May Fortune Guide Us

"You'll… help?"

Clover nodded, handing a cup of coffee to the elder. Qrow simply yawned, pulling out the chair opposite to Clover and slumping into it, his hair mussed and out of order. Clover longed to put it in place for no other reason than to clean it up; the elder's face still had imprints it in from twigs within his nest, after all, the lines looking like scars imprinted into his cheeks. He looked like an utter disaster.

Yet, Clover could not blame him for his ragged appearance after the amount of liquor he had consumed the night before. He sighed, pulling out his own chair and taking a seat, gesturing to the entrance of Qrow's home. "I, uh… I took a walk this morning," he began clumsily. "I wanted to take a look at the place properly."

"What, your little one-man tour wasn't enough?"

Clover winced. "Look, I've already apologized for trespassing-"

"I know," Qrow groaned, placing his forehead against the dining table. "I just…"

Clover hummed sympathetically. "It's been a rough few days," he assented. "I get it."

"Yeah." Qrow winced as the clouds parted outside, shining a beam of sunlight through his window. "Blasted sunlight."

Looking out of the window, Clover continued, "So, do you want to know what I found?"

"Something tells me you're going to say it anyways, so go ahead," Qrow rasped dryly, keeping his forehead on the table.

Gesturing to the outer mountainside, Clover began recounting what he had seen that morning. The entire mountainside looked terrifying- covered in brambles and creeping vines, it truly looked like the den of a monster. "Granted, it was much better this morning as compared to last night," Clover laughed. "Sunlight certainly helps the dark atmosphere of it all a bit, but realistically, if you want to be considered friendly, you might want to make it more approachable-"

"Shut up." There was an edge to his voice, but not of anger- more of frustration, of bitterness.

Clover leaned forward, watching the shifter carefully. "Why do you seclude yourself up here?" he asked. "I don't know if you remember yesterday-" Based on the elder's blush, the answer was not much, "-but you mentioned your luck has something to do with it. What's going on?"

Qrow's eyes were wary, guarded as always amidst his obvious headache and nausea. Yet, as Clover waited in silence, keeping his smile open and inviting, his posture welcoming as he leaned across the table, ready to listen attentively, Qrow finally let out a weary sigh, relenting. "Look. I've tried making this place nicer, okay?" Qrow muttered, embarrassment tinging his words with bitter, sour defeat. "The brambles continued to grow while I was away on missions. I tried hiring some local folk to help out, to make it a little nicer, but they always grow terrified when they see my bird form." Snorting, he said wryly, "You're the first one who hasn't fainted or threatened to murder me on sight, y'know."

A part of Clover wanted to retort, for of course he wouldn't have had such a pathetic reaction- he had originally been sent there to slay a dragon, so what harm could a giant bird do?- but he held it in, biting his tongue to allow Qrow to continue on.

"Landslides and such are pretty common here, so I try not to let the kids come to see me except for a few times a year." He waved vaguely to his surroundings, as if that explained his current plight. "And, this place is far enough away from everything else on Patch that my misfortune won't do any harm to anyone, especially not the kiddos."

Clover leaned back. "What is this 'misfortune' of which you speak?"

Qrow rolled his eyes, clearly exhausted. "You flirt with a fae one time as a teenager, and suddenly you're cursed forever," he muttered.

Clover paused, staring back at Qrow blankly. "You… were cursed… by a fae?"

"Accursed faeries and their godforsaken courts."

Silently, Clover made a note to demand for higher compensation at the end of this mission. Who would he have to harass for it? The Atlesian Treasury? Would he have to hunt down the Valean Royal Advisor? The gold promised to his name was not enough to deal with someone cursed by the fae-

But then again, the amount of defeat in Qrow's face was far too pathetic to leave alone. Holding back his questions, he simply murmured, "That would be terrible for anyone to suffer. Is that why you left the academy? Ozpin mentioned an incident yesterday."

Qrow shook his head, clearly not willing to share. Clover didn't push him, merely gawping as Qrow added, "It was the incident, but also, alcohol is a great way to dull a fae's magic- but it's awful going to teach when you're hungover."

Massaging his temple, Clover stared blankly at Qrow. "The second part's not a good excuse to quit."

"Tell me more, sir knight."

A loud grumble echoed through the room, and Qrow's cheeks flushed red as he clutched his stomach. Clover chuckled, standing. "You're probably still feeling sick, so I can make something. We should get started on dinner, too. Do you mind if I use your ingredients?"

"Sure, make yourself at home, you damn burglar," Qrow muttered, lacking all animosity- the man was simply too tired to care.

"I'd prefer 'sir burglar', and considering how I haven't stolen anything-"

"Yet," Qrow interrupted mildly as Clover pulled out ingredients for a stew from the ice box.

"-I'd say I'm more of a… surprise guest."

"'Guest' implies I want you here," Qrow sneered.

Releasing a long, heavy sigh, Clover finally looked at Qrow from where he stood by the counter. "To be honest with you," he stated plainly, "I was told there was a shifter harassing people on this island. The king believed that was my mission- but he also asked me because of a very special reason."

"Jimmy thinks you're attractive, Oz said. I get it."

"No!" Clover cried, feeling his skin heat up fully, mortified. He had forcefully pushed that little detail out of his mind. "Gods, no." He sighed, looking out the window; from where he stood, he could see the mess which he had refrained thus far from telling Qrow about. "I was sent here because they said they needed someone with good luck."

Qrow froze. "…what?"

"I have good luck." Turning back to the countertop, he began slicing up the meat he had found. "My mother paints as a hobby in the court. She received a client while she was pregnant with me, and… well, you of all people should be able to guess what the payment was, who the client was."

"She got a fae to bless you?"

It was an old story, not one which he particularly cared about; he had long accepted the fact that his eccentric mother had played a dangerous game, taking faefolk as clientele. Either way, that bargain had worked out in his favour; he had experienced good luck his entire life, but had never felt like things were handed to him on a platter. He enjoyed working hard. He also enjoyed receiving a helping hand from fate.

The look in Qrow's eyes was anything but positive, however. The anger and fury which lit up crimson irises chilled Clover to the bone, causing him to reflexively grip tighter onto the handle of the knife as Qrow's fingers began to twitch, morph, clawed talons growing and shrinking back into bone in his rage. "You… lucky bastard," he spat at last.

Clover sighed, forcing himself to relax, to get back to cooking. "I'm not saying this to be cruel," he said, voice even and quiet. "I wish I knew how to help you, but I don't. Even if there was a way to break a fae's spell, I'm a knight, not a mage. What I am saying, however, is that with my luck, maybe if I help you clean this place up, we'll be able to prevent it all from falling apart after."

Qrow did not respond, and Clover contented himself to cutting up the meat and searching for seasonings. Only once he had located a small cupboard of spices did Qrow finally murmur, "You'd… actually stay and help? You were serious?"

"For the nth time, I will. I will always uphold my mission, and that is aiding you, so of course."

The shifter stood, wobbly on his feet as he stumbled over to Clover. "It's not that much work, there's no point-"

"Look outside."

Frowning, Qrow followed Clover's gaze, a strangled cry of anger ripping through his throat like an ungodly squawk when he saw the wreckage out of the window. The pathway down the mountainside had not been merely blocked by toppled trees on the back end of the path; a veritable landslide had shaken the roots of that section of the forest, completely destroying the walking path after the flooding caused by the rainfall. No one would be able to get through unless that path was cleared.

He relayed the extent of the damages he had explored that morning as gently as possible, but nothing could change the fact that Qrow's face fell further with every word, the man retreating into himself as he realized what Clover was trying to tell him. There was far more work to be done if he wanted to be able to visit his nieces again. With a clumsy smile, Clover asked, "Would you be able to contact their father and let them know? It might be a good idea to let them know sooner rather than later."

"What do you know?" Qrow said bitterly, glaring at the coffee mug in his hands. "You're only here because Oz is too lazy to hire someone else to replace me."

Sighing, Clover explained, "I saw your nieces on the way here. They were singing about how they were going to get to see you. Is Yang the one who call's you 'Qwow' or is that-?"

"That's Ruby," Qrow breathed, expression twisted, confused.

Clover grinned, pushing the potatoes which needed to be peeled towards Qrow. "Well then, we should make some food and eat up, then get started on clearing up the mess, right? We wouldn't want to leave them waiting for too long- not when they're so excited to see you again."

Qrow stared at his profile for a long, long time while Clover got back to work marinating the meat. Clover waited for the elder to scream, to transform and fling him off the mountainside with his massive claws.

However, his hands instead eventually picked up a knife and a potato, peeling slowly by Clover's side. Clover smiled, focusing on his own tasks, allowing Qrow to slowly work as he accepted that Clover's presence truly was there to stay.