written in the stars
The streets are raced through without hesitation. Vale has nothing left for them, Qrow realizes quickly; the closer they get to Clover's destination, wherever that truly is, the more he realizes that the Tar has infected more of the once-peaceful city than anyone has realized. The further they go, the sidewalk becomes more and more processed, more and more blackened and smoothed out like a canvas of nightshade, waiting to be restructured; viscous Grimm pools left by their assaults only add more destruction- or deletion, if they are being honest- to the surroundings with each step.
Qrow's stomach turns as he realizes that he is responsible for adding to this destruction of Vale, for as they move forward, more demonic Grimm appear without hesitation. A bear-like Ursa almost guts Qrow, if it is not for Clover's warning- more Creeps and another silhouette of what Clover calls Salem appears out of nowhere, aiming to hunt him down. It's all horrifying, the white masks of bone dissolving into the nothing with each strike of the Harbinger, but the high of victory never reaches Qrow's heart.
Their city is crumbling. There is no joy to be had here.
A quick look at a passing CCTS terminal tells tales of an 'effort constructed by the City Council to investigate the cause of this disturbance', an article full of such drivel that Qrow almost collapses in his bitter, silent laughter; Clover has to urge him away before he can write an acidic response in the comments and paint an even bigger target on his back. The anger which Qrow feels roiling beneath his veins is real, however; the rage and injustice of it all cannot be contained, for their entire world has been turned inside out without remorse in a way that no pretty words can ever alleviate.
Finally, the duo find themselves at the foot of the highway going up to Beacon. The road itself appears relatively unscathed, but Qrow is not looking for safe driving conditions; what he seeks is a ride. What he shall find, he does not know, for if the login count atop all the functioning billboards is to be trusted, the population has massively decreased even over the course of the past hour. Will there even be any vehicles left to take?
Clover is strangely confident. It is only once he is within the parking garage at the base of the cliff that he realizes who Clover is searching for. The realization makes his head spin, but he does not have the words to speak it to life even if his voice did still function.
He finds their target quickly, and every bone in his body aches as he looks upon the yellow and black vehicle. Silently, he pulls out his Scroll and sends a message to the owner of the sleek motorcycle sitting out in the open, ready for the taking, the holo-Dust parking locks having shut down with the interruption of power to the building it is housed by. However, Blake Belladonna does not respond. C'mon, kiddo, he thinks, staring at the screen as if to make her response arrive faster. You've gotta be okay.
It is Clover who interrupts. "If you're looking for Blake…"
Shuddering, Qrow looks up, scanning the vicinity carefully. It takes but a moment, but boots sticking out from behind a nearby alley are indication enough.
"Let's see if she's able to join us," Clover murmurs. "I… I know you wouldn't want her to be alone. Not with who she was to your niece."
Don't say 'was', Qrow thinks as he grimaces, clenching his fists tightly around the grip of the Harbinger.
And yet, as he finds a half-processed body around the corner identifiable only thanks to its tall, thigh-high heeled leather boots, he cannot even be angry. He is just so, so tired of feeling empty.
Kneeling down beside it, he presses a hand down against where her shoulder should have been. We'll take you with us, kiddo, he says silently, squeezing cold, unfeeling black material. Before Clover can say a word, he stands, lifts up the Harbinger, and stabs it straight into the core of processed, smooth obsidian. Blake's boots shudder momentarily, then slump. The world lights up, the engravings on the blade even more so, as Clover murmurs to the data being downloaded into the blade, "Don't worry. Welcome. We've got you. We've always got you. No- no, Yang's not here. Sorry kid, but we… we still don't know where she is, no. We haven't heard from her for months. We're taking her bike, though- don't worry about it. We won't leave any piece of her behind if we can help it."
The blade glows brighter and brighter, but the shape itself does not change; instead, it is Qrow himself who feels different once the world settles back down, the dark alleyway no longer illuminated by the Harbinger's glow. He feels lighter, quicker. Readier to run the distance.
Next stop: Beacon. The shining research facility, normally so warm and welcoming in its beautiful, perfectly-sculpted splendor, is tattered and ruined by flame and dark shadows which infect every surface. "Beacon's under siege," Clover murmurs as Qrow glances up to their destination. "We're lucky your apartment's on the outskirts, I guess. I wonder if the noodle shop will be open?"
Qrow rolls his eyes, but his smile feels more natural than it has all evening as he heads back to Yang's motorcycle. You kept it in good repair after our firecracker disappeared three months ago, huh? he longs to say to Blake. The young woman had clearly taken care of Qrow's niece's bike, for it is lovingly polished and the gas tank is full, the sound of the engine roaring to life just as clean and pristine as it had been back when Yang was around to obsessively maintain it.
"Maybe her disappearance was related to all of this," Clover thinks aloud. "Either way, we don't have much time."
He traces a finger against the clock face. I just want them back, he thinks. I just want my little girls back.
His nieces have been gone for months now- Yang, for three, Ruby for five.
He wants answers.
Qrow settles into the bike's seat. It is a little too small for his tall, lanky body, but it shall do; after ensuring that the Harbinger's handle is linked firmly to his belt, he revs the engine and pulls it out onto the street, heading up the cliffs towards Beacon.
"Thanks for the lift, Qrow," Clover calls over the din of the engine. "Drive safe. We've just gotta drop by your place, and then we'll be good to get out of town."
Qrow's lips curve into a frown. They are indeed going to his apartment. After that, however, Clover's going to have to accept a change in plans.