Disclaimer: HARQ is a fanwork of the Rooster Teeth Animated Production RWBY. All characters from the original cast of RWBY are owned by Rooster Teeth.
Special thanks to eliort on for their artwork contributions. Thanks to Hector for editing.
XXX
"Sage," the voice said to him, "Sage." Ozpin scowled.
Go away, he thought, just because I used my semblance doesn't mean I want to chat with figments of my imagination. Go away. I'm not speaking to him.
"Ozzie!" His eyes shot open. He was standing stock-still, arms outstretched towards the Emerald Forest. He came back into his own body slowly and felt himself aching all over from the strain of using his semblance.
"We won, Ozzie," York said, his tone flat, "go us. Like twenty minutes ago."
"I see," he said, "very good." He looked at his old friend and smiled sadly. "Not even combat can close the gap between us, old friend?"
"Ozpin," York said, "your little helper is seeing to the last of your new kids. She made me stay here with you until you were back to reality. So, with that understood, just go. Believe me, we will talk about all of this." There was loathing in his voice and Ozpin's heart broke a little more.
"York," Ozpin said, "it's not what you think."
"What is it then? Hmm? Cuz I think you sent some new cadets into the forest unprepared, to save this school's already trash rep, and now you're lying to me about it. What miraculous occurrence accounts for a Wechuge being part of an entry exam!?" Ozpin winced.
"You wouldn't understand," he said, "you wouldn't even try to understand."
"Sure," York said, "I get it. I turned my back on this place. That's what Glynda says anyway. Don't bother looking contrite or nothing, Ozzie, cuz she's right. Hear me? One hundred percent correct. I did turn my back on this place and you know exactly why."
"York, can't you be an adult about it," Ozpin growled, his patience worn completely away, "I suffered through Mountain Glenn the same as you." York's hands wrapped themselves up in Ozpin's collar and wrenched him around. The two old friends glared into each other's eyes and Ozpin waited for York's next move.
"No," York's voice was low and serious, "no, you didn't suffer through Mountain Glenn exactly like I did. You didn't call on me for help and watch me leave you there. You know what, Ozzie? I've had an epiphany. I didn't turn my back on this school at all." He let Ozpin's collar go and backed away. "I never turned my back on anything. Not me." He put his hands in his pockets and slouched away further into the campus.
Ozpin stood alone on the cliff's edge, the Emerald Forest yawning beneath him, and tried his best not to collapse.
"The children," he said to himself, collecting his things, "I've got to go see to the children."
Seniors, juniors, and sophomores had descended on the first-years in droves to hear their thoughts on the very particular type of First Day of School that Hunter academies provided. There was excitement lingering in the air of the dinner rush and its laser focus were eight students who'd come limping in last of all.
Beacon was, after all, a school of teenagers. The rumor mill had already weaved a dozen possible reasons for the brief but titanic showing of prowess by three senior hunters on the cliffs of the Emerald Forest. Oakley and Feral had dissuaded the more enthusiastic upperclassmen with the promise of a full rundown at their first lessons.
"Go stuff your face, Danielle Flowers," Feral chided one, "and think about how much better you'd do in Applied Hunting if you asked this many questions about your schoolwork." He threw the kids a nod and strode to take his place with the rest of the staff, all more reserved but no less eager for news, at the head table of the long hall.
The last two teams were attacking their food with all the ferocity they'd shown the Grimm. Still, certain important matters were given their due and none were as important as tallying up scores for the day.
"So what I'm hearing," Xanthus said, grinning like a jack-o-lantern, "is that the Wechuge was, technically speaking, my kill." Rip wiped his lips and took a long sip of water before speaking. His stomach tried to tell him that witty banter could wait until he'd had a second helping of chicken salad.
"Hey, in all honesty, I don't want to give Hesh credit for it either," he shot his partner a playful glare, "but it was his crazy, stupid never-allowed-to-even-think-about-it-again plan that killed the thing." Hessian spared him an eye-roll but otherwise focused on carving a strip of pork tenderloin down to thin, precise pieces.
"Wait," Ohlone broke in after a long drink of lemonade, "if that's how we score it then who gets credit for the Furies? Me for doing it or Rhod for coming up with the idea?" The Atlasian held a hand in front of his mouth to speak while he chewed up a slice of pizza.
"Ye take it, Ohlone," he said, "Ah'm alright." Azeban's ears perked up.
"Hey, Rhod, don't just give it away like that we," Azeban belched into her fist, "woof, 'scuse me. The arrows were hers but the dynamite and the strips of your shirt should count. And I tied them on. That's an 'us' score."
"By that metric," Hesh said, dapping his lips with a napkin, "in fact the Wechuge was Xan's kill. Her dust. Her effort to rig it up. My own humble role as bait doesn't quite snatch the prize, sadly. I shall content myself with just being alive." Xan's grin grew like a switchblade.
"Ha! How bout that, ringtail? From the lips of loony himself." Hesh grimaced at the nickname.
"Since I gave you credit," he said, "might I ask you just call me by my name?"
"Sure thing, fancypants," Xan said, she leaned back in her chair and rested her boots on the table, "we get the Furies. We get the Wechuge. I'm thinking it's pretty clear who 'Top Huntress' is around here." Her grin faltered suddenly and her feet, of their own accord, rose up off the tabletop.
"Humility is a virtue, Miss Sabbatarian," Dr. Goodwitch said, she approached from the entryway, a small smile on her face. With a flick of her wrist Xan's chair righted itself, her feet planted themselves on the floor, and, as an added touch, a napkin floated up to wipe a stray drop of gravy from her cheek.
"Xan's humble," Maya snickered with a wink at Percy, "she didn't even mention how she tried to take on a flock of Furies all by herself." The tall girl withstood Xan's glare with a little smirk. It vanished at the look Dr. Goodwitch sent her way. There was the barest hint of a scold in her face that Maya had only ever gotten from her mother.
"I imagine that, eventful as the day was, not everything went precisely as planned," she said, "and you're all to be commended for the way that you fought. And that you fought together."
"I didn't mean anything bad, Dr. Goodwitch," Maya mumbled. Glynda smiled.
"I know," she said, "but a team must know when to bicker and when to boast in even measure. One great Huntress is not nearly so valuable as two good Huntresses working together." She turned to look over them all and her eyes fell on Hesh.
"Though I understand there were a few standouts," she said, "and while I'm sure your teammates and instructors have already weighed in, Mr. Crane, I hope you forgive a final comment." Hesh went red and nodded. "It was very brave, what you did." Hesh's shock was obvious enough to make her smile grow. "Dangerous. Very dangerous and reckless. It could've ended much, much worse. But that doesn't change the fact that it took courage."
"Dr. Goodwitch," Azeban asked, "what happens to us now? Are we...are we teams?"
Rip's appetite left him as he heard Azeban's question. The warmth of the table cooled as he realized the full implications of that question. He'd survived the day. He'd done what Roe had urged him and given the Hunters a chance. The idea of ever going back out into the forest to fight on the edge of life-or-death appealed to him not at all.
"Well, if everyone has eaten enough," the Huntress said, "there is a small, traditional matter to mark the occasion. If there are no objections?" Hesh rose before Rip could and nodded emphatically to his team.
"Very well," Dr. Goodwitch said, "Mr. Crane. Miss Quinn. Mr. Henry. Mr. Winkle." Rip's eyes screwed and he silently wished for oblivion. He heard Xan's crow for a minute.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, "what was that last name?"
"Miss Sabbatarian," Glynda said sternly, "Miss Falc, Miss Nahautl, and Mr. Bronze. If you could all follow me."
"Rip?" Azeban whispered to him as they left the dining hall. She was trying not to smile too much.
"Want me to really blow your mind? My first name is Quentin."
"Why do you call yourself Rip?"
"Because I wanna be taken seriously every so often," Rip muttered. "It's short for Ripley. My middle name."
"Oh," she said. He watched her try the name out in her head. She covered her mouth against a giggle. "Sorry. I'm so immature. Your name's-"
"Super goofy," he sighed, "but thanks." She cocked her head in confusion. Rip threw an arm around her as they walked. "For apologizing. Not everybody does. Just call me 'Rip'?" Azeban grinned and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, at an angle from their height differences.
"Of course," she replied.
"Had me a mate by the name o' Polly-Polly Pepper," Rhod said, "back home in Ainnis-Clotch." Everyone winced. "Aye. Polly got inna hoora lot o' fights."
"What in the world was the second Polly for? Were his middle and first name the same thing?" Hesh asked.
"His ma picked it oot," Rhod said, "his middle name was Kal."
Rip asked the obvious question.
"Polly-Polly Pepper loves his ma. He'd never wanta go by any other name."
"That's...actually pretty sweet," Azeban said. A second later she started to crack up. Rhod joined her with a bear-like chuckle and Rip snickered. Hesh shook his head at their antics though that just gave Rip a chance to catch his grin.
They found Professor Ozpin waiting for them at the Fountain of Orion. Rip noted that he was leaning on his cane more heavily than earlier. Other than that, his dark glasses and crisp clothing gave no indication of fatigue. Rip realized the Headmaster could be stone-cold if he wanted to be.
"I hate to interrupt anyone's dinner," Ozpin said, "but I think its best if this is done now before the day catches up to you completely." Rip stifled a yawn at the thought of sleeping. They hadn't even stopped to shower, they had been so hungry. Some of them were still strapped for a fight from the waist down.
"They're ready, Headmaster," Glynda said. She took a step forward and placed herself alongside Ozpin. They stood on either side of the fountain, where the statue of Orion's muscled back tensed an arrow at the night sky. Far beyond, Rip saw with a twinge of homesickness, the lights of Vale City glowed like a carnival above the dim, green midnight of the Emerald Forest.
It was all so quiet and peaceful now that he hardly believed the day had happened.
"Might I see the relics?" Hesh, Rhod, Maya, and Xan all held out their chess pieces. Rip noted with interest the intricacy of Xan's knight. It sat astride a rearing horse and hefted high a blank, fluttering banner. Next to that, the pawn tightly gripped in Hesh's hand seemed a little more noble and daring. The confidence in the tiny figure's stance made sense if, just behind him on the chessboard, a champion like Xan's knight reinforced him.
"Excellent," Ozpin said, "and well done to all of you. Today has been a very long, very trying day. It does my heart a great deal of good to see the eight of you here." Rip winced and felt the chicken salad in his stomach churn.
"It is the tradition of this Academy," Dr. Goodwitch recited, "in keeping with the first orders of Orion the Hunter, to bring up the next-generation in teams of four. When Scorpio, an immense Grimm, ravaged the kingdoms of ancient Vacuo, no army of men could stall it. Heroes marched out, heroes fought, and heroes died. Until Orion came from Mistral and gathered an army of heroes. No single warrior could claim the glory of killing Scorpio alone but Orion understood that glory was secondary to the safety of Remnant."
"From every corner of the world," Ozpin said, smiling with pride, "the heroes came together, Orion at their fore, to face the monster. Many of them fell, all of them were scarred forever in the combat, but in the end, Scorpio fell and the day belonged to the survivors. These were the first Hunters." Ozpin looked between them all. "This morning you were all as good as strangers, this evening you have tasted the oldest, bitterest war that ever plagued the people of Remnant. Before we assign teams and you start down the path of the Huntsman I ask that you reflect. Is this what you want? Are you prepared to go forward? Might or luck is nothing without heart."
Rip felt his heart sink. He couldn't possibly ruin this moment for Hesh, who'd wanted nothing less than everything Ozpin had said, but he couldn't commit the way the Headmaster wanted. He didn't know if it was what he wanted. He didn't entirely know what he wanted. He was bitter to be on the outside of what must've been for his friends the single greatest moment of their lives.
"Headmaster," Percy's voice was soft, but held not even a small tremble of uncertainty, "I am not." Ohlone couldn't stop a gasp and Rip looked at Xan with wary eyes. Xan was unmoving and unreadable, she waited for her partner to go on without comment.
"Mr. Bronze?" asked Glynda.
"In the forest," Percy said, "I fired my flare before we found the ruins. I got lost and I was scared. I know I cannot be a student here now, I've made peace with that, but I'm asking that you let Xan, Maya, and Ohlone stay. They're warriors. Real warriors who could be great Huntresses and they don't deserve to have me drag them down." His lip quivered. "I'm never going to be a Hunter. It was stupid of me to try and...and I don't want to mess up someone else life just because I can't stop doing things-"
"Percy," Xan snapped, "stop. We get it." Percy nodded and wiped away a tear.
"Mr. Bronze," Ozpin said, "was Beacon your first choice?"
"Sir?" said Percy.
"Of academies," Ozpin said, "this wasn't your first choice was it?" Percy frowned and looked like he wanted to sink into the pavement and hide away.
"No, sir, I wanted to go to Haven. I couldn't pass the exam so I came here instead." Rip's eyebrows shot upwards.
"Do you want to be a Hunter, young man?" Ozpin asked. Percy's shimmering eyes beheld the Headmaster with clear confusion. But a moment later he nodded.
"More than anything, Headmaster. More than anything in the world." Ozpin smiled and gestured to the fountain behind him.
"Then what is a moment of fear? There was a time we never gave out flares. There was a time the Hunter's Academy was down there in the Emerald Forest, where all those ruins now sit. Times change and the world changes with it. The rules we put in place must bend and shift or they'll simply shatter under the wrong kind of pressure. I won't lie to any of you. The Hunters need new blood. They need you."
Rip felt the spell Ozpin's words had cast break around him and his lip turned in a scowl.
Cool. So that's how it really is, huh?
"Thank you, sir," Percy said, "I'm h-honored."
"Any other objections?" Ozpin asked.
A few. Rip glanced at his friends and their eager, expectant faces. But they can wait til after this little ceremony.
"Then Xanthus Sabbatarian, Ohlone Falc, Mayahual Nahuatl, and Perseus Bronze," Ozpin said solemnly, "I welcome you to the Beacon Academy and look forward to helping you grow into young Hunters."
"Another of our traditions is the adoption of colors as names. Henceforth your team shall be called Team Zomp." Xan rolled her eyes and mouthed the word. "Which you shall be leading Miss Sabatarian."
"Me? Hang on a moment-" Percy nudged her and shushed her. Xan reluctantly did as she was told.
"Hessian Crane, Azeban Quinn, Rhodizite Henry," Headmaster Ozpin said, his eyes twinkled as he looked Rip in the face, "and Rip. I welcome you to Beacon Academy and look forward to helping you grow into young Hunters." Rip gave him a pinched smile and a nod.
"Team Harlequin," Dr. Goodwitch smiled, "you shall be lead by Hessian Crane." Rip smiled at Hesh out of the corner of his eye.
Hesh's face looked like he'd heard the time and date of his death read aloud.
"Students," Ozpin said, "tomorrow is yours to move in and unpack. Please, enjoy yourselves and get some well-earned rest. Dr. Goodwitch will answer any questions you might have." Rip resisted the urge to start after him as he limped away on his cane.
"Room assignments are prepared, if you'll all follow me," Dr. Goodwitch said.
"Team Zomp," Xan griped as they began to trickle away from the fountain and toward the white towers of the dormitories. "Is there a name more ridiculous?"
"Coming, Rip?" Hesh asked. Rip stretched and yawned.
"Yeah, just," he thought up a lie, "need a minute of fresh air. I'll find it no problem." His team gave him a curious look but let him be. Rip smiled sadly as they left.
"Sorry, guys," he whispered, "I'm sure we all could've gotten along really well in the long run. But this...this isn't me." They were well past the point where they would hear him.
He followed after the Headmaster with all the guilt and stealth of a petty thief. He finally caught up to him at an odd, abandoned corner of the main campus.
The paved walkway slimmed and stopped in a circle around a standing block of black granite. Ozpin disappeared around behind it and Rip crept forward. Across the reflective face, which mirrored Rip's whole body, some soft light brought out a somber epitaph.
To Commemorate those in the Classes of 1835 and 1836, who gave their lives in the defense of Vale City and all her people, this stone is offered by a grateful nation in shared grief. May it bear the memories, of heroism and heartache, that belong to all Remnant.
Beneath them was a quote Rip recognized from Martian the Wanderer's Deadliest Hunt.
'I did not write half of what I saw, for I knew no-one would believe me.'
And further below that he read.
Class Song of 1835: 'Am I alright? Hey. Not tonight. Save that question for tomorrow.'
Class Song of 1836: 'Baby, you better know, I'm not like anybody else in this world.'
Snippets of old pop-songs. Neither of which he knew by heart. But something in them made him realize he'd started to tear up.
"Can you believe they put his name up top?" a voice snorted behind the stone. Rip bit back a gasp of surprise.
"It was in no particular order, York," Headmaster Ozpin sighed, "you must understand that."
"I understand that Ketch Headsman was a top-tier a-hole. You know he used to punch me, right here," Rip heard York tap himself, "whenever I was the last one out of the lockers. This is after you kicked him to the curb Sophmore year, by the way."
"You never said," Ozpin replied.
"Didn't want you to think less of me," muttered York. Rip heard a match strike
against the face of the memorial.
"York!"
"Don't start with me," York snarled, Rip heard him puff a few times and smelled cigar
smoke curl around the black stone, "don't even try to start with me."
"You asked to see me, York, I didn't realize you would be here. What do you want to
know?" Rip leaned closer out reflexively, his reflection had adopted a look of covert fascination.
"Dot Blue-Gingham, Brave Leo Tawny, and that total waste of air Ketch Headsman.
And dozens of other unlucky kids who decided to go play Huntsman. My god, what were we thinking? What were you thinking, Ozzie? That's what I want to know. What were we thinking trying to dress up in Orion's legacy?"
"I meant," Ozpin said, sounding exhausted, "what did you want to know about today?"
"Oh," York said, "well, I figure you'll just lie to me about that any which way I ask it so let's just save us both the time. Huh?"
There was a long silence that made Rip quiet his own slow breathing for fear he might be heard.
"Wow!" York exclaimed. Rip nearly jumped. "You aren't even denying it anymore. You aren't even giving me a holier-than-thou look that says I'm wrong."
"I am tired, York," Ozpin said, "please. No games."
"Right," York sniffed, "no games. What do I really want to know? From you, Sage Ozpin? Let me ask you point-blank. Why didn't you help me?"
"I don't under-" Ozpin began.
"Don't even try that with me," York snapped, "you understand perfectly. Why didn't you help me? Why'd you leave me standing on Harley Street, Dot's blood on my goddamn shoes, so blitzed with terror I couldn't even remember my own name. Why? Why'd you do it?"
"York, that isn't fair," Ozpin said. York erupted.
"Nothing is fair! Nothing about anything we do is fair, Ozzie! Wake up to that right now cause I've known it for nearly forty years! It's not fair our friends died in Mountain Glenn! It's not fair every real Hunter was clearing the Grimm off Menagerie when it happened and we were left holding the bag!"
"I know, York," Ozpin said, "I was there too."
"I'm not saying you weren't, Ozzie. I'm asking you why did you leave me by myself when you could've helped me!"
"York," Ozpin said, "I'm sorry."
"I don't care if you're sorry," York thundered, "I want to know why! I stood there with Ketch Headsman dying next to me, Oz! Dying. Grabbing my hand and mumbling about his mother and I'm trying to find a way to make him feel ok because what else am I supposed to do? Then, right then, in the middle of the worst day of my life, who's that up the alley? Framed in the light of a burning high-rise? Oz the Great and Terrible! Hero of the Class of 1836! Savior of all Vale City!"
"York!" Ozpin snapped. When York spoke next his voice trembled.
"Did you lose your nerve, Ozzie? Where you scared? If you were scared, just tell me. I was scared. All of us were. None of us was even twenty-years-old and they sent us into a meat-grinder. Was that it? Were you scared? Just tell me if you were scared!"
"No," Ozpin said, sounding not at all proud or defensive, "I wasn't scared."
'Then why? Why didn't you help me?"
Ozpin said nothing.
"I'm sorry," Ozpin said, "York, please believe if nothing else that I am so, so sorry I left you there."
"Why should I? Why should I ever believe you about anything?" Rip heard York grind something, his cigar most likely, under the heel of his shoe. "You gonna talk to our eavesdropper or should I?"
Rip covered his mouth as he gasped.
"Don't start in on him, York," Ozpin said, his tone suddenly dangerous.
"Me? Who, me? I got no reason to be ashamed. I ain't said a thing I wouldn't want someone else to hear about me. He can spread that around the dining hall tomorrow for all I care." York coughed, snorted, and spat. "Unless you want me to read him the riot act?"
"I'll handle him," Ozpin said, Rip rolled his eyes, "Rip? Come on around. What's on your mind?"
Rip rounded the corner and was faced with the small, sad sneer of York Duchy for a moment. The bitter Hunter turned away and considered the names on the memorial once more. He muttered something that Rip didn't catch.
"Are you here to tell me you're not going to join us, Rip?" Ozpin asked. He was sad, disappointed even, but Rip got none of the harshnesses he'd been expecting.
"I-yes," he said.
"I see," Ozpin shifted his stance a little, leaning on his cane more, "well, I suppose there's no talking you out of it. Hmm? If you're heart's not in it then there's not much point. I said as much to Mr. Bronze." He offered him a sad smile. "Take the night to rest up and we'll handle it in the morning. I'm sorry that you won't be joining us."
"What a load of crap," York said bluntly.
"Excuse me?" Rip asked. He felt tempted to fall into a ready stance when York looked at him. There was an intense emotion in his face that made Rip nervous.
"You. You little punk. And you, you washed-up old wimp," he spat at Ozpin, "just patting him on the head and letting him go. Have some self-respect! You're always going on at me about how much this school means to you but the first reedy kid to say 'o-oh I-I-I don't think this is f-f-for me' just gets a little smile and a wish good luck."
"I didn't say that!" Rip said, face flushing.
"No," York said, shooting him a sour frown, "you couldn't even pony up the guts to do that! You couldn't say this in front of your teammates at all! Huh? For god's sake kid you fought a Wechuge earlier today why the in the world is this any more frightening than that!"
"York!" Ozpin snapped. York whirled on him.
"No, shut up! You're going to stand here in front of Dot, Leon, Toto, and that asshat Ketch while trying to say 'don't be too harsh on the kid'? What about them, Ozzie? What about us? Did anyone ever go easy on us?"
Rip and Ozpin stared in silence as York took a few huge breaths of air. He fixed a stray strand of his dyed ponytail before speaking again.
"Kid," he said to Rip, "you march right over to the dorms, find your team, and tell them you're quitting. And don't start with me about it because that, however you slice it, is what you're doing! You are quitting! If you were leaving tomorrow to go kill every Grimm in the world by yourself you would still be quitting the Hunters. That's not the problem I got with you cuz I know better than most how tempting that idea is!"
"York," Ozpin said, more softly, "you don't mean that."
"Screw you," York growled, "and everything you think you know about me."
He jabbed his finger into Rip's face.
"If you can't tell your teammates that you want to quit," he said, "you don't deserve to do it! I don't give a rat's bald tail if you're gutsy or gutless. I don't even care if you don't want to be a Hunter or not! But you do not have my permission to go anywhere or do anything until you tell your team, to their faces, that you are quitting!"
Rip was speechless.
"No?" York said.
"I-I," Rip stammered, "I can't."
"Well, then," York clapped him on the shoulders, making him jump, "welcome to Beacon, kid, the taps in the locker rooms are always reversed. So make sure you keep the temperatures reversed! Ozzie, I'm leaving."
"So soon?" Ozpin asked. Rip watched his face twist with sadness as he watched the hunched, leisure-suit covered shoulders slouch away toward the front of the school.
"I have had enough of this place for another lifetime," York said over his shoulders, "and I'm ready to give my report."
Rip and Ozpin stood in the memorial circle for a minute before either of them spoke.
"He-" Rip started and hiccuped. Ozpin looked at him.
"He's wrong about me," Rip snapped, sniffling a little.
"Don't take his words too harshly, Rip," Ozpin said, "York's...had a very hard life. He lost a lot of his friends when he was no older than you."
"Yeah, well, good for him! I'm not...I don't have to do what he said! Right? I can just go if I want to?" Ozpin nodded.
Rip's eyes traced the dozens of names written across the memorial. Their syllables formed out inside his head in vague guesses at how to say them. He wondered what their nicknames were and what inside jokes they'd had.
Who hated the class song and griped about it every chance they got? Who was brave? Who was just lucky? Who were they?
"My classmates," Ozpin said. Rip realized he'd spoken aloud.
"They died?" He called himself stupid for asking such an obvious question but the way Ozpin answered soothed him.
"Yes," he said, "in Mountain Glenn when the whole world was ending. There weren't enough Hunters in the city, you see. So many were in Menagerie, trying to clear the way for the initial settlers who'd build the cities where the Faunus were...forced to go."
"That," Rip said, anger ringing his voice, "that's the reason Mountain Glenn fell? Because everybody else off clearing a prison island so some assholes could send millions of innocent people there?" The Forced Migration was the darkest stain in recent history. He'd never learned from anyone, school or otherwise, how it bled down the fabric of time and into the horror of Mountain Glenn.
"There's an old belief," Ozpin said, "that Grimm feed off negative emotions and that is why they are so dangerous in times of war and strife. But belief forms around reality, not the other way around. Yes, Rip, many of my friends died because of that terrible injustice."
"That's not fair," Rip said.
"No," Ozpin replied. Rip's fingernails bit into his palms as his whole body trembled with feeling.
He read the last bit of script, written at the bottom of the list of names.
And all those, unnamed and unnumbered, who fell beside them on that night.
"I'll stay," he said, "I'll stay for now." Ozpin's hand touched his shoulder and Rip felt himself empty of the pain that seemed to be his whole world.
"Thank you, Rip, for trying," Ozpin looked past the monument and at the high spires of the Academy. The white arches seemed to reach out and cradle the black stone in arms of ivory. "Trying is the action of today. Success is the question of tomorrow."
XXX
Editors Note: Hello All! This chapter was delayed significantly, mostly due to complications in my life (I'm moving) which lead me to decide this chapter would go up mid-week to make up for lost time. I hope you all enjoyed this arc, we have a final epilogue chapter to round things out, but this phase of HARQ's story is finally done! We will be taking a break from HARQ after uploading our epilogue this Sunday, it will be on 'temporary hiatus' until we've had some time to adjust to life changes and just take a break from the "every weekend" upload schedule for a while.
It's been much fun to write all of this, and wonderful to know others are reading it. We hope you'll keep up with us once we return. As always, all forms of feedback are welcome, so please leave a review if you like. Thank you for reading!
