Chapter 36: Sins of the Fathers.
We didn't start the fire.
Statistically, we're unlikely to be the ones to put it out either.
"The second I let you two out of my sight! THE SEC-"
"YOU CAME BA-ACK!"
They had a plan. At least, Blake was pretty sure they did. After all, she and Darius had spent the entire trip back to Beacon, along with several brief detours, animatedly discussing something. Potential questions the team would likely ask them, plausible activities for a pair of late teens to spend a full night and the better part of the day on with nary a peep to the rest of the team. Something… else. A great deal of something else.
All of that, however, was knocked out of her head, along with the air inside her lungs, when a whirling torpedo of red petals slammed into her at a speed that only technically qualified as 'subsonic', arms wrapping around her midriff as whatever else Ruby had to say swiftly devolved into incoherent babbling. Even as she turned to Darius for help, who was in the middle of closing the door so their reunion wasn't broadcast to the entire dorm wing, all he could manage was a sympathetic shrug.
In an absence of any feasible escape avenues, all she could really do in response was to return the gesture and embrace her leader by the shoulders, bit awkward as it was with her newest acquisition, the book from the Order's library she was so graciously allowed to keep, still clutched in her hand.
"...Hey, Ruby."
"Seriously?" With Team RWBY's leader still pouring her heart out in a language probably only her own sister could comprehend, said sister picked up the slack for her, eyeing her as she leaned against the table on the right side of the room, arms crossed. "You bail on us so that Darius-freakin'-Silva of all people has to go running after ya 'cause apparently he's been holding out on us, big time, you both just vanish off the face of Remnant for the entire night and come back half a day later than he promised and all you have to say is 'hey, Ruby'?!"
Despite the bluster, it was clear Yang was simply venting pent-up anxiety. Before Blake even thought of replying, her partner immediately switched her focus to Darius who'd come up slightly behind her.
"And you! You wrote you'd be back by morning! It's half past six now! Where'd that punctuality go, you freakin' genius?!"
"I didn't arbitrarily decide to just party the night away with Blake, despite what you might be thinking," he replied without missing a beat, his expression now as nonchalant as it ever was in his verbal bouts with Yang. "Our scrolls died halfway through the night, which is why I texted early. But Blake needed more time, so we took more time. Good to see you, too, by the way."
One would think that everything that had transpired overnight would make something so mundane as a spat with a teammate seem downright trivial by comparison. One would only be partially correct. As the two gradually closed distance to the academy compound and Blake's thoughts naturally returned to consider in greater proportion the situation that awaited her back home (what scandalous notion!), she probably wouldn't have been able to keep a handle on the ever growing nervous energy inside her as they traversed the final stretch of the campus if it weren't for Darius - very discreetly - taking a hold of her hand, only letting go moments ago as they approached the door. So, with the proverbial ball quite firmly in her court, so helpfully served up by the Atlesian, she spoke up with the kind of nervousness that just couldn't be faked.
Well… Darius probably could, if right now is anything to go by.
"I… didn't think I'd be expected back. I'm really sorry, everyone… for everything."
That definitely put a damper on what fire and fury remained in Yang, but by the same token seemed to revitalize Ruby almost immediately. Disentangling from Blake, though still holding onto her wrists, she was all but bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Of course we did! Can't spell 'RWBY' without the B… I think."
"Definitely can't," the older sister chimed in shortly before stepping closer and sweeping Blake up in a bear hug. "And it's not like we've been partners this entire semester or anything. If you were gone I'd have to pair up with that edgelord instead."
"Ah, yes, because Blake is just a bundle of cheer," a chuckle echoed from behind them. "At best you'd be swapping one out for another."
"Can it, Silva. You could've asked to borrow someone's scroll for a moment and told us that way, dumbass."
Blake couldn't be certain, what with her back being turned on him, but she could all but visualize the absolute most predatory smirk etch its way into Darius' features as his reply came:
"Of course, Mother. I'll be sure to do just that next time I take Blake out for a night on the town."
"YOU BETTER NOT-"
"Would it be too much to ask exactly what you were doing that whole time?"
Even despite all her mental preparations, Blake still couldn't suppress a shiver at the sound of that voice. She had spotted Weiss the moment they entered the dorm - it didn't exactly look like she intended on hiding - standing stock still in front of the window on the far side of the room, but so far she, at the very least, refrained from openly objecting to her presence. When their eyes met, the Faunus noted with some surprise that there was no hatred in them, or even animosity, for that matter.
That wasn't to say that she was out of the woods just yet. Fact of the matter was, the timid, still budding suspicion that shone in them instead could prove just as detrimental if something went awry. The topic of Weiss did come up on their way back, and how she'd be the most likely to bring up the incident that had already made the news. Opening with it straight out of the gate, though? Blake could only hope Darius would be able to adjust their approach in time.
It appeared to be backfiring already, however, with Yang breaking her embrace to instead glare daggers at Weiss for the abhorrent lack of tact, while Ruby, having already slithered her way to her partner's side, chipped in with a thunderous whisper:
"This isn't the best thing to tell someone you want to apologize to, Weiss…"
"I was simply concerned for their safety," she backpedaled slightly. "Apparently Vale's gotten a lot more dangerous lately."
"You were concerned for the safety of two Hunter trainees in full gear?" a challenge from Darius followed as he strode past Blake, taking center stage in their dorm. "Come on, Weiss. I'd like to think that, if nothing else, we can deal with a stray cutpurse."
"How about a White Fang turf war?"
Here it is.
"Weiss, you can't just-"
"I swear if you don't pull your head out of your-"
"Girls."
Darius simply raised his hand slightly, immediately cutting off the two sisters as they immediately piled onto Weiss. He spoke with a weariness of someone who fully anticipated this turn of conversation, yet still was sorely let down by the reality of things. Under any other circumstance, this would be a fascinating insight into the elegant finesse of the way he'd almost flawlessly maintained his guise while hers cracked down the middle in the same timespan.
"There's no need to gang up," he maintained, tiredly rubbing the corner of his eye. "I should've figured this would come up. We couldn't turn a corner in Vale without every fucking panel blaring about this."
Truly, the only bitter note about this was the fact that this kind of weapons-grade gaslighting had to be used on a teammate instead of someone actually deserving of the treatment.
"You can't deny this is just too ridiculous of a-"
"Weiss."
This was a far cry from the chilling hatred seething in his voice as he menaced an entire platoon of armed White Fang members, or from the ragged growls tearing through him when he lost his cool. Fact of the matter was, there was hardly any semblance of an emotional inflection in his words as he kept his tone perfectly level and his words exquisitely picked. None of that prevented the same feeling of bone-rattling dread from creeping into every member of Team RWBY as its biggest member loomed over its most compact by the simple virtue of standing close to her.
"In the interest of not letting all my efforts up to this point go to waste, I'll be nipping this in the bud. Blake has been with me the entire night. I sincerely hope you're not implying what it looks like you are."
Blake couldn't decide for herself what she found more outrageous about this deception: its brazenness, or its effectiveness. Even as the mirage of his oppressive presence faded out of everybody's perception just as quickly as it had manifested, Weiss appeared visibly flustered, even though she was doing an admirable job concealing it.
"I- I didn't-"
"Please let me finish." If a raised hand was enough to give pause to both Ruby and Yang from hounding their obstinate teammate, a single finger sufficed to cut short Weiss' attempt at buying herself some time to rethink her approach as Darius applied the finishing touch. "The reason we were missing was because I thought it would be a good idea to give both you and Blake some breathing room away from one another. To give both of you some time and space to think on how to make this work. Blake, I daresay, has made good use of this time… with some minor assistance from my end. I was hoping the same went for you."
"Maybe you could talk some sense into her, as well," Yang grumbled, pointedly avoiding looking at either side of this conflict. The Atlesian only shook his head for a reply.
"I don't think this is necessary," he turned away again, looking Weiss directly in the eyes. "I'm confident Ruby has done just fine on her own. Right?"
That clinched it. Where hammering down upon the, admittedly and regrettably justified, suspicion born of bias and prejudice served to deepen the already existing cracks of doubt, appealing to the effort Weiss' own partner put into keeping their team from tearing at the seams cut off any attempts at a continued rational argument. With her shoulders slumped, the heiress ran her hand through her ponytail, always set slightly askew, in a calming gesture.
"I believed you to be above petty guilt-trips, Darius," she said with a sullen note in her voice, but there was no bite in that remark. "But… Yes. Frankly, I already made up my mind, but then this just had to happen and throw it all in disarray. I'm… sorry."
"Not to me, Weiss," Darius shook his head, tone immediately softening as he reached out to lightly squeeze his compatriot's shoulder. "In all fairness, I can't blame you for taking notice of this awful timing."
Blake could only marvel at the audacity.
"But there's definitely someone who could actually use your apology."
"You don't have to remind me," Weiss sighed, conveying both exasperation and shameful acceptance in a single breath. "You don't forget something like this."
"I'll be getting out of your way, then," accomplishing just that in one fluid motion, Blake found that their eyes locked for a brief instance, accompanied by Darius nodding almost imperceptibly as he handed over the reins of this conversation to her. She returned the gesture. His work, for the time being, was done.
...Which left her face-to-face with the heiress, both equally hesitant as to who would have to shoulder the burden of taking the first step. As the uncomfortable silence stretched between them, Weiss, it would appear, was just a bit quicker to take the plunge.
"I intended to say my piece first one way or the other," she said quietly, and though she still didn't have it in her to look Blake in the eyes, there seemed to be no falsehood behind her words. "Seems all the more prudent after this embarrassment. I…"
Blake's first sign that this talk wasn't going to go how she, or even Darius, expected, didn't register overtly, but rather came to tug insistently on her subconscious, when Weiss shook her head, seemingly having come to a decision of some sort. When her icy blue eyes speared directly through her, defiant resolve burning within, the depths of how reality deviated from all projections became apparent.
"I'm not sorry," Weiss spoke no louder than before, yet the difference between now and mere seconds ago was night and day. Some remote part of Blake's mind had to wonder if all Atlesians had some innate knack for this quiet intensity, or if she was just unlucky enough to have been stuck with the two who cared so much to cultivate that skill. "At least not for what I said about the White Fang. I still don't think I'm wrong about them based on what I knew then, and certainly not in light of what has been happening around us lately."
It was only by virtue of Darius' hand enclosing around Yang's shoulder with all the power of an industrial press that Weiss' diatribe wasn't cut short and the heiress herself didn't suddenly grow a head shorter. Everyone's reactions were immediately apparent: Yang was just about ready to tear up the dorm and everyone inside it and damn the collateral, but at least had the courtesy to fume quietly thanks to the Atlesian's encouragement, Ruby's expression betrayed a mix of utter disbelief and mounting worry, and even Darius didn't seem to anticipate this turn of events, narrowed eyes studying the back of Weiss' head for any hint of what might be going on inside her head.
As for herself…
It's not like this wasn't the exact same stance, word for word, that Weiss had taken in their argument yesterday. Both were perfectly aware just what that amounted to: stumbling on uneven footing in a vain attempt to defend not even the organisation, but the cause said organisation seemed to have abandoned a good while ago. Yesterday, it wasn't even Weiss' arguments that tipped the scales, but her own conscience being torn amid the stark rift between objective reality and the lingering remnants of her misbegotten loyalty. Today, having witnessed the depths her former comrades-in-arms have willingly sunk to…
If anything, this was shaping up to be a textbook example of how much can change in just one day, something Blake, of course, knew like no other.
"But I'd like to think I was wrong about you."
The mood shifted as things began to click into place. This was no apology, and perhaps expecting one was simply wishful thinking, considering the topic of the conversation and the person in question, but with Weiss this had to be as close as it gets.
"Just answer this one thing: you're not with the White Fang anymore, correct?"
Blake couldn't fully conceal a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. If there was any ambiguity about it over the last semester, tonight had dispelled it without trace for her.
"I'm not, Weiss."
"Why?"
"What do you even care?"
Maybe this would have felt less bad if Weiss responded in her typical fashion of snapping back with some deeply insensitive yet frustratingly on-point remark. But none of that followed.
"That… is a fair question."
This would go completely unnoticed by anyone less acquainted with Weiss, but everyone present in this dorm in Beacon academy, even Blake, had a veritable wealth of accumulated knowledge to draw from. The small, barely audible quaver in Weiss' voice as she held out the pause maybe a fraction of a second longer than she usually did. The small twitch of her lips that she attempted to conceal by tracing a finger over it in a contemplative gesture. All pretty clear indicators that Blake's question stung significantly more than anyone anticipated, however deserved it may have been.
"It should be no surprise by now why I enrolled in Beacon," the heiress continued upon regaining control of her voice, speaking in subdued tones. "I could no longer abide by how things were going at home. In particular, I had to get away from my father."
A twitch ran through Weiss' sword arm, at first hardly noticeable, but with every subsequent jerking motion her left hand clenched tighter and tighter around a nonexistent handle as her pupils narrowed to a fine point.
"I'd like to think there's some deep reason for the petty tyranny he enacts against our family or the company, but I'm pretty sure it boils down to the fact that he's new money. He married into the family, took the Schnee name and the reins of the company with it, but that doesn't make him equal in the eyes of those whose circles he now orbits."
In a display of hitherto unseen vulgarity, Weiss all but spat at the mention
"He knows as much and takes it out on those who can't push back. My sister managed to escape his grasp through the military pipeline, but… that trick didn't work the second time. Meaning I had to think even farther away." She sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to get at is that I'm all too intimately aware that… some things you can't fix while being a part of them. That sometimes you just can't let things stay as they are, and that distance is the first thing that comes to mind. And unless everything I know about you is a complete fabrication, I'm guessing this was your thinking too."
...Well I sure wish I could say my thought process was this sophisticated at the time of deciding, but...
"That about sums it up, Weiss," Blake nodded. "I take it you're not opposed to me staying a while longer, then?"
"That goes without-" cutting herself off mid-phrase, Weiss almost bit down on her tongue, a frown contorting her flawless features. "No… no, I suppose it doesn't. I can't in good conscience object to you being here. I certainly can't let the baggage I brought from my family back there ruin the one I have here. In fact… I hope I get to know you a little better in the future."
The Faunus smiled. In any other circumstance, this would be the part where Blake needled the uptight Atlesian ever so slightly, a reminder to her - maybe, more than even that, a reminder to herself - that this didn't mean they were friends, or ever would be.
And yet for some reason, she felt no such urge right now.
"I'll see if we can figure something out. Maybe over tea?"
"I personally prefer coffee, but-"
"OH THANK GOODNESSYOUMADEUPI-" was all that Blake could make out as coherent words before Weiss was all but launched towards her as Ruby slammed directly into her back, enveloping her in an embrace. It was only thanks to the supernatural reflexes of a Hunter that she narrowly sidestepped the impending collision.
...Moments before a hand wrapped around her waist and hoisted her like some puppet as Yang casually strolled over to the remaining half of the team and swept both Ruby and Weiss with the other arm in a flagrant display of her freakish strength, with the heiress and Blake at the epicentre of the impromptu dogpile. Blake couldn't deny that the sudden closeness felt more than a little awkward, something Weiss clearly related to, but for the first time since her enrolment here she had a distinct feeling that they'd have plenty of time to work that out.
"UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT YOU LUMBERING OAF!"
Oh, Weiss definitely related to the awkwardness.
"Not gonna happen, Princess," Yang deflected, not showing any signs of fatigue, or even effort. "You acted like a human person for once, you get a hug."
"I- oh Light," Blake gasped for breath as Weiss inadvertently drove an elbow squarely into her sternum in an especially ferocious attempt at wriggling out. "I don't think this is good positive reinforcement, Yang."
"The reinforcement hasn't even started yet," came the reply. Yang's attention, however, was focused elsewhere, narrowed eyes burrowing into a point somewhere behind Blake. "Seeing as the hug isn't complete yet."
Oh goodness.
"Now, now there, Yang," Blake didn't need to see Darius to realize he was on the verge of bursting with laughter, so clear was the schadenfreude in his voice. "Whatever happened to the whole 'boys are icky, this guy in particular' attitude? I'm pretty sure just touching Ruby like that is enough to get me arrested in this country."
"Shut your trap and get in here, Silva. Team hugs are non-negotiable."
"Aw, you do care."
Blake heard a single step as Darius' armored boot thumped against the hardwood floor; suddenly, the force pressing her against the rest of her team gave way and all three of them landed squarely on their feet as their fifth member appeared out of nowhere right beside Yang and swept her hind foot that braced the weight of the entire team up to this point. It wasn't meant to actually trip Yang, obviously, but she was definitely looking at a hard landing on her knee if Darius didn't vanish in a puff of smoke once more, the shadowy matter of his Semblance wedging itself firmly between her and Blake as he reemerged just in time to brace his teammate by the shoulder on one side and wrap a hand around Blake's one the other.
"But you should know that hugs feel best when everybody gets to contribute and it's not just you squeezing the life out of them," he chipped in and, in yet another display of unbridled audacity, winked slyly at Blake as he turned away from Yang. She could only chuckle inwardly in response, all of her efforts concentrated on not letting a smidge of color to show on her face.
He wasn't exactly wrong, either. With his sudden intrusion their dogpile transformed into something more of a huddle, something both herself and Weiss, as she derived from the lack of usual protestations, found more agreeable.
Yang, of course, would never admit to her opposite number that anything that came out of his mouth ever resembled a good idea, something she expressed with all of her being even now, writhing and struggling under his iron grasp. Blake was certain, though, that she gave as good as she got if the rippling muscles on her exposed forearm were any indication.
"Freaking wise-ass showoff know-it-all," she grumbled, though nobody in their right mind could think there was any actual ill will behind the shit-talk. "Can't just act like a regular person for even a second."
"What, like you?" Darius laughed out, only tightening his grip on her shoulder, but making doubly sure all the while that not one strand of her luscious golden hair got pinched in between. "You wanted me here, now take your lumps. Or would you rather I pawed at Ruby like this?"
"Go play in traffic."
"Too far, Yang," from the opposite end of the huddle Ruby's stern voice rang out, and the older sister immediately seemed to deflate several sizes from this reprimand. "For someone who almost lost her partner I've yet to hear a word of thanks to the person that brought her back."
"...Right," Yang breathed, now speaking several registers lower. "I kinda lost the plot for a moment there… Thanks for that."
"Come now, Ruby," lightly tapping on Yang's shoulder to let her know things remained just fine between the two of them, Darius, too, piped down to conform to the changing atmosphere in the room as he retorted, beaming at their leader with a warm smile. "It's not fair to single out Yang. Losing Blake would have been a blow to all of us."
"All the more reason to say it out loud, since you would never bring it up yourself," disentangling herself from her sister's arm slung around her shoulders, Ruby strode up to Darius and, with a tiny skip simply to get enough height, wound her arms around his neck, legs dangling in the air.
Blake, for her part, thought the skip looked adorable.
"I'm sorry you had to do my job for me," she told him, her words laced thickly with remorse. Her footing was soon regained, as Darius lowered himself on one knee to be able to converse with Ruby face-to-face. Not that that was happening any time soon, with her embrace only tightening once her feet hit the floor.
"I'm truly thankful to have you with us, Darius. We all owe you."
For almost half a minute there was no reply, a, frankly, monumental length of time when the Atlesian was considered. When he spoke, he was barely louder than Ruby, and one didn't need to be psychic to tell that all his effort went into preventing his voice from quavering. It sounded… familiar.
"I can't accept this debt, Ruby. I didn't do this to contest your position or to curry favor."
But of course it sounded familiar, it occurred to Blake. She heard this exact manner of speaking just earlier today.
This was the voice of a man reckoning with yet another truth about himself he could no longer turn away from.
"I would never be able to live with myself if something terrible were to happen to this team and I hadn't done everything in my power to prevent it."
"Really hoping it doesn't, though."
The two broke off, but one would think that the entire academy building weighed upon Darius' shoulders as he rose to his feet, looking like he was just about ready to slam back into the waiting soil… or floor, in this particular case. Reaching out her hand, Blake discreetly grabbed hold of his elbow both to attract his attention and as a preventive measure. For a brief instant she could see the same haunted look in his eyes, marked sign that reality was slowly slipping from his infirm grasp, but it was gone in the next breath. When Darius turned to face Ruby again, resolution rang in his voice and his every movement was sharp and focused.
"I'm afraid we cannot in good conscience expect that," he shook his head. "We're barely through the first semester and we just narrowly avoided our core team splintering. If there's anything we can extrapolate, it's that the future holds only more tests for us, Ruby. Hopefully lesser tests, but hope is a terrible predictor. And as much as I'd like to be tactful, there's no sugar-coating it: preparing for these kinds of eventualities falls squarely to you."
Clearly, this news did not come as a surprise to Ruby, who only nodded, her features mirroring the same grim resolve, an expression ill-suited for a face this young.
"Then I'll be ready."
"And I'll be with you guys every step of the way."
"You. Had. One. Job!"
Sometimes it paid to think ahead.
Soundproofing his office had proven, time after time, to be one of the smartest decisions Ozpin had ever made.
Whether through the small foyer adjacent to said office or from ground level dozens of meters below them, attempting to eavesdrop upon the truly calamitous dressing-down currently handed out by Qrow would be equally futile. Only the impassive ticking of the immense clock that constituted the room's back wall could be made out, the sound resonating through the very structure of the building with every movement of the second hand.
Within the office itself, however, it was drowned out completely by his colleague's ranting, harsh baritone distorted to downright painful degrees by fury and the machinery grafted into what remained of his vocal cords in equal measure. Few knew this, Ozpin being among them, but the egregious amount of gain and fry that made Qrow's voice so uncomfortably similar to the grinding of an industrial saw against metal was not the result of faulty augmetics, but a deliberate modulation on his end. The cybernetics themselves, if need be, could be - and were - used to imitate other people's voices to an uncanny degree.
Meaning, of course, that the current cacophony, which wouldn't sound out of place as part of the repertoire of an industrial metal band from Atlas, served exclusively for the sake of getting under the listener's skin, something that, if the report currently opened on his scroll beside him was even halfway factual, couldn't have possibly had any effect on the intended recipient except deeply irritating him.
"You were afforded an unprecedented amount of operational freedom! Minimal oversight! Basically a no-questions-asked policy in regards to what you and your fucking cult got up to as long as it got the job done!"
To his credit, as much as could be applied, at least, Darius endured this verbal assault with laudable stoicism, his expression an utterly impenetrable mask which in no way betrayed his feelings on the matter, patiently waiting for the lull that would arrive sooner or later.
"What more would it have taken for you to obey the one fucking rule there was?!" stopping his pacing and turning on a dime to face down the young man, Qrow's eyes, both mechanical and organic, bored into Darius' with hardly ten centimeters of distance between. "Do you even know what I'm talking about, I wonder? I thought that went without saying, but perhaps I had to spell it out for you, you fucking idiot!"
There was no emotional reaction from the Atlesian. Only a sigh that came with his next exhalation signaled that any of this registered.
"I assume you refer to the unfortunate involvement of-"
"NOT INVOLVING THE STUDENTS, THAT'S RIGHT!" the older man roared, and a glass that stood on Ozpin's table seemed to vibrate a little bit in resonance. "So you did know and just didn't give a shit!"
Realizing that thus far attempts to put the fear in Darius were not bearing fruit, Qrow instead retreated to the headmaster's table, leaning back on it and addressing him in a radically quieter, though no less hostile, tone:
"Give me one reason not to boot you out of the academy right now, Silva," he nodded back to the clock wall. "And boot you from this tower while we're at it."
For a few moments Ozpin's eyes locked with Darius as the young man studied him, seeing if there was any reaction meant to follow. The headmaster, however, was content to let him say his piece for the time being… if he had any, that is.
"I have detailed the exact sequence of events and the relevant context that have led me to this decision," he spoke calmly, choosing to completely sidestep the fact that matters of expulsion, for instance, fell strictly under the purview of the headmaster. "Appended is also my assessment of Blake's overall psychological profile and her mental state at the time, which served as the basis for my decision-making. I-"
"I don't give one shit about your armchair psychologist bullshit!" an interruption came almost immediately. "Fixing whatever problems you think there have been in the team wasn't your fucking job! All you had to do-"
"Gentlemen. That is quite enough."
In all honesty, the only reason Ozpin had let this drag on for as long as it did was to see exactly how much abuse Darius was willing to leave unanswered. Seeing the jugular vein in his neck bulge into prominence as it swelled with blackness to contrast the color draining from his face at the first mention of his team was quite telling in and of itself, so that's where he was content to let it go. As the room finally grew still, the student's face and neck returned to their normal colors pending several deep breaths. His features, all the while, remained utterly inscrutable.
"You're quite right, Qrow. Mediating occurring conflicts is, indeed, not part of the mission Darius was assigned," the headmaster spoke, yet Qrow, after so many years of working alongside Ozpin, was in no hurry to interpret his words as a unilateral show of support. Rightly so. "That responsibility falls squarely on the shoulders of Team Ruby and the academy itself, especially in their first, formative year. Who would you rather assume the blame here?"
Without even dignifying him with an answer, the spymaster simply shook his head, pointedly turning away like he no longer had an interest in this conversation, suddenly very closely resembling his namesake.
"I have examined your report, Darius," without missing a beat, Ozpin continued. Qrow would insert himself back into the conversation when it would be pertinent, he was certain. "I… agree with your assessment. This isn't widely known, but Miss Belladonna and I had a conversation shortly before her enrolment, much like the one you and I shared. Among other things, I asked her if she believed her… background could become a source of conflict with her team or the student body at large. I was assured she wouldn't allow that to happen. I..." Professor Ozpin minced his words for a while, concluding the thought with a weary sigh. "I am saddened both for her and for Team Ruby that this didn't turn out to be the case, despite my forewarnings."
"With all my respect, Professor, if that conversation was, indeed, like ours, that means it took place before she ended up on a team with a Schnee and a Silva," Darius retorted, very careful all the while to maintain the appropriate proportion of reverence in his tone. "Surely a repeat assessment was warranted afterwards?"
"You misunderstand, I'm afraid," Ozpin shook his head. "Our conversation took place strictly within the context of internal security, as is my purview. It was up to me to determine whether she posed a danger to the school, but no more. My personal reservations remained just that, even more so once she became a full student. If indeed her team situation was giving her any distress, which, I will admit, would be a given once the teams were formed, the matter of resolution was between the team and her, or, at worst, between her and Professor Peach. If she ever sought her counsel, that's something I would not be privy to, either, unless the Professor believed she posed a risk to herself or the students."
Silence hung in the air for some more time as Darius absorbed the information presented. Much was left unsaid in this little exchange, of course, and both parties were aware of the fact. Limited purview or not, the call to approve the student to enroll, or even the final decision to admit them into the academy, and many other executive functions, were firmly in Ozpin's hands, which made his decision regarding Blake in light of what he claimed a… contentious one. Without ever taking his eyes off his technical superior, the Atlesian slowly nodded.
"Of course, Professor."
"By the same token, of course, it heartens me that the team managed to overcome this crisis, and that your integration into the collective has gone smoothly," with a faint smile, Ozpin extended an olive branch to alleviate the tension in the room.
"As is Her will, Professor," Darius responded in kind, bowing lightly as an equally faint half-grin spread across his face. "I am but its conduit, to the best of my ability."
"Involving yourself so deeply in the team conflict was your Lady's will?"
"To the best of my attempts to interpret it," he nodded as the half-smile grew. "She rarely gives out explicit orders, but it was exactly that which compelled me to make the trip in the first place. 'Travel to Vale and join Beacon', She told me, whereas our mutual arrangement is best described as my personal initiative as a functionary of the Order. More than any impediment in this investigation, Professor, the prospect of the team I am a part of dissolving is by far the greatest threat to my ability to further enact Her will."
Well, then.
I can't say this isn't as clear a declaration as it comes. Although this is, without a doubt, one of the most creative applications of the Idiot Stick I ever have come across, downright commendable.
"And how does the prospect of getting expelled from this academy fit into all this, genius?" Qrow all but spat out, thankfully restraining from actually soiling the pristine carpeting, but making the full extent of his contempt duly known all the same.
Yet another button pushed. Difficult to make the clear distinction if it was the insult to his faith or another threat of expulsion that triggered this, but valuable information nonetheless. A black fissure streaking down the left side of his jaw this time, like withered stone cracking down the middle, invisible to Qrow due to positioning, but on full display for Ozpin. Hard to actually be certain if intentional or simply fortuitous. Without even dignifying the former with a head motion, Darius glared at him for maybe a second before boring once more into the latter. No expectation in his eyes this time. Demand, instead.
Keep your subordinate in check before I do it for you, the look in his eyes read, clear as though written black over white and handed to him in triplicate. No empty bluster, either. Rather, the intent and means to make good on the threat.
Very dangerous, this. Much more so than the steel sickles on his hip.
"Let's not let our emotions get ahead of sound judgement for the time being," Ozpin proposed, reaching for the cup at the head of the table and pouring a fraction of his aura into it, before raising it to his lips and taking a hearty sip of black coffee. Inlaid with veins of Fire Dust infused into the ceramic, all it took to keep the contents warm in perpetuity was a simple act of auric resonance. Downright ingenious, if vain. "The first solution that comes to mind is not always the best one. A salient point is raised, however. Irrespective of the external factors that drove you to make the call, Miss Belladonna has been exposed to a… concerning amount of your Order's internal machinations, nevermind her acting as your direct accomplice in this… grisly incident. The students' wellbeing is Beacon's top priority, so I will be plain with you: will this be a problem for her?"
"Absolutely not, Professor," the reply came immediately. "I have personally ensured that no trace of her involvement leaks to the world at large. Any qualms between her and the Order itself have been settled to the satisfaction of both parties."
Is that so?
"I'll take your word for it. I'd like to think you know better than to outright lie to me, especially on matters such as these," he shrugged. "Which brings us to our final point of contention."
With his hand reaching up to his eyes, Ozpin took off the small, largely decorative spectacles situated on the bridge of his nose, looking at Darius directly.
"Be honest with me. How much of a setback has this been to your investigation?"
He'd expected much of the same, the Atlesian continuing to lay out with a detached, almost robotic honesty, exactly how much progress they stood to lose and was already preparing to calculate just how much time he had left to work with.
Needless to say, a half-smile emerging upon the student's features, as vicious as it was bitter, did not fit neatly into his expectations.
"Whatever do you mean, Professor?"
He frowned.
"I asked you for honesty, Darius. If you've something to say, now is not the time to yank my chain."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he nodded deeply. "Starting from page twenty five of my report and onward, there is a detailed breakdown of the data we have intercepted from the White Fang craft, as well as that of the measures undertaken by us to further extrapolate on that data. We have managed to identify four properties that fulfil the requirements for being potential storage sites of the stolen Dust, that being confirmed ties to the criminal organization that seems to supply our culprits with weapons, vehicles, and even instructors, and simply having the facilities to house the merchandise discreetly. Two of said properties have been reported to experience a substantial increase in unidentified traffic since last quarter. As soon as I am able, I will investigate the properties in person in order to confirm sighting of our suspects."
Much of that indeed overlapped with the contents of the report on Ozpin's scroll, yet the conclusion sounded almost too good to be true… and yet, being mindful of the forces he had willingly invited into play, somehow unsurprising.
"I would ask you that you make this your highest priority, Darius," he said, his words weighed with utmost care to, Light forbid, tell the Atlesian any more than what was intended. "An attempt so brazen may indicate that White Fang has found assistance far beyond some local gang."
Another of those looks, brimming with suspicion. It could probably bore directly through anyone in the student body and half the teachers, but in Ozpin, he found no answers. With nothing to latch onto, bar, of course, the very fact, Darius only nodded.
"I will have confirmation within days, Professor."
"For your own good, you had better not pull any new stunts this time around-"
"Or else what, Sir?"
There was no qualitative change in Darius' tone; he didn't even raise his voice in the question. Yet to deny how the atmosphere in the vast room changed with all the speed of a torn string lashing out into the emptiness would be both delusional and plain impossible. The unsightly black seam parting his face that has all but receded completely by this point shot up his cheekbone and all the way to his brow in lockstep with the movement of his head, like a barely healed wound opening anew, smaller cracks splintering off all across his face; a ghastly sight like few others. Even his eyes, which could hardly be called gentle even in the best of times, now far more closely resembled the old and trite metaphor: windows into the soul, empty panes of glass through which something glared coldly at the world. Something vicious, contemptuous, and utterly inhuman.
"I'd like to preface this by saying that I fully understand the value of a clearly established chain of command," when no immediate retort came from Qrow, so flabbergasted was even that cynic, the Avatar continued, never raising his voice a decibel. "Which is all the more reason for me to remind you exactly how it works in our arrangement. While it is true that I report my findings to you, this does not make me your subordinate - Lady have mercy on the people you actually have power over - nor does it grant you any authority beyond advisory on how the Order conducts its investigations."
Only the rhythmic ticking of the clock behind Ozpin's back dared disturb the dead stillness that hung in the office, as well as the quiet whirring of the mechanical shutters as Qrow's cybernetic eye narrowed in conjunction with his biological one, the dark green metal of the wing-shaped face plate bending in an eerie similarity to a bird of prey narrowing its sights on its imminent victim. One after another, a series of high-pitched clicks began ringing out as well, immediately recognizable to Ozpin as disjointed segments of his comrade's weapon, whose blade was ordinarily stored within a compartment built into his back, sliding and locking in place.
"Choose your words carefully, whelp," he spoke, his voice entirely devoid of any mechanical tampering this time. "Staying in Beacon is the least of your problems now."
"Contriving a reason to boot me from the academy is the only leverage you have on me. It won't be enough," Darius rebuked, either wholly ignorant that Qrow now had his weapon primed and ready, or entirely dismissive of the fact. "And it will certainly not cause the Order to just put their hands up and drop the investigation even if you go through with it. It will, however, absolve it of the numerous obligations I have unilaterally undertaken on its behalf."
Every word that came out of his mouth seemed to tear at reality itself, pieces flaking off like old cloth fraying around the edges. Even the clock directly behind Ozpin seemed to fade into irrelevance, as though there was simply no space left in his mind to process anything but the Atlesian's cutting voice.
"I do apologize if I hadn't made it clear enough from the outset, but this stopped being your private matter the moment you enlisted the Order's help. In Her veiled decree, we will get down to the truth of the matter, and from that point, we'll see if there are any questions left. Questions, like, for instance: why does the headmaster of Beacon academy, a thoroughly private and civilian institution, as well as the ostensible spymaster of said private and civilian institution, show such personal interest in some petty crime?"
His eyes narrowed.
"How exactly we go about answering these questions depends in no small part on the state of this partnership."
"You dare?-"
"Enough!"
Outside of Ozpin's office, on the face of the immense clock overlooking the campus, the hour hand shifted, heralding the arrival of the new hour with a resounding boom, and the situation in the room shifted to be all but unrecognizable. From the perspective of the two men just fractions of a second away from tearing at each other's throats, in the vanishingly small stretch of time between the hour hand shifting position and the clock's intricate machinery striking the bell, Ozpin seemed to just appear halfway between them, with no discernible filler between him sitting at his desk and him standing in the middle of the room, the cane in his hands striking the floor at the exact same time as the bell rang. Both froze in anticipation, one with his hand brought back, where the telescopic handle of his scythe already unfolded from under his forearm to attach to the blade proper, whereas the other seemed stuck halfway between corporeality and living smoke.
"There will be no hostilities in this office or beyond it. It makes little sense to do our enemies' job for them and turn on one another," Ozpin spoke ever calmly, addressing his reprimand to both belligerents. As he turned to face Darius, the roiling mist that comprised most of his body slowed down and solidified until he was once again fully corporeal. "Darius, we're currently in the midst of the most severe Dust shortage in years. Weapons-grade Dust, no less. Surely it's no surprise that the headmaster of a Hunter academy would have a personal stake in resolving this issue?"
"With all due respect, Professor," contrary to his words, one of his eyebrows curved in a downright contemptuous manner, as though merely voicing the question insulted him somehow. "If that were your concern, you'd be asking me to find the Dust, not the perpetrators."
No answer followed.
"This concludes today's proceedings," Ozpin spoke up eventually, his words tasting sour in his mouth. "I only hope you apply the same deductive skills in your continued investigation. And, if you still practice that, pray to your Lady that this is, indeed, just some petty theft."
"I shall pray to Her for guidance," the Atlesian replied coldly, straightening up as he nodded farewell. "So that my every step brings me closer to my purpose. You would never reach out to me for anything less."
He was gone the next moment, as if blown away by some nonexistent air current, a faint trail of smoke writhing through cracks in the doorframe as the only evidence he was here in the first place.
Ozpin turned around, making his way back to the table in lockstep with the measured march of the clock's second hand, and sat down at his desk. Reaching out his hand to grasp his mug, he once more poured his aura into the vessel, only to frown as the liquid on his tongue tasted an entirely different kind of sour. He burned the damn coffee.
"F-f-fucking cultists..." Qrow spat out, the familiar distortion creeping back into his voice, accompanied by a quiet cacophony of mechanical whirring and buzzing as his weapon was disassembled and stowed back into the assorted compartments within his mechanical chassis.
"I'm surprised he managed to get under your skin so much you forgot how to back off properly, old friend," the headmaster mused. "He wasn't even trying to. I could tell."
"By all means, make fun of me. Disregard the fact that he just tried to strong-arm us out of giving him his just desserts with imaginary leverage and you let him," Qrow's mechanical eye narrowed, cog-like iris spinning on its axis as it zoomed in on his figure. "You've invited a Sabyr into your home and put your head in its mouth, Ozpin. It's all but stated that it intends to eat you. Is that the game plan? Throw in the towel, let them deal with her?"
"If that is what it takes."
"Yes, because that makes sense. I don't know what was going through your heads as you kept letting these lunatics get their hands on more and more of Remnant, but you should have reined them in some centuries ago."
Ozpin stared at the glass of water for some time, studying the ripples that disturbed its surface every time Qrow spoke.
"It is inevitable that children inherit the world their fathers left them. I think I knew the moment I encountered the first of their kind that they would eventually have to reckon with the mess their… less conscientious kin left them with."
"Your 'benefactor' ever give you any primers on how to deal with them?"
"I suspect he never saw them coming, Qrow," a rarely genuine smile crossed the headmaster's features. Casting one final glance upon the cup by his side, he drained it to the dregs.
For much like you, my friend, he never quite grasped the truth of this world. Which is really quite bizarre, all things considered.