Ngh. Not my finest day in front of the brats.
Qrow pushed firmly down on the wound he received from the scorpion Faunus in Salem's employ. His head swung back against the base of the tree he sat near. The bastard tried to take away his niece, for what reason Qrow wasn't entirely sure. His bet? Her silver eyes. Could Salem want them for the power they held? And what sort of power did they hold that Salem would want them so badly? What good would it do to her?
Not the problem right now. I can't protect her if I can't move my body properly.
Though it was only a scratch, there was something else to it that made his muscles sore. It was difficult for Qrow to stand without wincing in pain. Those kids, whom he had divulged the truths of Ozpin's hidden war before his untimely demise. They were a hundred years too young to take care of his sorry ass. Thankfully muscles grow stronger after every strain put on them.
Best to prepare next time I see Miss Feline Hunter.
Months went by without a letter, text, or call from Silver. Not that he blamed her, but there wasn't a way to do so with communication lines down and him constantly on the move behind those kids. And he doubted any letter would make it through the Schnee manor without interference. Even if it did make it to her, it wouldn't be enough for him. After all, communication is a two-way street. He wanted to hear her singsongy voice to banter with him, to tell him off, to share her worries with him.
Yeah, we'll do things better this time.
What about when they reunite? What would they do then? Grab a drink? Go dancing at a club that she wanted to do last time. He wasn't the greatest dancer, but would he care if he was hammered as fuck? Ah, and then the fucking. Best way to end the night. And start the morning. Pulling her long hair to submit to him; submitting to her whims as she purred; Tracing the lines on her back with his tongue; coming up with new ways to mess with the other.
Crackles of sticks and leaves took him away from the fantasies he played inside his mind. Following the sound, he saw Ruby shake her head while rustling the leaves out of her hair. Qrow let out a soft snort at the teen, "Doing alright over there?"
"I would be if this tree wasn't so full of leaves!"
"Wait 'till Autumn for that."
"Har-har Uncle Qrow." She sat beside him, finding a space between the large tree roots. "How are you feeling?"
"Been better. But you didn't endure a tree attack to come ask me that."
"Well...no. You said you didn't want to tell us any more than you did."
He nodded, "and I meant that." The two gods Ozpin swore by, their fight between each other, and the relics they left behind in the care of the Maidens. All that Pyrrha Nikos knew, they know now.
"D-did…" Ruby sought to find the words that escaped her, contemplating what would be the best words. She wasn't a wordsmith like Weiss was, so her words were more simple, but easily misconstrued - as she later found out. "Did Mom know?"
"Yeah. All four of us in Team STRQ knew. So did Team SLVR."
"Miss Silver's team… the ones who died."
"The very same."
Though none of us know if it's because of Salem or not. We don't even know what happened that day.
A tear threatened Ruby's eye, thinking of Pyrrha who fought to the bitter end with this enormous pressure. Enduring it all alone. Without friends to help ease her.
"How did you do it?" Ruby couldn't think of any solutions on her own to prevent this feeling from taking her away into her own mind, eating her up from the inside. So those who have lived with this new perspective of Remnant must have the answers she sought. Not just for her but for Jaune, Nora, and Ren as well. "Handle all of this, I mean."
Qrow whistled at that, thinking way back to when Ozpin took Raven and him to the Vault. "It wasn't all together, that I can say. How the others - Summer, Tai, Sil, Rah, Lakshmi, Ven. How they found out is beyond me. Only Ozpin knows those answers." How he felt as he emerged from the elevator to see vast corridors echoing with each step taken. "I felt so little, so weak compared to the rest of the world. For the first time since we were children, Raven and I held each other's hands to comfort the other. Twin mentality, I guess. To protect our other half."
His eyebrows furrowed over his next few memories. Each room within the Vault awed and scared him at the same time. One room held a sword stuck within a large boulder, the hilt decorated with crystals and a ribbon wrapped around it. The room across from it adorned a small boat - sounds and smells of the sea permeated from it.
Another, a pair of child-sized white wings spread across the room. Facing them a statue of a woman blossoming from a flower, hands in front, praying. He remembered white rose bushes rustling without wind. Across from this one a mirror hung in a smaller room, close to a closet. It was darker than some of the others. On the mirror, two small mantles held out their metallic hands, holding white hair on one and pine nettles on the other.
"The things we saw that first day," he said as these memories replayed, "no words could ever explain what we felt. Fairy tales that were told to us as kids became scarier as adults. I remember my friend, Ven, saying - and mind you this was coming from a guy who feared no Grimm. He said, 'People fear the unknown, but to now know the unknown… I fear the world much more.'
"Can't say I blamed the guy, he had dreams of becoming a father and husband. To create a new legacy from the one he came from."
Ruby sat in silence listening to her uncle, slowly understanding that the fear affected them all. Yet here he still was, fighting the good fight for the sake of Remnant. He must've found some way to live with it. He didn't bail on the family as his sister had.
"It gave a new and better purpose to my life," he began, "Something better than what I was told to do. I got to choose. And I wanted this life." I wanted Silver, he thought to himself, without any intention of telling his niece that.
Ruby sat silently, carefully listening to the man whom she looked up to, 3rd to her own parents. She could see his eyebrows furrow each time he thought something troubling, creating wrinkles on his forehead. But she could also see each small smirk, his expression becoming gentler. The version of Qrow in her most beloved memories - the bickering between Taiyang and Qrow as they took Ruby to Signal Academy for her first day; Training for long hours how to use her weapon; Her semblance emerging from said training. He was a harsh teacher, but an understanding one. Ruby sometimes thought it was due to his bias towards her. Not that she minded that too much.
"I don't regret it," he said, "I don't regret this life. But I regret not doing more...not doing better." Otherwise, Summer would still be alive, and Silver didn't have to leave.
"Then, what's the best way for us to continue on?"
He huffed with a sense of glee, "Keep moving forward. Remember your favorite things in this world and fight for them." Before the dark-haired young huntress could ask more, Qrow gave her a hearty shove, "Get some sleep. No use in thinking about everything in one night. It's a lot to take in and that's ok. Day by day, kid."
She smiled back at him, "Night by night."
XXX
A solid heaviness fell upon the restless warrior as if it was trying to suffocate his entire being. Solid yet incomplete with an unknown force pulling the strings within the nervous system. It dragged him further and further down a tunneled abyss. Deeper down the rabbit hole he went, falling to that place where he wished never to return to.
XXX
A little boy ran through a wasteland of nothing but rock and dirt. Nothing but a slim stick in his hands waving it through the wind. To others around him, the stick would be nothing more than just trash left behind by the tree that grew it. Yet to the boy it was beyond what they saw. It was a plane, a cane, and even a drumstick to create music with.
But one day, far from the camp he came from - it was his sword. A means to defend himself against a ferocious beast that howled and growled at him. It barred its sharp teeth and stalked its darkened body toward the young boy. The stick shook uncontrollably within just as much as its wielder. The child's footing was in an awkward stance, but he didn't yet know how to do it properly. His elders hadn't trained him, not yet.
The creature before him snapped yet only lunged a little bit before it pulled back to observe the human's reaction. The child remembered seeing this type of creature before - he believed it was referred to as an Ursa. This one in particular was smaller than the others he'd seen before so it had to be a Minor. Yet it was still bigger than this human child. Fear gave the beast its power and the boy was to become its meal. Each fearful thought prodded the creature toward the boy until all the was left to do was eat him whole.
XXX
A teenage boy swung a sword-shaped piece of dead tree. With precise timing and honing reflexes, he struck the target meant to be his opponent. It stood proud and tall, and lifeless. Another boring day in the training ring, as others around him - besides one - held their metal swords. They fought to protect each other from the enemies like the one he encountered as a child. That was how he internalized it at least. Yet the instructor who gave him a good welt on his old scar was not one on the boy's 'protect' list.
His stance was too loose, his footwork sloppy and the swing lacked power. A girl the same age was just as reprimanded. She groaned yet kept her cool as the insistent verbal and physical blows came their way. By itself, the strikes were not strong enough to cause damage to either child. Yet they were so consistent it neared to the point of slitting the girl's skin, specifically her foot - where the instructor told her to fix its placement more times than he wanted.
Blood dripped from foot to floor, the summer heat coagulating the liquid in fast time. The girl's moments weakened each minute she stood until she couldn't move any longer. The brother caught her before her face met the sanguine floor. Setting her down gently, the teen finally understood what had happened to his sister, the only person of blood he had in this world. Like the creature of his past, he barred his teeth in front of his opponent. In a fit of rage with a wooden sword still in hand, he rose it against his teacher.
Yet like all naughty children, he was punished for his transgressions against his elders. Though in his heart the man deserved the bloodied nose for his sister's collapse. Here he would learn respect in its humblest way - humiliation. Yet here in this tribe, humiliation meant decimating one's ego completely. I will hold onto my pride, the boy promised himself. Unable to speak with a rag tied in his mouth, hands bound behind his back against the oak tree. A fresh stain on his left leg kept it warm, wet, and vile. He thanked any god out there that it wasn't on his head this time.
An adult of high standing in the tribe sauntered to the young boy who only glared daggers. With hands on the hips, the quartermaster sneered at the young boy. The two never cared for the other. One ate his supplies in large amounts and stole when it suited him. The other made weird off-handed comments about his sister. Their blood would boil anytime their eyes met, despising each atom that stuck to their body.
The quartermaster bent forward in arrogance taking a deep breath of the lordly air. It made the teen's skin crawl in repulsion to share the same air as him. The adult took several more deep breaths before speaking a word. Words formed sentences; Sentences into paragraphs; Paragraphs into a monologue. Each new addition fueling the fury within the teenager, already riddled with puberty-induced emotions. The monologue ended with -
Mother. Killer.
Everything stirred within the young lad when that reached his ears. His stomach churning, jaw clenched onto the rag that held his voice within. Tears welled up in his eyes; his breathing quickened. His body lunged forward yet jolted back from the restraints that held him. The quartermaster howled a grand laugh heard by others who turned their heads in surprise. Restraints didn't bother him as he tried, again and again, to lunge at the man, who kept laughing in turn. The teenage boy didn't feel humiliated as the adults thought he would. Only rage. Pure rage that prayed deep in his heart that he felt the same pain as he felt every single day he had lived.
Swoosh
The laughing halted, gasps entered and blood dripped down the quartermaster's shoulder. An arrow protruded out of his back like the bone spine of a Beowolf. A horrible accident. Several years later, the quartermaster would meet an unfortunate accidental end.
XXX
Nearing what they deemed to be adulthood, the brother and sister huddled together behind a brush. Others of their camp circled around the main road heading towards a small village within the continent they roamed. Hushed voices were not exchanged - only the sounds of particular birds within the area. Whee whee hooo. Incoming carriage.
Their first raid with the adults and they had to let it go perfectly. Word had it this carriage was more full of supplies than the other fruitless ones throughout the year. The tribe was in need of it, and the twins would help do their share. They had no choice otherwise. What could they do in the wilderness on their own?
Each wore a designated mask to hide their identity, yet each could tell who was who in their ranks. A scout called another line of bird calls, this time identifying the carriage's homeland - Vacuo. The group now knew to expect Vacuan styles of fighting protectors - possibly huntsmen.
The carriage neared their location and onto their trap to halt the horse carrying it. The group jumped on the carriage, searching for any possible threats. They only found several workers, one driving the carriage and the other as a simple companion. Their greatest hull was left unguarded and nothing could sully their plans now. The twins helped load the goods from the carriage to the cart they procured several months before. More pack mules for extra luggage.
However, the tribesmen were cursed with a bad luck charm. One of the scouts managed to get the tie to his mask undone in front of the merchants. The original plan dictated the merchants to not be harmed, just the items taken. Without the twins' knowledge, the adults in charge made the decision to silence the merchants forever and burned their carriage far away from the road.
A week later the area was investigated by high-paying Huntsmen who were searching for the missing merchants and the goods they carried. Little did the tribesmen know it was supposed to make it to the bigger city. And the merchants' presence was noticeably missed. They asked around in smaller villages and slowly pointed to the tribe that passed by around the time of the disappearance. Branwen, each village pointed.
The Huntsmen trailed the tribe down to their latest camp. In a panic, the tribe came to the best conclusion and decision they could. Pin it on the 'wayward' man who volunteered for the job. He who lead the charge that day. Confessed and imprisoned for two life sentences. For the sake of his 'family'.
Something was made clear that day for the tribe and for the elders. Their enemies were not just the creatures that slept in the woods beyond their makeshift borders every night. One day they will have to properly combat and perfectly avoid the trained warriors of the Kingdoms. Luckily they had two perfect contestants to infiltrate this lifestyle. Yet it had to be far away from here, where no one would know the name of the clan that bred them.
XXX
In between the twins, a beacon of light stood above only dim and gray. They stared and reached for this fading light until it repulsed and retaliated. From one stand, two elongated arms reached and struck the two in the center of their chests. It twisted and twirled bringing them together, sewing these two pieces of fabric by the gray thread. Ironed and pressed the fabric was stretched and grown into a blanket for the coming of new life he heard in the distance.
The newborn was brought into his fuzzy embrace and was enveloped in it. A state of calm was found, but bits of sand fell from the hands to realize the newborn was nothing but sand. It was so warm before, why was it gone now? More sand fell from his arms until it formed into a sandy beach. Forcibly pushed by the other half of him, he submerged under the water; magically scraping the sand out until he was nothing but clean.
He couldn't take it. Pushing the other half away, he was able to unbind, unpress, undo the thread that tied them together. Ripping stitches from the wound. In fear of being bound once more, he ran as far as he could from the beach into the woods. Black swans followed by flying past him, pushing him deeper into the forest as they wished. He wanted to go left, they chose right. He wanted to go back, they decided on forward. And they decided on a cliff for him to fall through.
Miraculously caught by moss that softened his fall, but was met with a glass house with no doors. He ran from one side to the other, shouldering the glass walls to break through. Yet they didn't budge. Not even a single dent.
Beyond his own walls and in a terrarium of her own, a silver-haired woman with exposed feline ears sat on a bed of succulents. Her hair reached the corners of her room, arms crossed body balled up. She heard the noise the man was making but refused to look at him. In shame? Fear?
Unfolding her arms gaze still away, she pointed to the sky - the only opening that they could ever leave from. He gazed up at his room's opening and followed the line of sight of birds falling from his sky. Like curtains closing, the man watched as piles of crows and ravens grew in his vision until everything turned black.
