same decorations, had greeted all factions of the Great War. Vytal Island's temple was a dedication to peace. Ruby stood to greet Cinder with a dove in hand. Conversation had become awkward between them, so their greeting was an awkward pause in each other's personal space.
"Um, do we trade or something?" Ruby suggested.
Cinder scoffed.
"You know, I don't actually know. It seems so simple though. It's strange that in peace we have lost the skill of making amends."
Here Mercury interrupted, "No, I think I know how to do that."
He laid out a plate of bread and fish. He was pleasantly surprised when Blake and Yang laid out a game he'd not played since his father was kind. Conversation followed the meal, and players traded teams like friends meeting for the first time. All things have an end, but this meeting had taught them well that their enemies were sharing in the pains of living. The end of that meeting demanded a simple acknowledgment from a simple soul. Ruby stood at the head of the chapel, with everyone's attention.
"I guess I'm a speech person now. I... I've always had a dream, and I know you might be sick of hearing it, but I can't rest until it's true. I want to be a huntress. I want to banish the shadows. I want people to be able to lay out and stretch and not worry if something's going to try to eat them. I want all of the fairy tales and all of the happiness to come true. And no matter how hard I have to work for it, I'm going to. I'm going to be the best leader that I can be. I made a promise to my mother that I would follow my dream to become a huntress and that I would make my dream come true. And I just wanted to tell everyone- I mean, to thank you all- for being there beside me. It makes me happy to be around people who are following their dreams, and who won't let themselves fail. I know it's hard at times, but if we all stick together, if we're all there for each other when times get tough, then we can make it through. I believe in our work. I believe in us."
In a forest, hidden away from prying eyes, Adam Taurus paced before the White Fang's recruits. He told them, "Life is hard. Many voices will tell you otherwise. They will tell you that life is easy, and that you are merely lacking in strength. They will tell you not to struggle. These voices lied to you, and their lies have stolen your dreams. You were lied to. Life is hard, and you are strong. Life is struggle. If you join us today, I cannot promise that you won't be afraid. I can promise you that the person to your left and the person to your right will never tell you that you are weak, or that life is easy, or that you should ever stop struggling. We have only one life and only one legacy, and as members of the White Fang, we plan to make both of them as great as possible. It is our tribute to the gift of life."
Ozpin and Glynda stood atop Beacon, staring at Grimm pressed against the window. Their weight cracked it, and Ozpin nodded to Glynda, "If I could make a single wish, it would be to have inspired the life's work of many at the mere cost of my one life's work."
"I would wish for the lights to keep shining when I'm gone," she whispered back.
Ozpin smiled, "We don't have wishes. But I do believe we've done our work. We've left our legacies."
"Then we can die content," she answered.
Ozpin lifted a glass of wine. She returned the gesture.
"A toast. To hard work and a long rest."
They drank.
Lie Ren sat alone with a pink envelope. On its face was written, "To: Lie Ren, From: Nora."
He hummed his satisfaction and opened it.
"It would be nice if we could all be together, but I guess this will have to do. Pyrrha made cupcakes for everyone. You aren't here, so we put a candle on yours. I tried to make waffles like you do, but I'm not sure it's the same. We'll keep trying. We'll never stop trying. My handwriting hasn't changed, by the way. Jaune wrote the card because I kept getting crying on it. Sorry. We've been keeping up on our training and trying to stay focused like we know you'd want. I'm learning to juggle. Jaune's getting better at fighting and leading and doing all the things you said you knew he could. Pyrrha says she's going to save the world and think about you while she does. I guess I'll be helping them both. You did a lot of good here at Beacon, and a lot of good's being done in your name, now. My work is easier when I remember that we are together in spirit, even if we're not- you know, together, together."
