May Fortune Guide Us
The afternoon brought with it clearer skies after the raging storms of the night before, along with a clearer head for Qrow. The elder still looked pale and wan and sallow, but Clover happily clapped him on the shoulder and gestured to the entrance of his abode. "So, let's get started?" he asked once the elder had confirmed he no longer felt like death walking.
Qrow sighed, running his fingers through his hair, clambering up to his feet wearily. "Whatever you say, good knight," he replied sourly, although his words carried no heat to them. Clover smiled and shook his head wryly, waiting for the other man to join him so they could survey the damage.
Just as he had seen earlier, the storm had caused a painful amount of wreckage in the vicinity. However, after cleaning up their morning affairs, they quickly fell into a solid rhythm, working together to clear what needed to be taken away. Clover tied branches together and hacked apart offending wood, leaving Qrow to transform and carry things out of the way in his avian form. The brambles were slowly but surely uprooted step-by-step, leaving him knee-deep in torn roots and soil, but Clover found that he did not mind; the humidity of the air left after the storm was strangely soothing, the exertion leaving rivulets of sweat dripping from his temple. It was messy work, and far less glorious than any mission to slay a beast, but Clover had provided manual labour and support like this numerous times as a squire, and the return to this mindless, yet warm-hearted work was something he hadn't even known he had missed.
Dirt was not exactly something he could muck around with amongst the eternal tundra and ice and snow of Solitas, after all. Inglorious or not, something about being surrounded by soil and greenery felt natural, right.
Every once in a while he was able to see Qrow shift back to his human form, the man looking over their progress with a troubled, anxious glint in his eye. His care for this nieces was clear as day, and there was no lie in his eyes whenever he mentioned just how much he wanted to ensure that the path to his home was safe for the children. For that, Clover genuinely wanted to help him. Qrow was a clumsy man, but a loving one- that much was true. Any residual fear or discomfort he felt towards the shifter dissipated by evening, for the man begrudgingly brought Clover back into his home and fed him and offered him a place to stay yet again. Qrow was not a monster, no matter what the citizens of Patch may have thought- he was just a lonely man, almost pitiable in his sorry, lonely state.
He was surprisingly engaging, too. Clover found himself asking more and more about his relationship with King Ironwood over dinner; although at first, the prickly man kept quiet, as time went on Qrow began to reveal more and more of his history with Clover's liege, recounting tales of missions gone awry and training together as youths. It was bizarre, listening to tales of his relatively-young king as an even younger man, but Qrow's stories went far enough back that Clover soon found himself fascinated by this new take on the man who Clover had sworn to follow forever. And, by the end of Qrow's tales, Clover found that his former fear of the shifter had disappeared completely, as had all of Qrow's aggression towards him, his previous trespassing finally forgiven amidst the strange situation in which they found themselves.
With their exhaustion mounting and the sun almost completed hidden below the horizon, the duo had to turn in for the evening. Clover stepped out of the bath and dressed in borrowed clothes, only to notice just how dim the tiny mountain home truly was. Within the remaining rays of sunlight streaming in through the window, he could see tiny motes of dust floating everywhere, causing him to sneeze just looking at it. "Do you have any other lights in here?" he asked off-hand, walking over to the kitchen window. "Are these Dust lanterns really enough?"
Qrow lifted his eyes from the sink, raising a brow at the man, placing the plate in his hands down. "I don't see the issue," he said blandly. "If I could see my parchment, then it's good enough."
Clover shook his head, leaning his elbows onto the windowsill. Looking out the window, he could see the clear difference between the damage the storm had wrought and the fruits of their labour that day even in the waning sunlight; a swell of pride surged up within his heart, for they truly had made a large dent on their workload. It felt comforting to have had work that relied on no bureaucracy or courtliness. "It's not that. This place needs some dusting, and some more lights, and-"
"What are you, the head of the household?" Qrow growled, rolling his eyes.
Shrugging, Clover simply joined Qrow at the sink, grabbing a dishcloth to dry the plate once Qrow was finished with it. "I'm just thinking of how to make it more comfy for your nieces."
Immediately, Qrow's face softened. "You..."
Clover flushed, seeing the gentleness in the shifter's eyes. Clearing his throat, he placed the dried dish in its stack and walked over to the cavernous bedchambers. "Either way, we should go to bed," he said hurriedly. "It would be a good idea to rest now, so we can continue working tomorrow."
"I-I'll stay up a little longer," Qrow replied, keeping his face turned away from Clover. "I have some things to do."
Clover opened his mouth, ready to protest- or, at least, to offer companionship- but with the sight of Qrow's ears and neck flushing dark pink, contrasting terribly with his normally-pale skin and dark hair, he felt his own cheeks heat up. What in the world am I thinking? Clover screamed silently as he ducked into the cavern. He's a shifter.
And yet, those words meant nothing to him anymore. Even the sight of Qrow's transformation had frightened him less and less as the day had progressed, and now that Clover reflected upon it within the darkened chamber, he knew that he had somehow acclimatized to this situation far quicker than he could have ever imagined.
Still, it took him quite a while to fall asleep that night. Slumber did not seem keen to take over his body, for his mind continued to race with conflicting thoughts all night- thoughts about what he could possibly do to help Qrow feel comfortable enough to return to Beacon Academy's staff; indignant disbelief that still remained over the fact that he was stuck here doing this mission at all, when his skills would be better utilized on practically any other task-
And the lingering image of pink ears and a flushed neck, the sound of stuttered words, the softening of crimson eyes as they looked at him in wonder and gratitude over and over and over again.
He liked feeling those eyes upon him, he found. Qrow had always been a handsome man, but those eyes were something else entirely, stirring something within Clover that he did not know how to truly name.
Sleep arrived eventually, and Clover awoke bright and early the next morn to find a fatigued, but less hungover, Qrow this time. "You're looking a little better today," Clover commented kindly as he poured himself some tea. "You have a plan for today?"
Massaging his temple, Qrow shot him a wan smile, leaning against the countertop. "If you're still willing to help, we could finish clearing up the pathway today," he said with a shrug.
Clover gestured towards the exit, rolling his shoulders back. The linen shirt he was borrowing was comfortable and airy, albeit a little tight on his muscular form. It wouldn't hinder him in their work, although he did regret having to impose upon Qrow so much as to need to borrow his wardrobe.
As he followed Qrow out the door, however, Clover had to pause, taking a look around. The entire household looked… cleaner. Brighter. There were more Dust lanterns set out in the hallway, he realized, and another set in the kitchen. The morning light which shone through the vine-covered entrance was clear, fresh.
His heart seized for a moment, then he followed Qrow out the entrance of the cavern.
In the sunlight, the barren ground which they had cleared the day before was still just as stark and empty as before. To his surprise, however, Qrow's expression lit up with such joy that Clover would have assumed his nieces were cresting the trail on their own. "What is it?" he asked.
Turning on his heel, Qrow opened his arms wide, gesturing towards their previous day's efforts. "Nothing's… nothing's grown back," he breathed in awe.
Blinking slowly at him, Clover nodded. "Plants… generally don't grow back overnight." I think, he added silently. I'm assuming they don't. Glancing around, his mind began to stray, landing back onto the garden surrounding the cottage of Qrow's nieces. I wonder if those girls would like to have a garden here, too...
Qrow sighed, but the disbelief in his eyes was quickly morphing into relief. "You have no idea what fae magic is capable of," he retorted.
Understanding dawned upon Clover, leaving him shaking his head wryly as he stepped out into the warm morning rays alongside Qrow. "I guess I do, if my luck has been enough to stop it," he replied. "I'm glad I'm here, then."
Qrow's grateful smile before he began to transform once again engrained itself instantly into Clover's mind.
By the time the sun had reached its zenith over their heads, the path itself had been cleared- but more importantly, Clover found that there was no longer any discomfort between the two men whatsoever. Clover no longer felt the need to hold his tongue, the courtesy he would normally give a noble or fellow knight falling away to friendly, comfortable banter. Why keep up pretenses if Qrow was always so willing to engage in such a casual way?
It was so different to interactions on Atlas. There was no nonsense, no hidden layers to Qrow's words; he spoken honestly, truly. Clover quite liked it.
"It's not a bad thing at all to have that corvid form, huh?" Clover murmured, bringing over a flask of water for the fatigued shifter once they decided to take respite.
Flashing him a smile, Qrow pushed dark, sweat-streaked hair back, revealing flushed cheeks and a light in his eyes far brighter than that morning. "I'm impressed," he breathed. "Not many people can grow accustomed to seeing it."
With a wry grin, Clover asked, "Would you mind transforming right now?" At Qrow's confused look, he teased, pointing at the blazing sun, "We've cleared out all the shade in the area, and I'm not used to this kind of heat."
Deadpan, Qrow muttered, "I'm not going to give you shade under my wings."
Clover chuckled. "Well, it was worth a shot."
Before Qrow could retort, he froze in place, stiffening as if alerted by something. His eyes narrowed, gaze darting around to the treeline further below their place on the mountain path, looking for something still hidden away.
"Qrow, what is it-" Clover began, only to be interrupted by a loud, piercing snarl. His blood ran cold, adrenaline immediately spiking, heart pounding in his chest. Brothers- it's the Grimm.
"My goddamn luck," Qrow spat under his breath. "This is why I don't go outside- Brothers be damned, this is-"
Those words were the last things Clover heard before his feet were already taking him back to the entrance of Qrow's home where he had placed Kingfisher in its scabbard, alongside his armour. There was no time to slip anything on aside from his blade, so he hooked it onto his belt as he bolted back down the path; the axe he had been using would be far less effective against creatures of shadow than the spelled blade, after all.
However, as he reached their makeshift camp set up a just a few hundred yards down the path, Clover found his footsteps pounding to a halt as he watched a pack of almost fifteen Beowolves step out of the treeline, approaching Qrow.
Yet, the shifter did not move.
If I call out to him, they'll be alerted, Clover immediately began to think, mind racing. That'll distract them- that'll give Qrow time to get away, he doesn't have a weapon, he needs to-
Wordlessly, Qrow held out his hand to the side as if to grab hold of something. Clover's jaw dropped as the shifter's hand began to glow, the red light of his Aura emanating from his fingertips, growing and condensing like vines until suddenly, the world flashed, and the claymore which Clover had seen the other man use before landed perfectly within Qrow's hand.
There was no time to even blink. The giant claymore lifted high into the air, and suddenly, two of the closest Beowolves were cleaved in two, their wolf-like forms falling to the ground, dissipating into rancid ash. The rest of the pack began to howl, charging for the shifter, but Qrow gave them no purchase; he leapt into the air, his Aura glowing brightly enough to stain the sky with its crimson glow. The magical energy flowed into the claymore once again, somehow breaking the blade into segmented pieces that stretched, curved, elongated.
Clover was fascinated by it all, his grip on Kingfisher's hilt relaxing slightly as he took in the sight with awe and wonder. The silhouette of Qrow's tall, sinewy form poised midair, his muscle and strength on clear display as his giant broadsword transformed into what could only be the scythe of a reaper, imprinted itself into the back of Clover's eyes. How could he ever forget such deadly grace?
Clover's body reacted before his mind did to the one lone monster which had crept up behind him; he drew his blade, blocking saliva-covered jaws from rending his flesh from his bones. The white mask of the Beowolf was bloodstained from previous victims, but its red, glowing eyes burned through the caked-on muck of feasts past. Clover dispatched it with ease, wrenching his sword free from its neck once he managed to slice it half-off, turning to look back at Qrow's situation. I have to help-
But the battle was already over.
Within moments, the scythe had ripped around the pack, the precise, yet all-encompassing swings of the giant, curved blade culling all the beasts in one fell swoop. The air was thick with the dusty, scattering remains of crumbling Grimm, the beautiful evening sky choked out by black particles as the creatures disintegrated.
Clover could not even comprehend what had happened. There was skill, and then there was Qrow, apparently. No wonder they're so desperate to get him back in Vale, he thought absently to himself. When are you going to find a Huntsman with that kind of strength?
It was Qrow who noticed Clover's position first. Jogging up the path, the elder was quick to grab Clover's shoulder, roughly checking his body for any injuries. Once satisfied that Clover was unscathed, he released the younger, hunched over, and walked up the path, leaving no room for Clover to even begin to get his thoughts together.
"You're an excellent fighter," Clover murmured. "I wasn't expecting such impeccable swordsmanship- and with a scythe, as well- although I suppose that makes sense, thanks to your Semblance."
"Of course I'm good. What the hell did you think I did to fight Grimm?" Qrow growled in response, clearly far more emotionally taxed than physically at the presence of the Grimm. "Ask them nicely to leave me alone?" Shaking his head in irritation, he closed his eyes, and before Clover's very eyes, the blade seemed to vanish in another flash of red light. "There's a reason I have such strong wards protecting my home- Ozpin needed to do it himself, for the curse's effects are far too strong."
The silence which filled the air after those words was palpable, painful. Qrow looked withdrawn, bitter- completely different to the smiling man Clover had so quickly gotten used to over the past two days.
Wincing, Clover continued, "Is that what you taught at Beacon Academy? Combat or weapons training?" Clover asked. "I can't imagine a Huntsman with your skill being kept cooped up in a classroom."
Qrow sighed, leaning back on a tree trunk right off the path, tilting his head backwards to look up at the sky through the canopy above. "Yeah, but I left."
"Because of the incident, whatever it was?"
Shrugging, the elder said humourlessly, "I bring misfortune. It wasn't safe for the kids- I said it from the start, and I'll say it again. Oz should've listened to me."
Clover smiled, looking over to the elder. His silhouette in the waning sunlight was striking; the golden light reflecting off haughty cheekbones almost shone, giving him a golden, ethereal glow only warmed further by the crimson in his eyes. "If they got hurt, it wasn't your fault," he said.
Groaning, Qrow pushed away from the tree, shoving his hands into his pockets bitterly. "Look- they got hurt. Even if they're okay now, it doesn't excuse the fact that no Grimm would have even attacked the school had I not been there." Angrily pointing at his face, he added bitterly, "Guess who hasn't had another Grimm attack since I left? Beacon." He hunched over, turning away from Clover, ready to head up to his home. "You wouldn't understand, my innocent, lucky knight."
Clover quickly jogged to meet up with him further up the trail. "Qrow, if I've done something to offend you, and if this question will be too forward, I apologize; however, I want to know- you seem far more agitated than if it was just regret over what happened to your students. What exactly is going on?"
To his surprise, Qrow actually paused, turning to look over his shoulder. His expression was twisted into a rueful, fatigued smile. "My nieces want to be Huntresses one day," he said softly, once Clover's footsteps caught up to his own. "I'm… those kids could've been them, Clover."
Clover softened, his heart melting. It wasn't out of guilt or bitterness, but out of empathy, that Qrow thought he should stay away. "You say that they're better with you gone, Qrow, but if I had a child…" He walked ahead, blocking off the shifter's path up the mountainside. "I think I'd feel a lot safer knowing that my child was learning from such an amazing Huntsman. They'll be far more equipped with you around, right?"
Qrow paused, glancing over at him with a glint of surprise which Clover could not help but mirror. After all, Clover found that he meant those words.
He just hoped that his face conveyed that sentiment just as sincerely as he felt it. Judging by how Qrow's sadness seemed to slowly ease form his features, his eyes creasing into the truest smile he had yet to see upon the elder, it seemed like he was successful.