second part to the symbolon soulmate au, from qrow's perspective.
Her name had been printed across his chest for as long as he could remember. She had always been with him, in delicate, curling cursive in black ink across his heart.
Raven had teased him relentlessly about it when they were children. It wasn't until they were older that he realized why. Schnee was a name that bore weight. It meant something. Power, wealth, status.
And he- he was an orphan from a nameless village.
He tried to stifle that hope he felt, that stubborn heat within him that grew worse when he touched her name.
It wasn't until he entered Beacon and learned more about the Schnees, what they were doing and what their company allowed, that he truly forced himself to ignore the name.
Her name was easily covered, but not so easily forgotten. There would be a faint warmth at times and he would be overwhelmed with emotions. Fear was most common, like a sharpness that went as quickly as it came. Then hope, ebbing and curling around his chest like a vice.
She was not easily ignored.
Still, he tried.
He fell in love at Beacon, with a girl who loved hard and seemingly fell for everyone except him. She had only one name printed on her body, and it was not his. Summer Rose was a dear friend, easy to care for and even easier to love.
Her name appeared on his wrist when they were seventeen. He had been worried sick to his stomach and had searched desperately for Winter's name. She was still there, standing guard over his heart as always.
He knew what Summer's name meant. Platonic soulmates were regarded just as highly as romantic ones. She was his dearest friend, and when she waved her wrist frantically before his face to show off his name, he decided this would be enough.
Everything went to shit after that. He lost Raven, lost Summer, and nearly lost Taiyang to his grief. And then he unknowingly found her.
Winter had stumbled into his life at the most inconvenient moment. He was half drunk, sleep deprived and angry at the world. He was on a mission through Atlas on Ozpin's directive.
And he had seen her, staring at him with impossibly blue eyes, and he hated her. He hated her with every fiber of his being. She was here, glowing in the muted greys of Atlas, and he had never resented her more for it.
She had reached for him, looking so desperate and confused at his response and he jerked away from her. Her name was aching and he wanted nothing more than to let her touch ease the fire raging beneath his skin.
It was easier if he said no, easier if she hated him. She was someone. She had a future, had a chance of some semblance of happiness. He was poison. Those around him only suffered.
Nothing he could give her would match the life she would lead here. She was safe, far from the tragedy that seemed to follow him.
So he turned his back to her.
"Take care of yourself, Winter."
He didn't realize his mistake until he touched her name that night.