May Fortune Guide Us

Clover was unsure of what to do as he took in the distress painted clear as day upon Qrow's face. "Um… is everything… alright?"

Qrow simply slammed the door shut after a moment, annoyance and frustration plain as day upon his face, tiny rivulets of water running down his cheeks from where the stormy rains had struck him. The force of his swing was clearly too much, merely sending the door bouncing back wide open, a gust of icy wind roaring through the cave and stirring some of the branches woven in the nest, much Qrow's obvious chagrin. "A set of trees fell onto the walking path up here," he cried, voice hitching. There was no anger there- only distress. "No one can come up anymore."

And I can't escape anymore, Clover thought, his heart plummeting to the floor. A part of him had still been praying for Qrow to give him the opportunity to simply walk out, to report back to King Ironwood exactly what had transpired here, for this had been nothing like the mission for which he had been recruited.

And yet, it seemed like the thought of not being able to traverse the path by foot was even more heartbreaking for Qrow. Can't he just… fly down? "…So? Does that cause any issues?"

"So," Qrow moaned, clearly distraught- He's very drunk now, Clover realized distantly- "my nieces can't even come to visit!"

"…pardon me?"

Qrow glared at the bag of wrapped items he had left beside the armoire when he had first run into Clover. "I even bought them gifts beforehand," he muttered, no longer even remotely threatening; all of his anger had washed away in the rain, the man now focused solely upon the bag of what was presumably gifts. His lower lip curled into what could only be called a pout, brows furrowed, eyelids falling shut only to snap open, over and over again. "My kiddos. The baby and my firecracker," he hiccupped.

Clover's mind went back to the two beds in the small room across from the cave. "You… your nieces stay with you?"

The man glared at him, red eyes scathing at Clover's obvious surprise. "What's wrong with that?"

Nothing. I just didn't think you'd be a man so invested in children, that's all. Rather than saying that, however, he simply sighed and shook his head. "Nothing," he affirmed gently, approaching the shifter with care. "Were they coming to visit?"

"Yeah," Qrow groaned, hanging his head against the doorframe. "We decided I prolly shouldn't visit them for a while, not after what… what happened last time."

Clover gently pried the intoxicated man away from the entrance and shut the door, flinching as the wind slammed it shut. "What happened last time?" he asked, guiding the man to the human-sized bed. "Why can't you go down to visit them?"

The sorrow began to mingle with embarrassment upon his cheeks, and Qrow averted his eyes. "…I dun wanna say."

Helping the man sit down, Clover raised a brow. "Qrow."

"I tried to save time by flying." Clover didn't respond, waiting patiently until at last, Qrow hung his head in his hands. "…someone thought I was a Nevermore," the man mumbled bitterly.

Clover had to fight to swallow back the bark of laughter which wanted to roar out of him. Someone had seen him in bird form and thought he was a creature of Grimm? True, Qrow's avian form was formidable, but there was not a speck of white, red-lined bone to be seen on his form! Nevermores all bore unnaturally white masks of bone, their tainted magical energy flowing through veins upon the surface, glowing red and ominous through the bone. How could anyone mistake the shifter's true, giant figure for that of an avian Grimm?

The very idea was laughable, and also, Clover's heart could not go out more to the man. The insult of it all…

Qrow glumly continued, "Called half the Huntsmen in town to knock down the door. Tai got mad for weeks 'cause Ruby and Yang were so scared-"

"Ruby and Yang?" Clover sank back upon his haunches, thinking back. Those two little girls who lived with their father- the ones who had been so excited to see their uncle, their eyes practically sparkling with joy as they helped their Huntsman father do the laundry- "Wait- your nieces live in that little cottage along the path here?"

Miserably, Qrow nodded. "I haven't seen them for months, it was supposed to be a surprise, their dad was gonna bring them up to spend the week here… Hell, I even got Tai something…"

Clover could no longer hold back his smile. "Is that why your 'hoard' was so… lacking?"

The glare Qrow sent his way was priceless- all pouting and vulnerable, like a child angry at an older sibling for stealing their dessert. "I have a coin purse like anyone else, bastard," Qrow protested. "The kids dragged that thing up here one day and announced that I- I 'needed a treasure chest' so I just let them keep it in there."

There was something painfully sweet and also deeply, unflinchingly pathetic about the way Qrow mournfully slumped over, dripping water across the floor, allowing it to soak into the mattress. Clucking his tongue, Clover sighed and stood up straight, looking over at the man authoritatively. "Okay, Qrow. First thing's first."

"Hm?" Qrow glanced up at him through red-rimmed, bleary eyes.

"Do you usually sleep in bird form or human form?" Brothers above, that is an odd phrase to say.

"…I'm not a bird."

Clover hummed in agreement, walking over to the armoire beside the bed. In the lower drawers, he managed to find a towel, so he promptly handed it over to the older man. "Of course you're not," he muttered wearily. "And what are you, then?"

"I'm a corvid."

It took everything he had to hold his tongue. It's fine- you can do this- you've been to enough evening balls in the royal palace- you can maintain your composure, he cannot be worse than coaxing the Katt family's eldest daughter down the ballroom's curtains- "Of course. You're a great corvid. My apologies, Qrow," Clover replied succinctly. When the elder did not move to dry off his sopping figure, Clover quickly took the towel back and began to dry the man's hair for him. The motions felt far too intimate, and Clover felt nothing if not out-of-place; why he was there, drying off a shifter's hair during his emotional breakdown, Clover's mind had yet to parse.

Thankfully, Qrow did not protest, the man too dizzy in his inebriation to fully take it what Clover was doing. He didn't mind- it made the task easier for him, and Clover did not need any additional hiccups in this situation.

What he did need was some time to think.

"Now, if that's the case, please dry yourself off. I shall bring you some tea. Put on some warm clothes."

"But-"

"But nothing." Clover paused, feeling his face heat up as Ozpin's words flashed back into his mind. Steeling himself against the sheer humiliation of what he was going to say, he finally choked out, "Unless you want this 'handsome knight' to undress you and get you in something-"

Qrow buried his face in his hands, a low whine which Clover assumed was, "Ozpin," barely audible from his muffled mouth. Taking that as an invitation to leave, Clover laid the towel upon Qrow's shoulder, ensured that the door leading outside was closed, and then stepped out into the kitchen.

Whilst the kettle was heating up, Clover was focused on something entirely different. Yanking out the scrying scroll and some charcoal from his pack, he quickly began writing down a message to Harriet, summarizing the truth of his mission. He didn't know if it would actually reach her with the magical barriers upon Qrow's home, but it was worth a shot- with spells written in blood, he had a far higher chance of success, after all. "Mission was false- Valean royal advisor wants help bringing shifter back to work in Vale. Not a monster. All old friends of His Majesty. Wants me to help convince him to return to work."

It took barely a few moments for words to begin appearing below his message as Harriet penned her own message in response. "And? Do you need to leave?"

"How do I convince someone to go back to work?"

He could hear the water beginning to roil within the kettle. He needed answers, now.

Finally, Harriet's loopy, messy scrawl appeared yet again. "Find out why he left and fix the problem." To his horror, she then added, "If he knows our liege, is he a royal?"

Clover frowned. He had no idea about anything, let alone Qrow's past- all he knew was that there was an extremely depressed, sentimental shifter longing to see his nieces in the next room. Clumsily, he wrote just that to Harriet, praying that she would give him advice.

"If he's sweet, then hang around longer. You could learn to lighten up."

This woman just wants to drink on the crown's dime, Clover groaned, not bothering to dignify her words with a response. He couldn't even blame her, not after their month-long, nonstop voyage. If only he could join her…

He packed away the scroll and charcoal and groaned, pressed his forehead into his elbow, feeling the tension peaking. How in the world could he accomplish this?

Find out why he left and fix the problem.

Well, that was not going to happen whilst the elder whimpered glumly in the adjacent room.

Taking in a deep breath, Clover centered himself, straightening up. He was a knight of Atlas. He would do whatever it took to accomplish his mission. He would be able to do it without fail.

One upset shifter couldn't be too hard to convince, could it?

The moment he walked it with a tray of tea, relief struck his heart. Qrow had found the sense to change his clothes and mop the floor- the mundanity of the task struck him. As someone with a connection to King Ironwood, why don't you have servants? Guards?

It was not the night for those questions. Before Qrow could say anything to him, Clover merely held out the tray, offering a cup of soothing tea. "Drink this, then go to bed."

The elder bristled. "Who do you-"

"Look, Qrow. I'm not your enemy-"

"Anymore."

"-and I know this is an odd set of circumstances, but… You're going to need your senses about you if you're going to help me tomorrow."

Qrow frowned, backing away for a moment. A chill ran down Clover's spine as he saw the fingers on one of Qrow's hands extending, elongating, growing darker by the second. "Help you with what?" the man growled.

Wearing his sweetest, most courtly smile, Clover explained, "With clearing away the debris on the walking path. You want your nieces to be able to visit, right? I'll help."

And just like that, talons disappeared, a hand reaching out for the cup of tea, gratitude and gruff wonder in crimson, shining, bloodshot eyes. "You'll really help?"

Clover shrugged. "A knight never goes back on his word- and even if he has to," he added ruefully, "then he at least tries to do the best by the people he is trying to help."

Qrow regarded him for a long, weary moment, eyes blinking lazily as they took in his figure. Finally, the man smiled, years of frustration and bitterness melting off of his features. "You're alright, 'sir knight'," he grinned. "You're alright." And then, the man clambered into his nest the way a toddler might stumble into their crib at night. With a flash of red Aura shining, illuminating the cave for a brief moment in a blood-stained hue, a giant ball of black feathers emerged in the center of the nest, a pointed crest peeking up over the top of tall woven branches.

That was a far better response than what he was expecting, so Clover smiled and nodded in response, for this mission was not going to be an easy one, and he genuinely had no idea how to pull it off- but at the very least, he'd help reunite a lonely man with his family. That was something he could do.