Jaune pushed open the door to the smoking lounge and stepped inside. The lights buzzed faintly in the background when he flipped the switch to the right of the door. There were no windows in the room except for a large half circle of decorative glass that stood at the top of the far wall. The smoking lounge was where his father and grandfather would step away from the tidal wave of estrogen that was his sisters and mother. A massive mahogany bar, water stained and chipped from generations of use with red topped wooden bar stools, stood against the right wall. Behind it was rows of wood and glass shelves that housed a myriad of liquor bottles and glasses that stood like soldiers in parade rest. Against the far wall was a cabinet filled with boxes of cigars, cigarettes and tins of pipe tobacco with a row of beautifully carved pipes on display above. To his left was a pool table. Its surface was a rich scarlet, its sides were intricately carved into scenes of battle and victory over the grimm with almost claw-like legs to support it. Behind the pool the cues rested in wooden mountings on the wall. A well rounded chalk brick was mounted there as well. The walls themselves were dark walnut panels that matched the forest green carpeting underneath their feet.
Qrow stepped in from behind him and let out a low whistle. "Your grandparents had some nice tastes, kid." he made his way behind the bar and picked up a bottle of Menagerian Rum. "I don't think i've ever seen some of these."
Jaune rolled his eyes and made his way over to the tobacco cabinet. "You should see the cellar. There's a whole wall dedicated to wines over a hundred years old." he opened the cabinet and inspected the cigars. When he finally spotted his favorite brand, a southern Valeian tobacco called WhiteRose, he plucked it from the wooden box. Jaune rarely smoked nowadays, never cigarettes at least. No, his grandfather had been the one to impress upon him the need a man has for a good smoke every once in a while. He remembered when he turned fifteen and the man had brought him here and, in his words, bestowed the wisdom every civilized man needs to survive. The fact that this 'wisdom' included things like how to smoke a cigar, identify a good brandy by smell alone, the four basic cocktails every man should know how to make, (a Valeian, a Vacuan Daiquiri, An Atlesian Martini and a Mistrali Sidecar among others) and last but not least a mastery of the game of pool, A.K.A that one time grandpa taught him how to hustle. That last one had come in far more handy than he'd ever admit on the way through Anima.
Needless to say his mother and grandfather had… words, after she found out.
"So, what's your poison?" Qrow asked while he picked through the valley of liquors.
"Bourbon." Jaune said as he grabbed a cigar cutter and snipped the end.
Qrow let out a hum as he reached for the bottle of brown liquid. "Figured you for a Rum kinda guy."
Jaune sighed. "Yeah, well. There's a lot of things people don't know about me, apparently." he grabbed a box of matches and struck one. Holding the match in one hand and the cigar in the other he put them to his mouth. Slowly rotating it as he used his cheeks to draw in air. As he puffed, smoke began to waft from his mouth in hazy plumes of gray. Jaune relished the taste of the cigar smoke against his tongue. He dropped the match in an ashtray as he took a large drag, closing his eyes as the sensation washed through him like a steady wave on the ocean. After a couple of seconds of silence he glanced over to see Qrow staring at him with a raised brow. "What?" he asked.
Qrow shrugged. "didn't know you smoked."
Jaune sat down at the bar and exhaled a long draft of smoke. "On occasion." he chuckled. "You should have seen my mom the day she caught me smoking down here with my grandfather. Thought she was going to tear the place down chasing us."
"Sounds like you had a good childhood. Rare thing in huntsmen nowadays" Qrow set two glasses down in front of him and popped the lid of a half empty bottle of Vitalian Bourbon. The old hunter poured a few thumbs in each and slid it across the bartop to Jaune's waiting hand, who just hummed in response. "What should we drink too?" he asked, holding up his glass.
Jaune snorted. "World peace and a swift death?"
Qrow frowned at the blond man and shook his head. "To the ones we've lost." he raised his glass. "To Summer..." he raised his glass.
Jaune felt his throat catch. "Pyrrha…" there was a quiet clink when his glass struck Qrow's. The older hunter, throwing back his entire glass while Jaune just took a small sip. He enjoyed the flavor as it hit his tongue. The burn as it slid down his throat chasing away the slight chill in the air.
Silence reigned over the pair. Qrow just refilled his glass as Jaune absentmindedly puffed on his cigar. "Did Ruby ever tell you about her?" Qrow asked, tentatively. "Summer, i mean."
Jaune thought back to when they were traveling across Anima. Ruby hadn't exactly been the most talkative those first few weeks but she had opened up a bit more to them later on in the trip. A bit after he had upgraded his armor, if he remembered right. "Not much. Other than she was a 'super mom.' 'Slayer of grimm and baker of cookies!' that's what she said."
Qrow laughed at this. It was probably the first time he had seen the man with a genuine smile on his face. "She was all that and more. A lot of people assume Tai was my partner at Beacon but it was Summer. She was something else kid, let me tell ya." Qrow had a far away look in his eyes as he said this. For a moment he seemed lost in good memories. Jaune knew this look well. "You know on the first day of Beacon she convinced me to wear a skirt?"
Jaune chuckled. "Really?"
Qrow nodded with a large grin on his face. "She bet Tai fifty lien that she could get me to wear a skirt. Hell, I was raised by bandits. I didn't know what a uniform was." he leaned his hip against the bar and refilled his glass. "told me it was a kilt. Walked into Port's class twenty minutes late and everyone just stopped. A few seconds of silence then Port says 'nice legs Mr. Brawnwen!'" Qrow had a lopsided grin on his face as he said this. "Tai still hasn't let me live it down."
"What'd you do?" Jaune asked, genuinely curious to see the old man's reaction.
Qrow threw his leg on top of the bar and spread his arms wide like he was presenting a prized dog. "Ladies!" Jaune let out a full bellied laugh while Qrow lost his balance and stumbled back. The old reaper caught himself and Joined the blond knight in his laughter. "Come on, kid. You went to Beacon, same as me." Qrow spoke up as their howling died down. "I know you got some stories in there somewhere."
Jaune sat silently for a few seconds as he rolled a few less than pleasant memories around his head. It had been a long time since he'd thought about Beacon. Well, the good parts anyway. He realized with a start that had things not gone so awry… they'd have been Juniors this year. He took a slow deliberate drag from his cigar before blowing it out in a large plume of thick smoke, a deep frown set on his face.
They should've been Juniors this year.
That thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He cleared his throat to relive the dryness it had suddenly developed and took another sip of his drink, the burn from the alcohol was a small comfort. Letting out a slow breath he gently ran the edge of his cigar around the rim of the tray to knock off some of the ash. "We never needed an alarm clock at Beacon. Did you know that?"
Qrow cocked an eyebrow. He was happy the kid finally decided to speak. "Why's that?" prompting Jaune to continue.
"Pyrrha." a smile spread over his face at the memory. "When the sun was up, she was up. Every day, like clockwork... But that wasn't why we never needed one." Jaune took a quick hit off his cigar. Grandpa Arc's wisdom number fourteen: if you pause for dramatic effect, try and have something in your hands. Builds suspense. "Every day at about seven, Pyrrha would take a shower. And she would sing. And, gods would she sing! First day of class, at seven o'clock we hear her in the shower for the first time. Nora broke down the door because she thought Pyrrha was being mauled by an ursa!" Qrow began to snort with mirth. "Seriously, who knew the Goddess-of-victory was tone deaf!" Jaune finally broke down in a fit of laughter. "She sounded like someone dropped gravel in a blender and hit puree!"
It didn't take Jaune long to catch on to what Qrow was doing. The two huntsmen sat in that haze filled room. Qrow, doing what he'd done a thousand times, sitting at a bar Bullshitting with a fellow huntsman. A tradition as old as the grimm, shared by a lodge of men and women so disconnected from the rest of mundane society that it was hard to talk to anyone but another Hunter. It was nerve racking the first time a Hunter realized it, or at least it was for Jaune. The first time he'd realize he was just as dangerous as the monsters he hunted. Qrow realized it the day he discovered his semblance and nearly got Tai killed. Jaune had realized it the day he had pulled a civilian faunus girl out of the way of a Creep. The knight had torn her shoulder out of its socket and had to rush her to the nearest clinic. Jaune had saved her life, sure... but she'd still never regain full use of her arm. He knew he was stronger than he had been at Beacon but it never dawned on him how strong he was compared to a normal person. A person that could never hope to kill even a newborn beowulf.
Jaune was grateful to the old crow. He needed this 'talk' for a long time now. Everytime team RNJR had stopped in a village they had either stayed in a tavern or, more often than not, a Hunter's lodge. And every time Jaune would inevitably find another Hunter to talk to. So he followed their example. Jaune and Qrow shared stories for what felt like hours. Like the first time Summer got drunk and ran around the Beacon statue in Raven's clothes. That time Pyrrha had fallen asleep in Port's class and had been so startled when Port accidentally knocked a book off his desk she made every piece of metal in the room jump a foot to the left, including Jaune since he had volunteered that day. How Tai had passed out the day Raven told him she was pregnant, then did it again with Summer. The one time Nora was 'absolutely fine' when a pretty waitress back in Vale had flirted with Ren, and the normally bubbly girl had crushed the corner of a table between her thumb and forefinger. The real reason Glynda Goodwitch used a riding crop. Team RNJR and the adventures of bathing in a river in the middle of winter. Taiyang and the abysmal failures of asking out Raven Brawnwen. Seriously, the guy was somehow worse than he was when he asked out Weiss.
"So," Jaune took a small puff from his cigar, "i've got a question."
Qrow relaxed against the bar. "Shoot, kid."
"So Yang fights with her fists because her dad fights with his fists, right, and..." the knight took a sip from his half empty glass.
Qrow shook his head and cut the knight off. "Actually, Tai fights with a staff most of the time. He tried to teach Yang to use one but she never really got the hang of it. Always smacking herself in the head. Then she'd get mad and punch trees until she calmed down. Tai figured out pretty quick that she was better suited for hand to hand. Course, this was after she hit him with a tree."
Jaune blinked. "'Hit him... with a tree?'" he said, slowly.
Qrow just smiled. "Yup, ripped it right out of the ground and sent him flying. Tai was so damn proud. Wouldn't stop smiling for weeks." Well, that certainly sounded very… Yang-ish? Yang-y? It was one of those two.
Jaune always assumed the man fought with his fists like his daughter. The more you know, he supposed. "That's not what I was gonna ask." he waved a hand in the air as if trying to clear his thoughts. "Anyway, so, Ruby uses a scythe because you use a scythe. I gotta ask, what kind of weapon did Summer use, Was it a scythe too?"
Qrow shook his head with a rueful smile on his face. "No, she used this massivedust spear that could shift into a rifle. She called it 'Rose's Thorn.' The firing mechanism in Crescent Rose is actually the same one from Summer's" Qrow reached up and began to gently stroke the cross hanging around his neck, a far off look in his eyes. "It's the only thing I… we found of her, besides her cloak."
Jaune hesitantly reached out and laid a comforting hand on Qrow's shoulder. He remembered the day after the fall when they gave him the remains of Pyrrha's weapons and her circlet. There hadn't even been a body to bury. No real way to say goodbye. Jaune understood Qrow as a person a little better now. The drinking, the isolation, the feeling of absolute failure and a burden to those around them. Jaune from his own weakness and lack of fighting skill and Qrow with his uncontrollable semblance that made him a danger to just exist around.
The minutes ticked by as Jaune steadily sipped at his drink. Qrow was shifting through the bottles on the wall trying to distract himself from the memories unintentionally dredged to the surface of his mind. While Jaune hadn't meant to bring the mood down with his question, he certainly succeeded. Still, there was one question that burned far worse than the alcohol in his glass. "How long, Qrow?"
The hunter turned and regarded Jaune with an even stare. "How long what, kid?"
"How long have you been working for Ozpin?"
Qrow let the question hang in the air as he gathered his thoughts. He wasn't sure he liked where this question was going to lead but he knew it was going to be asked eventually. Finally he sighed and ran a hand through his messy black hair. "We were eighteen when Oz approached us, me and Rae. it wasn't long after that he… turned us."
"Why you?" Jaune asked, his voice even.
"Simple," Qrow shrugged and poured himself another tumblerful. "We're Branwens. To tell you the truth, we weren't that much more skilled than your average hunter. There really wasn't anything special about us. But growing up with bandits that valued survival of the fittest over everything else meant that we could do one thing that a lot of other hunters couldn't." he downed his glass and slammed it down on the table with a loud clunk. "We could survive. Doesn't matter if it was the grimm lands or the wilds. That… and no one would miss two bandit kids if something went wrong."
A pit dropped into Jaune's stomach as he let Qrows words sink in. "you're disposable…"
Qrow nodded. "Got it in one, Rae figured it out a lot sooner than I did." Was that all they were to Ozpin, disposable pawns? The more he thought about it the more sense it started to make. Ren and Nora were orphans, no family or home that would miss them. Jaune cheated his way into Beacon and came from a long lineage of warriors, if Ozpin needed he could have held that over his head. Pyrrha was a champion fighter that desperately wanted to be accepted as a normal girl and was easily manipulated because of it. Ruby had magic eyes that could freeze a grimm solid and wanted to be a huntress just like her favorite uncle and mother. An uncle that worked under him directly. Yang would follow Ruby to make sure she was safe, but she was also a thrill seeker. All it would have taken was to dangle this in front of her nose and she would probably have jumped at the chance. Faunus' rights and protection was deeply ingrained into Blake from birth. All it would have taken were a few well thought out arguments about protecting her species and she would have fought regardless. Weiss was a powerful heiress from an exceedingly wealthy and politically influential family. The amount of resources she once had access to was staggering, to say the least. On top of that, she was trained to wield those resources like a weapon almost from birth.
Jaune felt a deep cold settle in his bones. The more information he learned about Ozpin, even the tiniest almost insignificant details, revealed so much about the ancient wizard currently using a fifteen year old child as a meat shield. Jaune also realized something very important. He realized how flawed his thinking had been up until this point.
They weren't fighting a war.
In war you could win or you could lose, and they could not win against Salem. No… No, this was a siege. Only, they weren't the ones doing the siegeing. Salem had them surrounded on all fronts. She controlled the Grimm and little by little she had chipped away at the people of Remnant.
Places like Vale and Atlas suddenly looked a lot less like cities and more like cages. The kingdoms had borders, sure, but those borders weren't enforced because the Kingdoms wanted them enforced. They existed because the Grimm population were so thick that they formed a natural barrier between territories. Trade between Vacuo and Vale was strictly air travel because land travel was suicide and what little railways that did exist were heavily guarded. The shallow straight between Vale and Mistral were incredibly dangerous because of the Aquatic grimm species that lived there. Solitas was surrounded by a deep ocean, naturally cut off from the rest of the world. Grimm studies taught them that the grimm populations were naturally thick around kingdom borders because the lack of a huntsmen presence allowed them to reproduce unchecked. But now that he knew Salem existed and the grimm had a queen… they were there because Salem wanted them there. Another tool to further weaken and divide humanity.
The worst part of all of this, Jaune realized, was that Salem and Ozpin had time on their side. Not the kind of time as Jaune or any normal person could understand it. But the kind of time that was usually reserved for fantasy novels. Salem didn't need to chase them. She didn't need to kill them or take the relic right now. She didn't need to attack Vale or Atlas. She didn't even need to look for them. All she had to do was wait… it wasn't like they could stay here in his dingy little castle forever, and even if they could, eventually they would grow old… weak. Eventually they wouldn't be able to fight anymore. Unable to protect the relic. If they didn't die protecting it they'd have to do what Ozpin had probably done a thousand times. Pass it on to the next generation, and a new Ozpin with it.
All the while Salem was free to pick at the little strings that held the world together and one by one they would fall. Pushed further towards the abyss. It didn't matter to Salem how long a goal took to achieve. It was with a sick realization that it wouldn't have mattered to Salem if Beacon had fallen or not. She could always try again, whether it was in ten years… or a hundred. Jaune wouldn't have been surprised if Salem had attacked Beacon just to spite Ozpin. After all, success and failure were meaningless concepts to someone who had all the time in the world to try again… and again… and again…
"Qrow…" Jaune hesitated as he met the older hunters eyes. He had to know for sure. "Did Ozpin ever talk about any kind of plan, a way to defeat Salem, anything..."
Qrow was silent for a moment as he tried to think through his growing buzz. Finally he shook his head. "Oz always used to talk about Salem's plans, how she ticked, that sort of thing. He never really talked about the war. It was always the next mission and what we learned about her plans. I… I just assumed he was always working on something and he'd let us know when the time was right…" Qrow trailed off as swirled the liquor around his glass, a deep frown set on his face.
That was it, then. Jaune didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry at that moment. Ozpin never intended to beat Salem. He was just doing damage control. All Ozpin was really doing was mitigating the destruction and cleaning up the messes she caused as they happened. Stalling for time until he could figure out the right questions to ask an ugly lamp. At the end of the day, the great and powerful Headmaster Ozpin was nothing more than a Janitor for a fucking madwoman. The huntsman academies he controlled were nothing but recruitment centers for the desperate and the mildly useful.
It also called into question every major event in the last century. The great war… History told them it started over land disputes between Mistral and Vale as well as Mistral's use of slave labor and oppression of its outer territories. Atlas was also a major factor being that it actively encouraged Mistral's less than savory practices at the time. But when you add Salem and Ozpin to the mix a lot things are brought into question. How much of the politics and attitudes of the early kingdoms were born from the manipulations of the two immortals? Vale's king was heralded as a mighty warrior, able to devastate entire armies with a single swing of his sword. He'd need to check into that, considering his great grandfather served under the man, he doubted it would be hard to find an unabridged record of the man in the library. It smelled like Ozpin, that's for sure.
Mantle and Atlas really didn't have a reason to expand into Vale beyond greed. He'd walked across Anima, that was a lot of country and resources to be used. So it wasn't like a lack of resources was an issue. No, Mistral had taken Atlas's stance and cracked down on self expression to a totalitarian degree at the time. That kind of iron rule breeds contempt and plethora of other negative emotions. It was said that grimm activity back then was extremely high compared to today, as well. It all reeked of Salem just as much as Vale did Ozpin.
"Hey!" Jaune was pulled out of the hellish rabbit hole his mind was spiraling into when Qrow slapped him on the shoulder. "Enough of that. Take a look at this." Jaune frowned in confusion as Qrow pushed his scroll into his hands and pushed play on a video. Jaune watched the video. His eyebrows disappearing higher into his hairline with every frame.
There, in his hands, was a video of a little Ruby Rose, couldn't have been more than seven years old. Wearing a pink dress covered in little strawberries with a bright red cape hanging from her shoulders. She was standing in front of a mirror with a fan that was nearly as big as she was propped up next to her. A bright toothy grin on her face, complete with missing front teeth, as she practiced superhero poses with her cape billowing heroically behind her. The whole thing was shot through a crack in the door to her room.
This was the single greatest video Jaune had ever seen…
"Not even Yang has that one. Doesn't even know it exists." Qrow said smugly as he leaned back against the bar.
"Send it to me?" Jaune considered himself above many things. But growing up with seven sisters, blackmail was not one of them. That… and Yang was gonna get a kick out of this.
Jaune's cigar eventually made its grave in the ashtray after he let it burn out on the edge of the rim. Qrow emptied the bottle shortly after and Jaune even had a few more tumblrs. He had to admit that he felt a lot lighter. Some of the tension had eased off his shoulders, while a headache formed behind his eyes. Thinking about Ozpin was turning out to be bad for his blood pressure, With that in mind, Jaune stood shakily from the bar and stretched his back. "I think I'm done for the night, old man."
Qrow barked a laugh. "Who are you calling old? I'm in the prime of my life!"
Jaune just rolled his eyes and made for the door. He paused "you staying?" and gestured at the bar.
Qrow just shrugged and reached for another bottle, he hesitated, hand hovering millimeters above it's glossy surface before he turned to Jaune. "Listen, kid." Qrow said in a somber tone. "They tell us that we have to let go. That we have to move on and accept that they're gone. But the truth is, people like us, we can't do that." Qrow gazed down at the brown liquid in front of him. His face, a mocking reflection on its surface. "It doesn't matter how long they've been with us. Eventually you look back and you see two shadows behind you and you know that your partner is there to watch your back. And then one day… all you see is your own shadow, alone again." The silence was deafening but for the faint ticking of the clock somewhere far away. "The world becomes a far more terrifying place when that happens." Qrow set the bottle back on the shelf. "Do me a favor, kid. With the kind of life we lead… if you find a little bit of happiness, I want you to take it. If you don't you're going to end up like me."
"A dusty old crow?"
"Nope." Qrow said, popping the p with a sad sigh "Someone who missed their shot a long time ago."
Jaune paused in the doorway. "Practice what you preach, Qrow." he closed the door on his way out. Jaune stood there in the hall and let his eyes rest for a few seconds. The after effects of the Bourbon and the Cigar still coursing through his veins like a rabid beowulf. He wasn't drunk, two glasses of liquor wasn't much to someone his size, but the cold air of the empty hallway began to chase away the heaviness under his eyes. Wearily he checked his scroll to see the time. Twelve fifteen blinked, mockingly up at him from the small white device. Vaguely he wondered who might be up at this hour. He wasn't exactly keen on running into his friends right now. Ren and Nora were a definite maybe, depending on if Ren managed to calm Nora down. Oscar and Ruby, he banked on being asleep. He wouldn't put it past Blake and Yang to still be up. Call it a gut feeling and leave it at that. Weiss… he doubted she would be up. Not that wouldn't mind her company if she was.
His mind flicked back to the library when she had held his head in her hands. He could still feel the lingering sensation of her soft hands when they had brushed across the stubble of his cheeks. She always seemed to have a calming effect on him. That woman could have him wrapped around her dainty fingers if she ever truly wanted it. Even now, even after everything that had happened. He'd tried to bury those feelings of course. Even as he stood in that drafty hallway. Now certainly wasn't the time and besides, that ship crashed and burned before it made it out of the harbor.
Jaune realized that sleep probably wasn't in the cards right now. Which was unfortunate because for the first time in a long time he just felt…
Tired.
The last few weeks just seemed so... dense. Disaster after disaster. First Haven, then Weiss, the Train, Ozpin and the relic, endangering Argus and his family. Any of these on their own would have taken its toll on even a normal Huntsman, but to have them happen back to back was overwhelming. It was like fighting Yang with his hands tied. Each event was like a blow to the cranium with all the stress and panic they brought. And that's not even counting the Grimm they had fought in between.
Jaune's legs carried him forward as he wandered his ancestral home. His body moved slowly, mechanically as his mind slipped into a numb trance. Memories, both good and bad, began to flicker in his head like a silent film reel.
Blake sat against the headboard of the bed she and Yang had chosen. They took what she now realized was Saphron's old Room. or at least that's who she thought the room belonged to considering there was only one bed and a picture of the woman with her arms thrown around Terra and another woman who she guessed was one of the older Arc sisters. She had discarded her gear for a surprisingly comfortable thin blue robe she had found while raiding the closet for the sheets.
Balanced on her knees was one of the books she had raided from the bookshelf in the corner of the room. Idly she realized that she had been attempting to re-read the same paragraph three times. With an annoyed huf she snapped it closed and tossed it on the bright blue night stand. It was a really good book too. Jaune's sisters obviously had exceptional taste. Resting her head against her knees and folding her hands over her stomach, Blake wondered what was taking Yang so long. The blond had left to find Jaune to try and apologize. She had only been gone maybe ten minutes but already she was beginning to feel anxious. Yang wasn't the most… level headed at the best of times. Especially when she was particularly emotional about something. Blake hoped she and Jaune wouldn't get into a fight over this, considering who was apologizing, it was a very real possibility.
Blake closed her eyes and tried to relax. She felt mentaly drained. The past forty eight hours had been hectic in the worst ways. She tried hard not to let her mind wander towards the fight with Adam but the more she tried, the harder it became. She pulled herself into a tighter ball as her ears flattened against her head, the fight replayed in her mind like a bad dream. Her breathing slowly evening out as she desperately tried to recover from the last minutes. The fear that had been driven into her chest gnawing at the edges of her mind when she got to the part where Adam had used his semblance. The relief she had felt when she saw Yang's new arm had taken the bulk of the damage. Finally she came to the end. When she and Yang drove the two halves of her broken sword through his chest. How she had felt so... relieved, She had broken down and desperately clutched at Yang. Blake relaxed again as the relief washed over her. She had felt no guilt at taking Adam's life. She should be disgusted with herself but she wasn't. If she was completely honest with herself, she was just happy he couldn't hurt Yang anymore.
Blake was brought out of her thoughts when Yang tried, and failed, to quietly slip into the room. Her normally wild mane was pulled into a loose ponytail and she had changed into her orange sleeping top and shorts. "How did it go?" she asked as Yang threw herself onto the bed next to her. Yang just groaned into the pillow. "That bad?"
Yang mumbled something into the pillow before looking up at Blake and sighing. "No. i saw him leaving with Qrow, so i went to check on Ruby instead."
Blake reached her hand out and began to gently run her fingers through Yang's hair. Something she was always amazed she was allowed to do, considering Yang barely let Ruby touch her golden locks. Yang sighed in content "How is she after…"
Yang draped her flesh arm over Blake's legs and buried her face in her hip, eyes still closed. "She's okay, worried, but okay."
She sat back on her knees while Blake stretched out her legs into a more comfortable position. The brawler rached over and popped her metallic arm off with a hiss and a wince. It was the only part about her arm that she truly hated. That numb sensation when she detached it and the pressure sensors sent one last jolt up what was left of her arm. It was the same feeling she got when she used to sleep on it too long and the pins and needles set in. The only difference being that the sensation persisted well past where the flash did. Phantom pain was a bitch and a half sometimes. Yang set her prosthetic on the nightstand over Blake's book and laid back down, draping herself half on top of the faunus's legs, wrapping her good arm around Blake's waist and burying her head in the girl's lap. A small smile made its way onto Blake's lips as she resumed her earlier ministrations. "You don't have to take it off. You know I don't mind it."
Yang grumbled something against her thigh. "I know... But it's dangerous until i can get the cannon taken out and I don't want to accidentally put another hole in a wall."
Blake's ears fell flat against her head as she remembered that night. It hadn't been to that long after Haven and they had been sharing a room at an Inn. Yang had fallen asleep with her arm still attached and had a fairly bad nightmare. The normally cheery brawler had woken the whole inn when she started screaming and put half a dozen rounds into the wall of their room. Jaune and Ruby had broken down the door while Blake tried to hold Yang down. It took all three of them to break whatever trance she had been in. The day after, Ruby started to sleep in Yang's bed when she got the chance.
Yang hadn't slept with her prosthetic since.
A part of Blake still felt guilty over seeing Yang distance herself from the arm. It was made worse by the fact that Yang had confided in Blake the continents of her dreams. The fact that Adam had such control over Yang's emotions hurt in a way she wasn't equipped to handle. Her guilt was only eased by her partner in moments like this.
"Hey, Blake." Blake hummed to let Yang know she was listening. "Do you remember back at Argus, the first time Jaune went after Oscar?" she nodded. Yang was silent for a few seconds as she gathered her thoughts. "He said… Oscar said that 'we aren't the bad guys.' and Jaune said 'how can we be sure?'" Blake felt Yang's hold on her tighten just a little. "What if he's right. Blake, I don't feel like we're the good guys anymore."
Blake's hand stilled as the blond said this. "I-I don't think it's that simple." she began to rub small, slow circles into Yang's back. She felt stiff. "I don't think it's ever been that simple."
Yang gave a frustrated growl. "Isn't it? Good guys don't steal airships. They don't knock out communications towers. They don't put entire cities in danger and they don't…" Yang swallowed back the lump in her throat. "They don't kill people who get in their way…"
"Adam was an animal." Blake's hand began to shake as it stilled on Yang's back, her voice a quiet whimper. "He wouldn't have stopped. If we hadn't done something he would have continued to find ways to hunt us, to hurt us. He would have taken every opportunity to make us suffer." Blake's whole body began to shake as she talked. "He would have gone after Ruby, after Weiss, anybody so long as it meant we would pay the price."
"I know." Yang shook her head. "I just… i don't feel like a huntress anymore. I feel like…"
"A criminal." Yang went quite at that, a sour look passing over her features. "I understand Yang, believe me I do. it's frustrating not knowing if what you're doing is the right thing." Blake pushed a lock of hair behind Yang's ear. "This isn't about the White Fang anymore or Cinder. We're involved in something so much larger than us that… I don't think right or wrong is going to cut it anymore."
Yang was silent for a long time. Blake almost thought she had fallen asleep until she finally spoke up. "I'm not like Ruby... I don't know what's right, not like she does. And I'm scared, Blake… but not for me. Because the one thing I do know about is fighting. But I'm scared she's picked a fight she can't win. i don't want to lose my sister like we lost our mom."
Blake honestly didn't know what to say to that. It was frustrating in a way she never had to deal with before. Both her parents were still alive and safe in Menagerie and she never had a sibling to worry about. She had been lucky in a way she never thought about before compared to most of her friends. Blake slid down onto her side and did the only thing she could do. She held on. She wrapped her arms around Yang's neck and pulled her close. For the life of her, Blake just could not find the words she needed.
Oscar stared mutedly out over the darkened landscape of the castle courtyard and the mountains that laid beyond. The long memory clutched tightly against his chest. He didn't know which of Jaune's sisters room's this was and frankly he didn't care. Whoever it belonged to seemed to love tinkering as much as Ruby if the work bench and precision tools were anything to go by. None of that mattered to him though. No, what mattered in that moment was that the fucking cravings were back. Another one of the small annoyances that made him feel like he was a prisoner in his own body.
Hot chocolate mixed with coffee and hazelnut. Gods he felt like a drug addict whenever the craving hit. Apparently it was from… Linus? One of Ozpin's past lives, an inventor who seemed to survive solely on the stuff if his… if Ozpin's memories were to be believed. An echo of a dead man that survived to the modern iteration. Oscar sighed in frustration. It had been happening more and more lately. Moments where he'd catch himself referring to the memories as his or reminiscing about events that he knew for a fact that he never experienced.
Less than a week ago, before the madness started at Argus, he was talking with Ruby and listening to the girl drone on and on about her weapon. Suddenly… Suddenly he wasn't listening to Ruby. Ruby had transformed into a young blue haired girl he had never seen before but their smiles, gods they haunted him, Ruby's smile had reminded him of a woman he had never met before in his life. Oscar had excused himself and practically sprinted to the bathroom. For the next hour he had clutched onto the toilet as panic flooded his veins and memories of the blue haired girl flooded his mind. Her childhood, her life, her love… her death. He had wretched into the porcelain sink until nothing was left as the memory of her being violently ripped apart by a grimm replayed in his head. Qrow had found him a few hours later, weeping in a pathetic ball in Jaune's sister's bathroom. He knew who the girl was, he knew her and he loved her. Her name was Coral and she had been his… been Ozpin's wife… and Oscar had to witness her death over and over and over again.
Before Ozpin had abandoned him, whenever new or really powerful memories would hit, the old wizard had been there to guide, block out or explain the memories to Oscar. But now that he was hiding away in the back of Oscar's mind it was like living in a nightmare. No context, no explanation, no help at all. These memories were like ticking time bombs just waiting to go off at any time and he felt like he was losing his goddamn mind! These memories weren't his, they were Ozpin's!
The worst… the worst memories were the deaths…
He had… Ozpin had seen so much death. Had caused so much death. Each one having so many conflicting emotions tied to them that Oscar just didn't have the capacity to process. How was he supposed to look Ruby or Yang in the eyes when he remembered the day Qrow had walked into Ozpin's office with a tattered blood stained white cape wrapped around a broken spear? When he remembered handing their mother the mission that led to her death?
He was just a kid, a farm boy from Mistral! He had barely left the farm before a couple of months ago. Now he was stuck in a castle owned by a man who he was certain hated him all because he ticked some stupid arbitrary cosmic box and had a wizard stuck in his head, It was insane! He was insane! This whole scenario was insane! Oscar clutched at his head as a wave of anger and nausea passed through him. He wanted to cry, to scream until his throat was raw! With a shout he turned on his heel and threw the damn cane as hard as he could. He watched in satisfaction as the weapon slammed into the wall with a loud sharp crack. Oscar slid down the wall as he watched gears spill out of the circular housing at the base and shaft extend out sharply as the weapon malfunctioned.
Oscar pulled his knees up to his chest as he took deep breaths to try and calm down. He wished he was still at the farm. Sure, getting up at dawn, feeding the horses and cattle, shoveling hay and manure wasn't the most glamorous or exciting life, but at least it was safe. Now? Now he didn't know what the word really meant anymore. It was all happening so fast, too fast. He barely had a few months of what could loosely be called training and in that time he had nearly been killed by a behemoth of man with a grudge against the man living in his head, killed a few grimm, nearly died in a train crash, nearly died to weird soul sucking grimm not even a day later, barely survived crashing a plane that was swatted out of the air by a giant robot and not even a few hours ago was nearly attacked by someone he considered a friend! All in the time span of less than a few weeks! It was madness! He was just a kid, not a trained huntsman!
As Oscar sat there, his heart beat slowly returning to it's normal pace, he stared at the puddle of parts around the old weapon. A pit forming in his stomach the longer his eyes lingered on the gold gears strewn about the floor. He didn't like seeing it in such a condition. Or… maybe… Linus didn't like seeing his creation lying in pieces on the dusty floor. With a sigh, he stood and collected the fragmented weapon before setting on the workbench. He stared down at it with a frown. He'd had the cane for months but this was really the first time he'd gotten a good look at it. The question was how to fix it? He didn't know the first thing about it. He could go and ask Ruby for help. There was no doubt in his mind that she would jump at the chance to get her greasy claws on the weapon. But… it was late. And he really didn't want to go bothering her.
Oscar frowned as he contemplated his next move. He should probably try and fix it somehow. Reseat the gears that had fallen out. Maybe start with taking off the faceplate to see what kind of damage he had done to the old weapon. A good start but how did he do that exactly? Running his fingers over the circular face plate he stopped when he found the small circles embedded on the outside. Right, it was screwed in, he probably should have realized that. But the screws were strange, not like the basic phillips or flathead he was used to, they were hexagonal in shape so that meant… allen keys. Oscar brought his hand up and rubbed the tiredness out his eyes. He should really stop questioning it by now. The gaps in his knowledge of the world seemed to fill in as needed.
After a brief search of the desk he sat at Oscar found a set of allen keys sitting neatly in a drawer to his left. He began the process of removing the faceplate of the weapon with surprising ease. Like he had done it a thousand times. He hated that fact. He hated the fact that his hands seemed to move on autopilot as he set the screws aside into a tray he had found. Gingerly removing the faceplate and staring at the mechanisms that lay beneath. It looked like the inside of a watch. Small gears and wound springs packed tightly together in a brass housing. There were several gears missing. He realized, with a heavy sigh, that he was going to have to disassemble the whole weapon to reseat the gears properly. Now he just needed to remember how to do that...
Sifting through Ozpin's memories was always an… interesting experience. It was like rifling through a filing cabinet, a filing cabinet that was ten miles long and was somehow simultaneously covered in spiders, iced over and set on fire. Not a pleasant experience to say the least. But he trudged on until he found Linus's memories. All in all, those memories weren't the worst he'd come across. Mostly spent tinkering and bickering with a man named Wedge, Ozpin's name the life before. It was incredibly similar to himself. Linus wasn't a fighter, in fact, Linus was somewhat of a pacifist. Perfectly fine making weapons for Hunters but preferring not to pick them up himself. Maybe that was why his life was filled with less bloodshed than some of the other lives he had come across.
Oscar began to breath heavily as another wave of nausea hit him. He clutched shakily to the table to steady himself. This was his fate wasn't it? Just another set of memories for some future Oz to look back on and use like a tool. No different from the set of pliers he held in his hands. He realized with a start that his body had been acting on auto pilot as he sifted through Linus's memories. Oscar took deep slow breaths to try and steady his racing heart beat and when he finally did calm down he almost threw the pliers in disgust. He knew that Oz was still hiding. He could always tell when Oz took over. It was like… watching someone else play a video game. Watching a character on a screen zig where he would have zagged. It was maddening sometimes.
He stood from the workbench and swiped at his eyes. He could barely stand to look at the half disassembled weapon lying there. He could just finish it tomorrow or maybe the day after. Right now he was done with anything even remotely relating to the old man. Oscar trudged to the mattress and collapsed into it, not even bothering to make it beforehand he just grabbed the sheet and pulled it over himself and curled into a ball closing his eyes. He had to admit, a small part of him wished that when he woke up all he had to worry about was feeding the horses.
A sweet lie… but he clung to it nonetheless.
Ten years ago
Nine year old Jaune Arc sat outside his father's study with his legs drawn close to his small body as he listened to his father and grandfather argue over his training. He watched through the crack in the door as the two towering blond men snarled at each other like wolves. It was late in the evening, a hellish red glow illuminating the hallway from a window on the far side of the hall. He didn't understand why they were fighting. It had been a month since his grandfather had handed him a training sword and began instructing him in ways of the Arc swordsman.
He… he knew he wasn't good. He was slow and he tripped over his own feet most days. Sometimes he dropped the sword entirely and flinched away from his grandfather's mock blows. He could barely hold the wooden shield he was given to practice with. But he was getting better. He could feel it. Grandpa always said that greatness wasn't thrust upon anyone. It was something that was earned through perseverance and hard work. Sure, he didn't have the talent his father showed at his age, but Grandpa told him that Vale wasn't built in a day. He was willing to learn, willing to put in the effort to become great, to become the knight who protected the innocent. Just like his dad, just like his grandfather.
But today was different than the previous weeks of training. His father had watched them like a hawk all day. Then at the end when he had finished his strengthening exercise and sword drills his father had walked over, yanked the training sword from his hands and began berating his grandfather and told him that he would never be a huntsman. They had been arguing ever since.
"Why?!" his grandfather, Harold, snarled at his father, slamming his hands down on the large mahogany desk. "Why can't you see what i see, Alex? Why can't you see that Jaune has the potential for greatness?"
Alex scoffed. "Potential? He can barely hold a sword! You've been training him for a month now, and he has shown little improvement."
"Just because he doesn't have the raw talent you showed at his age does not mean that he can't do this!" Harold snapped. "And it's only been a month! What do you expect of him? To be able to take down an ursa? He's nine, how can you expect him to improve if you won't give him the time he needs to grow?"
Alex barked a laugh. "He doesn't need to grow! He's fine just the way he is! His talents lie elsewhere. He doesn't need to be waving a sword around and galavanting off to try and slay monsters!"
A look of fury crossed his grandfather's face. "It's his dream, Alex, he wants this! He wants to be a huntsman, to bring honor to the Arc name. Just like us, like his ancestors, who are you to stand in his way?"
"I'm his father!" Alex roared as he stood. "Is it such a bad thing that i want more for my son than a life of violence and bloodshed? Is it so wrong for me to want my son safe and happy and not to risk his life so needlessly? He's a talented musician, a wonderful artist and a kind soul. Why must he learn to fight to uphold the family name? Why can he not do so through other, less dangerous means?"
"It's his dream, his legacy." Harold's tone was pleading, his arms outstretched as if trying to physically convey the meaning of his words. "How can you just stand in the way of that? I raised you better than this!"
"Just as I'm trying to raise my son better than this!" Alex strode past the desk to confront Jaune's grandfather. "Better than me! Better than you! Better than all of us! It's not his dream father, it's yours." Alex said as he jammed his finger into Harold's chest. "It's a dream born of those lies you fill his head with. Just as his legacy is one born of death! Of blood and ash! Why must this be Jaune's legacy, as well?"
"You've seen the way he watches his sisters like a hawk when they play together, the way he makes sure they are safe even if it means he gets hurt to ensure that." Harold crossed his arms and stared down his son. "He has an innate desire to help those around him, to protect them. Jaune has all the hallmarks of a great huntsman, a hero! Just as so many that have come before him."
Alex sat down behind his desk and steepled his fingers. "And he can help people. As a doctor or a teacher or anything, so long as it's safe. I will not allow this tradition of savagery to continue." his blue eyes hardened into cold chips of ice. "I've made my decision, father, and if you want to continue to be a part of this family then you will respect it."
The air in the study grew tense and thick as Harold tensed, narrowing his eyes at his son. "You wouldn't," he challenged.
"I will do anything if it means protecting my family." Alex stared unflinchingly at the elder Arc. "even if it means protecting them from you."
Time stood still as the two men faced each other down for what felt like hours. Finally, Harold turned and headed to the door. As his eyes landed on Jaune he looked away, unable to meet the gaze of the small child bundled together on the floor of the hall. With a heavy sigh he closed the door behind him and knelt in front of Jaune. "I'm sorry, little knight. I tried… i'm so sorry."
"I just wanted to help people."
Harold's heart broke for his grandson as his small words reached the elders ears. He gathered the little child up in his arms and Jaune wrapped his small arms around the older Arc's neck in a tight squeeze. "I know…" he soothed, running his hand through Jaune's hair. "I know… come now, I can smell your grandmother's cookies from here. Let's go see how many we can snag before she chases us out, hmm?" and with that, he began a slow march to the kitchen through the quiet castle with Jaune still clutched tightly to his neck.
Jaune groaned as he woke the next morning. He wasn't hungover but his mouth was dry and he could still taste the ash on his tongue. Not the most pleasant feeling in the world but he'd live. Slowly he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Feeling his back crack and pop as he moved. It was strange, waking up in his grandparents old room but he supposed that he'd have to get used to it. On Top of that his back was stiff in all the wrong places. Strangely enough, for the first time in months it wasn't sore. Not like it usually was after sleeping on the ground or the thin, well used springs of an inn or a lodge. The mattress was old, sure, but it was like sleeping on a cloud or a marshmallow, too soft, he realized bitterly.
He sat there for a few minutes, glaring reproachfully at the sun peaking over the distant mountain tops. Normally by now he'd be up and breaking down camp, making coffee or breakfast with Ren trying to rouse Nora and Ruby. a routine developed over the long months of their trek. Jaune dropped his head into his hand and started to rub the sand from his eyes. Briefly he wondered what he would be doing about now the last time he was in his family's ancestral home. Sleeping was the first thing that came to mind. Either that or getting jumped by his youngest sisters. He smiled as he remembered how Joan, Jade and Aqua would break into his room and jump on him until he woke up. After that little Violet would wander in, bleary eyed and dragging her stuffed knight behind her then he'd carry her down to the kitchens for breakfast. He hadn't seen his sisters in three years now. At least they were safe back home with his father. The man may be an ass in Jaune's book but he knew how to protect the family. If Saphs' letters were anything to go bye that's exactly what he was doing.
If he was being honest, Jaune was surprised he hadn't dragged Saph, Terra, Adrian and the rest of the family here already. Not that he thought his father could drag Jewel away from her little beach side townhouse in Vacuo, but gods know he'd still try.
Finally he stood and grabbed his jeans before throwing them on. He frowned as he looked down at them. They were worn and patched from walking across a continent. In hindsight maybe he should have brought more than one pair of jeans with him. He knew he had a few extra pairs somewhere in his old room and was glad it was only a few yards away. He supposed if he was desperate enough he could snag some clothing from his dad's wardrobe. Unfortunately his grandfather's old clothes wouldn't fit. The man had been pushing seven feet after all, though his shirts seemed to fit just fine if a bit long in the arms.
He paused after he threw on his hoodie and his hands hovered over his armor before falling limply to his sides. Jaune… didn't really have a reason to put it on. For the first time he really wasn't in any danger and didn't have plans on training until the afternoon. Still, not having it on made him feel exposed... like a nerve. Crocea Mors just sat on it's weapon rack like it used to, almost as if he'd never taken it. Idly he wondered why he was the only one who wore armor in the first place. Maybe it was because he didn't know what aura was until he got to Beacon. Not having trained to have your soul protect you at all times like the rest of his friends. Come to think of it, barely any of the hunters he met on the road wore armor and the ones that did wore light flexible chainmail at best. Not heavy plate like he did. But then again most of the hunters in his family also wore heavy plate. Maybe it was just an Arc thing. Well, he had time to think about it later. Right now, he needed coffee.
As Jaune hit the bottom of the stairs he looked up when he heard a door closing. Yang awkwardly stared back at him from the door to Saphron's room. She looked like she just rolled out of bed, her normally wild hair pulled back into a ponytail. He waved and she hesitantly waved back. "Morning."
"Morning…"
Yang stood, fidgeting with the doorknob. Yeah, it was going to be one of those days, Jaune could feel it in his bones. "I was going to go grab the supplies out of the bus and make some coffee… I could uh, use some help, maybe?"
Yang nodded and walked behind Jaune as they made the trek to the kitchen. Thankfully his grandparents had thought ahead and placed it just on the other side of the stables where he'd parked the bus. He scowled as he took in the sight of the supplies. Jaune had assumed Qrow would know how much food to buy or at the very least the vendors would know when they saw the crest. It was enough to get them bye for maybe six weeks if he rationed right. He sighed, he'd probably need to make a supply run soon. The Winter season always hit early up here and they'd be snowed in for months if the blizzards hit as bad as they usually did.
It didn't take long for the two of them to carry the supplies into the kitchen. Just like the rest of the castle it was a strange mix of modern and ancient. Stainless steel kitchen appliances stood right alongside old cast iron cookware and there was even a large iron cauldron inside a massive brick fireplace with ancient looking pots and pans hanging above it with a set of pokers and hooks on a rack next to it. Granite countertops, oak cabinets set against rough hewn walls and high arched ceiling and long slab of polished wood serving as a table along one wall.
As they were finishing up grabbing the supplies Yang stopped just before grabbing the last box out of the bus. She gave a frustrated growl before turning to Jaune. "Look, Jaune about last night-"
"It's fine." Jaune cut her off. "It…" he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's fine, really."
"No, it's not." Yang crossed her arms over chest. "I shouldn't have gotten in your face like that. I just… you know how i am. I don't think sometimes."
"I'm over it Yang, just let it go, ok?" he tried to give her a reassuring smile but it came out more like a grimace. If Jaune was being honest with himself, no, he wasn't over it. All she had really done was defend Oscar and that was something so fundamentally Yang he really couldn't blame her for it. That didn't stop him from being angry with her. If anything she should be the one angry with him still. But here she was, trying to apologize anyway.
Yang stepped forward and opened her mouth to say something but all that came out was a yelp when her foot caught on something on the ground and sent her sprawling. Jaune couldn't help but the laughter that erupted from his stomach as he watched her flail around on the ground like Ruby used to when she'd trip after using her semblance back at Beacon. They may look nothing alike but there were times where you couldn't deny that they were sisters through and through.
"Hey Yang." Jaune bent down still giggling at his fellow blond's plight. "Did you have a nice… trip?"
Silence, dead silence was all that was heard as Yang just stared wide eyed at Jaune. "Did… did you just pun at me?"
"What, a man can't be punny when he wants to be?"
Yang rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Are you making pun of me?"
"Nope, just thought i'd have some pun with it while i can."
"Keep this up and you're in for some real punishment."
"If it's with you, I'm sure it'll end with a Yang"
"It'll start with a Yang, that's for sure."
"As long as i don't get a Blake eye from it."
"Plenty of snow out there. I'm sure i could find you a Weiss pack after."
"I can't think of a Ruby pun..."
"Awe, you're no pun."
Jaune held out his hand and Yang grabbed it before being pulled to her feet, grinning like mad. "That was terrible."
"No, you're just bad at puns." Yang turned to the mass of something she tripped over. It was covered in a thick green cloth tarp. "What is this thing anyway?"
Jaune shrugged. "In this place Yang, it could be literally anything."
Yang rolled her eyes and yanked the tarp back and gave a low whistle. "Oh score!" underneath the tarp was an old army green motorcycle covered in a layer of thick dust. "Look at this thing! It's a freaking antique." Jaune watched amused as Yang ran her hand over the old bike before she bent down to get a closer look at the engine. "Looks like an old flathead. They used to ride these babies during the war. I've always wanted one but you just can't find them anymore." she glanced up at Jaune. "Think it still runs?"
Jaune shrugged. "Maybe, I doubt it though."
Yang threw her leg over the bike and grinned at Jaune as she leaned over the handlebars. "How do i look?"
"Like something I would paint on the side of a bullhead."
She flipped off Jaune before stomping her foot down on the clutch. It didn't even budge and Yang swore. "Well she's seized, that's for damn sure."
"She?"
"All motorcycles are 'shes' Jaune, come on."
Jaune leaned against one of the support beams holding the stable up. "Think you can fix it?"
Yang hummed in thought as she leaned forward on the handlebars. "Probably. I built Bumblebee after all. I'd have to take her apart though. These old combustion engines ran off fire dust so she's probably just gummed up. You don't mind?"
Jaune shrugged. "It's not like i'm gonna ride it." he frowned as his scroll rang and he pulled it out to see Ruby's face on the display.
No sooner had he put it up to his ear he had to yank it away as a scream of "JAUNE YOUR HOUSE IS TRYING TO EAT US!" came through the receiver.
Yang snickered when she heard and Jaune rolled his eyes. "My house is not trying to eat you Ruby. what's going on?"
"We're lost and we can't find you or Yang!"
Jaune rolled his eyes as he heard Weiss yell "give me that!" There was a brief struggle on the other end of the line before Weiss' voice came through. "Jaune?"
"Yeah?"
"We're not lost. We've just… mistraced our steps and could use some assistance."
"So you're lost?" Jaune could feel the glare through the scroll as he said this. "It's a big house Weiss. Is there something around that could help me out?"
There was silence for a few seconds. "There's a large painting of a blond man with a beard and a sword."
Jaune wanted to laugh. "I'm not sure you realize how little that narrows it down."
"... He's riding a horse?" well that did narrow it down, unfortunately it wasn't enough to help him even in the slightest. "Hang on." some more scuffling. "There's a metal door here with some bars on it?"
"Open it and tell me what you see."
Jaune had to yank the scroll away from his ear again as a squee that broke the sound barrier came through the receiver "THERE ARE SO MANY WEAPONS!"
"Aaaand Ruby found the armory, perfect." Jaune couldn't help but smile as Ruby and Nora's high pitched squeals came through the scroll again. "I think I know where you are."
"Please hurry…"
Qrow walked into the Kitchen just as his niece and the kid walked out. He waved at them as they passed, vaguely considering asking them where they were going. He didn't, obviously, he was more concerned with finding that disgusting black liquid the kids were fond of known as coffee. Qrow wondered how long it had been since he'd had coffee that wasn't spiked with the cheapest Valean Whiskey he could stuff into his flask.
He couldn't remember.
Ok, not a great sign, but he was a huntsman! He'd faced down some of the worse grimm Salem's sick twisted mind could dream up. Going sober couldn't be that much more difficult than facing down a horde of angry Lancers. Besides, the hangover he had now wasn't the worst one he'd ever had. Instead of the normal angry Kong playing basketball with his skull he just felt… kinda light headed.
After taking a moment to have a laugh at the ridiculousness that was the kitchen, Qrow found himself at the stove standing in front of an old percolator. Filter in, grounds poured, water boiling, coffee making. Just like on a mission. He supposed he could have used the fancy coffee machine in the corner but if his semblance taught Qrow anything, the simpler the better, when it came to anything more complex than door handle… and even those sometimes gave him pause. After a few minutes of scrounging he found a plain black mug and poured himself a cup, he popped the top off his broken flask on reflex and poured a generous few thumbs in as well. Qrow had the cup halfway to his lips before his brain caught up with the rest of him.
He frowned down at the mug like it had just insulted his mother. Ok, maybe not his mother. Like it had insulted Summer. Yeah, that worked. He chalked it up to muscle memory before pouring the spiked coffee down a nearby sink. He poured the contents of the flask out as well, just to be sure. Right, time to try again.
This time, he managed to get a full cup of coffee to his lips and reveled in the familiar bitter taste of his drink. Or at least he tried to. Something was off about the drink in his hands. It just tasted worse than he remembered. Like something... was... missing...
Well, shit...
This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Qrow glared at the mug of coffee in his hand as Maria hobbled into the room behind him. "Keep making a face like that and it'll freeze that way." the old reaper prodded him in the side like he was an unruly animal until he moved to make room for her. "Though for you that might be an improvement." Maria said as she began pouring herself a cup of the black liquid.
"Are all old women this crotchety in the morning?" Qrow grumbled as he sat down on one of the chairs by the table.
The answer he received came in the form of Maria's cane being thrown at his head before glowing purple and returning to its' master. "Depends, are all drunks this surly in the morning?"
"Only when we're sober…" he mumbled as he rubbed his forehead.
Maria looked at him, one shutter raised higher than the other. Qrow was a bit surprised at how expressive they could be… or maybe they were just broken. He really hoped they were broken just to spite the old witch. "And how long is that going to last? I assume your drink is as loaded as your head is empty."
Qrow glared. "Check the flask lady, empty." he turned it over to emphasize the point. "And it's going to stay that way."
Maria scoffed as she moved about the kitchen like she owned it. Grabbing pans, bowls, a wooden spoon before beginning to search through the pantry and fridge. Grabbing as many ingredients as her arms could carry. "Is it now? Doesn't smell that way to me. You smell like a Vacuan whorehouse after last call."
Qrow sniffed at his collar and winced. "I'll sniff out the showers later. Besides, the kid really needed a drink after last night and i… guess I needed to tie one on myself before…" he glared at his coffee again, "this."
"And how long do you expect 'this' to last?" Maria asked as she mixed flour and milk into a bowl.
Qrow scowled into his mug as he took a long drink. "Hopefully for good, if I have anything to say about it."
The kitchen was Quiet for a time. The only noise being the steady beat of metal on metal as Maria mixed something and the flickering of fire on the stovetop. "Orange Juice and vinegar." Qrow looked up at the old reaper when she finally spoke. "Or milk and Honey. Aura can help with many things, unfortunately withdrawal isn't one of them." she turned and regarded him for a moment before turning back to her cooking. "And somewhere quiet wouldn't hurt."
Qrow took a slow sip from his coffee before setting it down on the table with a grimace and slouching forward onto knees with his head hanging low. He figured something like that was coming but it never seemed… real. Something that was talked about in meetings somewhere but wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. "Does it really help…" he asked.
"No."
A/N: you know, normally i try and respond to every review that gets posted for my stories… but that was before almost 50 of you reviewed and 300+ followed my story. That's new, so new in fact that i panicked and had the realization of 'awe shit i have to write a chapter two…' and then it was 'AWE SHIT I HAVE TO WRITE A CHAPTER TWO!' so yeah… no pressure on that. Just a bunch of rewriting and cutting entire scenes and moving them to a different chapter. So i'll just give general feedback to some comments. I feel like I should point out that i'm neither agreeing or disagreeing, simply giving my own thoughts.
A bit on Jaune's anger. Some might say that it's realistic and other might say it doesn't make sense in some cases and they'd be right. But the beautiful thing about anger is that it doesn't need to make sense. And 9 out of 10 times that's the case. We as humans often blow things out of proportions and make the wrong assumptions based solely on that anger. Jaune's angry so he's assuming the worst of Ozpin by default. It might not be the case but that's what he's assuming.
On Ozpin… i find immortals always boil down into a few different tropes and not much else. It's honestly fairly hard to write immortals because you only see them in the context they're presented. You're not there for the majority of their existence. A good recent example of this is 'invincible.' go watch it. It's great and you'll see what i mean. Ozpin isn't inherently an evil character, he's technically a good one. But good and evil by immortal standards is a bag of cats in and of itself.
RWBY is such an interesting show to write for. At least for me. I don't really watch a lot of anime or read a lot of manga. Most of my base for things is in western fantasy and scifi. Lord of the rings, warhammer, lovecraft, dungeons and dragons ect. I'm actually running two games right now. So i'm used to writing from those points of view. Using Oz as an example, i'm writing him closer to how i'd write a neutral good or a lawful natural litch because that's what he is to me. A litch minus the phylactery. Overly sarcastic productions did a good video on this, highly suggested.
I'm honestly not trying to make grand statements about anything by the way. I just like to write about whatever dumb thing my dumb brain thinks is interesting so… yeah. And as last time, feel free to PM me or anything like that. I'm on a few RWBY discords now so look for the suspicious chicken if you wanna say hi.
Anyway, I want to thank all of those who read and generally liked my writing. I'll try and get the next chapter out… sooner… ish...