Progression
The package is heavy in Qrow's hands. The metal itself is lightweight; even through layers of black fabric, Qrow can see hints of golden armour glinting as he carries this bundle through the busy, frenetic halls of the hospital. Its durability is impressive, considering how much he had managed to recover atop the crumbling remains of Beacon Tower.
To withstand the magic of the Fall Maiden, it must have been something special- just as its wearer had once been.
He gulps as he arrives at the aforementioned ward, immediately leaning on the wall, contenting himself to wait. There is no point in going ahead on his own, for he has no relationship with the children he is visiting that day; at most, they shall recognize him as Ruby and Yang's uncle, but beyond that, he doubts they shall have any kind of trust in him.
It's probably better that way, too. His fingers tighten around the bundle, wincing as the edges of metal dig into his palms. The pain is sobering, however- the perfect reminder that he has let someone else die before their time.
He is two gulps in from his flask, relishing in the momentary breath of fresh air automatically refilling his lungs with each swallow of whiskey, when he hears familiar footsteps click down the hall. "You really are always drinking," Glynda murmurs.
Qrow pulls the flask away from his lips, capping it and tucking it back into his inner pocket. The woman standing before him looks, on the surface, to be every bit of calm he has come to expect from her after twenty years of fighting by her side. However, as his crimson eyes fall upon flat, soot-stained blonde locks escaping her normally-immaculate bun, her boots stained with mud and Grimm ash, her blouse yellowed from smoke after fighting off the constant fires consuming the town after the assault just a few days earlier, his heart sinks. Even Glynda, the most proper, reliable person in their team, is falling apart at the seams.
At least her stern expression never fades. "You managed to find all the pieces?" she says crisply, readjusting circular glasses upon the bridge of her nose.
"Every last one," he replies wearily. "Whatever's left, at least. C'mon. I don't wanna draw this out."
Her face darkens slightly. "Don't talk like it's a chore- it was my student," she says hotly, her irritation clearly fighting to break free from her vice-like control.
He does not react, his eyes merely falling deadpan upon her fatigue, her annoyance- her heartbreak. His heart goes out to Glynda. She loves her students more than most would realize- he knows just how much it hurt for her to agree with putting the burden of becoming a Maiden onto young Pyrrha Nikos.
"If it wasn't her," he replies evenly, "it would've been my nieces. You know that."
I know how much it hurts.
Immediately, Glynda's expression softens, brows furrowing, eyes falling to the floor. "…you're correct. I… I apologize-"
"Nah, it's fine," he says with a sigh, finally pushing off the wall. "Let's just get this done."
She searches his face, then sighs as she realizes just how detached Qrow is from the situation. He does not fear her judgement; she is quick to understand just why he appears so unaffected by the fact that he currently carries the most precious, frightening burden of all.
He doesn't have any tears left to shed- not right now. Not while the world is still crumbling. He shall cry another day.
At least Ruby is awake now. She is not whole- broken like her sister, albeit in a different way- but she is alive. He knows she shall figure out how to sew herself back together eventually. Being conscious is a start.
Glynda straightens her shoulders, strengthening her resolve. "Agreed. Let's go."
So, the duo begin to march with purpose towards the correct hospital room. It is easy enough to find; Ren is not exactly a common name on Sanus, so they are soon standing in front of the correct door, looking through the window to see a line of cubicles formed by curtains, built for those who need just a bit of rest. "He's in here after being overworked?" Qrow asks quietly.
"His Semblance mutes emotions," she explains numbly. "We've been getting him to mass-mute the emotions of crowds while setting up safe zones around Vale. No one else can nullify the negativity this chaos is causing, so he's been busy."
"The best and the worst kind of Semblance to have right now, huh," he replies, voice dry and hoarse.
"Miss Valkyrie and Mr. Arc haven't left his side, apparently," Glynda replies, voice barely above a whisper. "I should've ensured they were taking breaks, but-"
Without a word, he balances the bundle in one hand and places the other on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "They're looking up to you," he reminds her.
She nods, lifting her chin. "Of course." And with that, she opens the door and led the way, guiding Qrow forward.
The moment he actually sees the three teenagers huddled on the tiny hospital cot, however, he begins to doubt himself. "Glynda, should I really be here?" he murmurs, his eyes roving over the battered and bruised girl curled up next to the unconscious occupant of this cubicle, moving all the way to the blond boy hunched over in the bedside chair. Nora Valkyrie and Jaune Arc stare up at Glynda with at least a modicum of warmth, of recognition; however, as their eyes fall upon Qrow, distrust immediately crinkles their nose, furrows appearing between their brows. Qrow sighs, then adds to his colleague, "This isn't my place."
Glynda takes the parcel from his hands, her actions painful in their precision, in their tenderness. Placing it upon the end of Lie Ren's bed, she explains, "We found this. It belongs to you now." As she speaks, she approaches Jaune, brushing his matted hair back before laying her hand on his shoulder. "Know that I- we- are so, so sorry for your loss... I wish we could convey to you just how much we regret not being there in time."
Instantly, the children's faces twist in alarm and dread, turning to stare at the mysterious bundle laying at the foot of Ren's bed. Qrow feels his heart leap up into his chest as he watches Nora's already-pale skill grow stark white, the gears in her head clearly providing her with the worst-case scenario- with the truth. He recognizes that look. He has worn it far too many times in the past- has seen it worn, time and time again, on the faces of the people he loves.
It isn't fair, to be so young and to be going through this. It is never easy to be left behind.
He tucks his hands into his pockets, sighing, "We found it in the… in the wreckage after the Fall. When Ruby found out about this, she begged us to hand it off to you. We thought there may be family who'd want it, but the kiddo wouldn't stop, so here we are."
Glynda adds wearily, "You're her team. You deserve it."
Immediately, the blond reaches over to grab the bundle; Qrow's hand shoots out on instinct, closing around his wrist, pulling him away. Calmly, he explains why they should not open it here- how Ren's Semblance will just run out again if he can sense, even in his unconscious, exhausted state, that he needs to protect his teammates. If they are going to open it, they need to open it elsewhere, then calm down before they come back to him.
Jaune is the first to speak. "I'll open it outside," he says, hugging the package to his chest. His face twists in horror as the metal shifts, clinking underneath the fabric; even in the dim lights of the hospital, they can all see the golden shine peeking through the black cloth.
He knows what it is- the remains of their teammate's armour, the only things left behind after her body was turned to ash.
Qrow does not stay to watch the rest of the exchange. His job is done; with that, he turns on his heel and walks outside. He refuses to watch the people his nieces love crumble.
He does not leave yet, however, merely stationing himself around the corner. Just as expected, Glynda appears in a few moments- they walk silently together, heading into the fire escape. He walks to the window, leaning his elbows against the windowsill, looking out at the ravaged, crumbling city beyond; the sky is painted grey from clouds and smoke, obscuring what used to be a breathtaking metropolis.
"They shouldn't be going through this," Glynda whispers behind him. He can hear her taking a seat on the steps, can hear the ragged breaths and muted hiccups that escape her lips as she fights to tamp down on her emotions.
"You're right," he says quietly, looking up into the distance. He cannot see Beacon. It is probably for the better. "But they are."
We have to keep going. We need to find Oz. We know where Salem is going to strike next- it's only logical. We have to be ready.
He does not voice these thoughts as she struggles to compose herself, however. He understands, and he is happy to provide her what she needs: the presence, the companionship, of someone else who is sick of watching children like seventeen-year-old, bright-eyed, sweet little Pyrrha Nikos die for a war which they, as her guardians and protectors, should have ended long, long ago.