Here is the next chapter! As I listed at the bottom of the previous chapter, this one will focus on 'The Lottery', a short story by Shirley Jackson. Some of you guys may know this one, since it was read to people at schools. It is also known for its disturbing content (at least disturbing for the time, and for school - it was written in 1948 after all).
Nobody really requested this one, I just thought it'd be a cool story to have the RWBY cast react to, especially with the twist at the end! Note that outside of the very beginning and ending lines (the one with the screens) the story of Jackson's is completely unaltered.
Now, on with the chapter!
I DO NOT OWN RWBY OR ANY OF THE SOURCES THAT I WILL HAVE THE CHARACTERS REACT TO. That being said, all of that is implied since it's fanfiction.
The Lottery (SHORT STORY)
Text by Shirley Jackson, for The New Yorker
"This new universe shows the tale of a people's tradition."
"Is this another video essay? Because while that last one was better than expected, I don't think I'd like a second one in a row….especially if it deals with people's society and culture." Mercury stated.
"Nope. It's an actual story!"
"Aw. Cool then."
"Hey Uncle Qrow, you've been to many towns and villages, so have there been any cool traditions you've seen in any of them?" Yang asked.
Qrow thought of his past missions for a bit, before responding. "Well…there's this one town in Mistral - Nikkoyoku. The name means Sunshine, or something like that. The reason it's called that is because before The Great War, the founders of the town had used these minerals called sunstones as navigational tools to find the area where the village would be, since the skies were cloudy and it was hard to find the sun properly. It was a rare area where no Grimm were found, and therefore a great place for people to settle at. To celebrate every anniversary of the town's founding, the people would create fire lanterns and send it to the sky, making miniature suns to light up the sky during the night."
"Wow. That's pretty neat!"
"That being said, the ability for sunstones to actually be used as a tool of navigation is disputed, but it is a story that is believed by the residents of Nikkoyoku regardless." Oobleck noted.
"I heard of that tradition. It's one I've always wanted to see, especially before I even started training back in Mistral." Pyrrha added.
"Anyways, it's even cooler since the lack of stars in the area due to clouds means that the lanterns are the only source of light, especially when the town lanterns are turned off." Qrow continued
"Is that safe?" Weiss asked.
"Well, the tradition does lift spirits, so it makes the grimm less likely to appear."
"I see. Well hopefully, the tradition in the video we're watching is just as interesting!"
"You'll see. Now, it's time for the show to begin!" Chrono stated as he began the video.
The screen sprang to life, and the video began.
The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 26th, but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took only about two hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.
"Hmm. Quite a small village, it seems." Ozpin noted. "Only about a few hundred."
"Agreed. It does seem like a very nice place, however." Glynda stated.
"I wonder what type of tradition the village has?" Oobleck questioned.
"Well it seems to start around…" Qrow paused to look at the position of the sun on the screen to see what time of day it was. "...early in the morning? Who knows?"
"And it's family friendly since everybody is there, even the children." Pyrrha mentioned.
The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play, and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example, selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix—the villagers pronounced this name "Dellacroy"—eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls stood aside, talking among themselves, looking over their shoulders at the boys, and the very small children rolled in the dust or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters.
Soon the men began to gather, surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands. Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping hand and ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly and took his place between his father and his oldest brother.
"So their tradition is a lottery?" Weiss pointed out, seeing how there was mention of it earlier.
"A yearly raffle? That's a bit of a weird thing to do…what do those stones have to do with it however?" Ren replied.
"I can see why people are nervous though! I'd like to win the lottery! Imagine what we can get with all that money, Renny!" Nora pointed out.
The lottery was conducted—as were the square dances, the teen-age club, the Halloween program—by Mr. Summers, who had time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and people were sorry for him, because he had no children and his wife was scolded. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called, "Little late today, folks." The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three-legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and Mr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space between themselves and the stool, and when Mr. Summers said, "Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?," there was a hesitation before two men, Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, came forward to hold the box steady on the stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.
"Looks like it's finally beginning!" Jaune mentioned.
"I wonder why it's not just broadcast through television like we do nowadays." Ruby asked.
"Well the people in the town seem to be wearing very dated clothes, so maybe it's set in the olden days or something like that." Yang gave her answer to her sister.
"AND SPEAKING of those clothes…how drab are they! No color! No style! Did people really wear stuff like that in the past! I'm so glad I was born in this era…" Coco mentioned.
The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything being done. The black box grew shabbier each year; by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.
"Talk about strict adherence. I don't think even Atlas is like that." Taiyang noted.
"Yeah, if anything went out of date in Atlas, they'd immediately update it!" Penny declared.
"Not in Mantle though…" Weiss stated, feeling bad for how the city underneath Atlas' shadow was always left behind.
Watts smirked at the SDC heiress' statement. And that's why it'll be so easy to get past Atlas' defenses…James doesn't even bother with Mantle. His head is all the way in the clouds.
Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued, had been all very well when the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into the black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them into the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to the square the next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put away, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves' barn and another year underfoot in the post office, and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.
There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery open. There were the lists to make up—of heads of families, heads of households in each family, members of each household in each family. There was the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the official of the lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort, performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory, tuneless chant that had been rattled off duly each year; some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it, others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this part of the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute, which the official of the lottery had had to use in addressing each person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with time, until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching. Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans, with one hand resting carelessly on the black box, he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the Martins.
"They pick and choose which parts of the tradition to continue and to drop." Ghira noted. "Changing the box is unnecessary despite it being practical to do so, but changing to slips of paper is fine?"
"People can be odd like that." Kali pointed out.
Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. "Clean forgot what day it was," she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, and they both laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back stacking wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on, "and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twenty-seventh and came a-running." She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, "You're in time, though. They're still talking away up there."
Tyrian perked up when he saw who Mrs Hutchinson was. "Mistress! It's you! You're finally in one of these viewings!" He immediately got angry though. "But as some housewife! How insulting!"
"Now, now, Tyrian. It's fine." Salem stated to her most loyal servant, calming him down. "Remember! It's my actress, not me."
"Yes! Yes….I apologize…" Tyrian replied as he lowered his head in shame.
Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and children standing near the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way through the crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through; two or three people said, in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your Mrs., Hutchinson," and "Bill, she made it after all." Mrs. Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said cheerfully, "Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson said, grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink, now, would you, Joe?," and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson's arrival.
"Well, now," Mr. Summers said soberly, "guess we better get started, get this over with, so's we can go back to work. Anybody ain't here?"
"Dunbar," several people said. "Dunbar, Dunbar."
"So some people are gonna miss out on the lottery?" Mercury said. "That's stupid. Missing out on a chance for money?"
"I hate to agree with Merc with a mouth over here, but he's right. That Dunbar guy seems like an idiot." Roman added on.
"Oh come on, maybe he has a good reason for missing out!" Ruby challenged, remaining optimistic and not liking Roman's cynicism.
Mr. Summers consulted his list. "Clyde Dunbar," he said. "That's right. He's broke his leg, hasn't he? Who's drawing for him?"
"Me, I guess," a woman said, and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. "Wife draws for her husband," Mr. Summers said. "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers and everyone else in the village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest while Mrs. Dunbar answered.
"Horace's not but sixteen yet," Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. "Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year."
"Ha! I knew it!" Ruby said in triumph.
Roman scoffed. "He could've used a crutch or something…"
"Well, he still has someone drawing for him! So he doesn't miss out! Suck it, Torchwick!"
"That just make-"
"And that lady can't just steal the money if he wins! Because the entire town will know!"
Roman growled. Red was actually right.
"Right," Mr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, "Watson boy drawing this year?"
A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I'm drawing for m'mother and me." He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said things like "Good fellow, Jack," and "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it."
What the hell does that mean? Yang thought with narrowed eyebrows. This town seems very close minded, I guess the clothes are not the only things that are old…
"Well," Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. Old Man Warner make it?"
"Here," a voice said, and Mr. Summers nodded.
A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. "All ready?" he called. "Now, I'll read the names—heads of families first—and the men come up and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn. Everything clear?"
"Ooh! I wonder who's gonna win!" Nora was bubbling with excitement, and ready to burst out her seat.
Probably the Grimm Lady on the other side of the seats…Ren thought, noticing how it was her who was Tessie in the viewing. He didn't voice out his thoughts obviously, not wanting her to focus on him.
The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions; most of them were quiet, wetting their lips, not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised one hand high and said, "Adams." A man disengaged himself from the crowd and came forward. "Hi, Steve," Mr. Summers said, and Mr. Adams said, "Hi, Joe." They grinned at one another humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the black box and took out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and went hastily back to his place in the crowd, where he stood a little apart from his family, not looking down at his hand.
"Allen," Mr. Summers said. "Anderson. . . . Bentham."
"Seems like there's no time at all between lotteries any more," Mrs. Delacroix said to Mrs. Graves in the back row. "Seems like we got through with the last one only last week."
"Time sure goes fast," Mrs. Graves said.
"Clark. . . . Delacroix."
"There goes my old man," Mrs. Delacroix said. She held her breath while her husband went forward.
"I still don't see how the winner of this lottery will really show us something…" Neptune said, not really getting the point of the viewing.
"I guess we'll just have to watch to the end." Sun replied.
"Dunbar," Mr. Summers said, and Mrs. Dunbar went steadily to the box while one of the women said, "Go on, Janey," and another said, "There she goes."
"We're next," Mrs. Graves said. She watched while Mr. Graves came around from the side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers gravely, and selected a slip of paper from the box. By now, all through the crowd there were men holding the small folded papers in their large hands, turning them over and over nervously. Mrs. Dunbar and her two sons stood together, Mrs. Dunbar holding the slip of paper.
"Harburt. . . . Hutchinson."
"Get up there, Bill," Mrs. Hutchinson said, and the people near her laughed.
"Jones."
"Seems like Tessie is eager…" Raven said.
Ozpin saw how Salem (or Tessie in this case) talked to Bill. She seems to act the same way that she did with me. Although all we're seeing are just very short interactions so far…
"They do say," Mr. Adams said to Old Man Warner, who stood next to him, "that over in the north village they're talking of giving up the lottery."
Old Man Warner snorted. "Pack of crazy fools," he said. "Listening to the young folks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to go back to living in caves, nobody work any more, live that way for a while. Used to be a saying about 'Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.' First thing you know, we'd all be eating stewed chickweed and acorns. There's always been a lottery," he added petulantly. "Bad enough to see young Joe Summers up there joking with everybody."
"Some places have already quit lotteries," Mrs. Adams said.
"Nothing but trouble in that," Old Man Warner said stoutly. "Pack of young fools."
Adam scoffed. "Traditionalists…so resistant to change."
Ghira heard the man and frowned at him. Blake felt a bit of guilt pool in her stomach. While she did apologize already, she really did genuinely think the same of her parents back in the past.
"Martin." And Bobby Martin watched his father go forward. "Overdyke. . . . Percy."
"I wish they'd hurry," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. "I wish they'd hurry."
"They're almost through," her son said.
"You get ready to run tell Dad," Mrs. Dunbar said.
Mr. Summers called his own name and then stepped forward precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then he called, "Warner."
"Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery," Old Man Warner said as he went through the crowd. "Seventy-seventh time."
Qrow snorted. "He sounds like those old people who always speak of the old days…'50 years I've been doing this' that and 'back in my day' this!" He said whilst imitating an elderly person's voice.
Yang laughed at the impression, whilst Ruby seized a golden opportunity.
"Uncle Qrow! That sounds like you!"
Yang laughed even more, and Taiyang joined in.
Qrow just smiled. "Hey Ruby! In the next break, I'll teach you some fighting techniques without your scythe! If you know what I mean!"
Oh geez…I know what that means! "...I-I was just kidding!" Ruby laughed nervously. "I wasn't being serious! I promise!"
"Watson." The tall boy came awkwardly through the crowd. Someone said, "Don't be nervous, Jack," and Mr. Summers said, "Take your time, son."
"Zanini."
After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until Mr. Summers, holding his slip of paper in the air, said, "All right, fellows." For a minute, no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were opened. Suddenly, all the women began to speak at once, saying, "Who is it?," "Who's got it?," "Is it the Dunbars?," "Is it the Watsons?" Then the voices began to say, "It's Hutchinson. It's Bill," "Bill Hutchinson's got it."
"Go tell your father," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son.
I knew it. Ren thought.
"Figured." Hazel said simply. Tyrian smiled at the result.
"That makes sense. She does appear to be the focus of this viewing, so it makes sense her family would win it." Ozpin mentioned to himself.
Interesting. Salem thought. I wonder what the prize is?
People began to look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly, Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr. Summers, "You didn't give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It wasn't fair!"
"Be a good sport, Tessie," Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs. Graves said, "All of us took the same chance."
"Shut up, Tessie," Bill Hutchinson said.
Tessie's declaration of unfairness through the entire crowd in the cinema into a loop (excluding the host of course). Many voiced their confusion.
"Um…"
"Wait a sec…"
"What?"
"Huh?"
"Is the lottery's prize not a good thing? Why would she look panicked?" Glynda asked Ozpin.
"I guess this is why Chrono wanted us to watch this." The headmaster discerned.
"Well, everyone," Mr. Summers said, "that was done pretty fast, and now we've got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time." He consulted his next list. "Bill," he said, "you draw for the Hutchinson family. You got any other households in the Hutchinsons?"
"There's Don and Eva," Mrs. Hutchinson yelled. "Make them take their chance!"
"Daughters draw with their husbands' families, Tessie," Mr. Summers said gently. "You know that as well as anyone else."
"It wasn't fair," Tessie said.
"Well, she wasn't complaining a few minutes ago…" Ironwood pointed out.
"It seems that she is a sore loser…or, um, winner?" Winter added.
Now that sounds EVEN more like her. Ozpin thought. She always told me about how the Brothers were unfair to her, especially after I died the first time.
"I guess not, Joe," Bill Hutchinson said regretfully. "My daughter draws with her husband's family, that's only fair. And I've got no other family except the kids."
"Then, as far as drawing for families is concerned, it's you," Mr. Summers said in explanation, "and as far as drawing for households is concerned, that's you, too. Right?"
"Right," Bill Hutchinson said.
"How many kids, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked formally.
"Three," Bill Hutchinson said. "There's Bill, Jr., and Nancy, and little Dave. And Tessie and me."
"All right, then," Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you got their tickets back?"
"Well now I'm concerned," Weiss said. "...What exactly is the prize?"
Mr. Graves nodded and held up the slips of paper. "Put them in the box, then," Mr. Summers directed. "Take Bill's and put it in."
"I think we ought to start over," Mrs. Hutchinson said, as quietly as she could. "I tell you it wasn't fair. You didn't give him time enough to choose. Everybody saw that."
Mr. Graves had selected the five slips and put them in the box, and he dropped all the papers but those onto the ground, where the breeze caught them and lifted them off.
"Listen, everybody," Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her.
"Wow. They REALLY don't care at all." Velvet stated.
Tyrian scowled at how they were ignoring Tessie. How dare they!
Salem frowned. It's like how the Brothers didn't care about my arguments all those years ago…
"Ready, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked, and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance around at his wife and children, nodded.
"Remember," Mr. Summers said, "take the slips and keep them folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave." Mr. Graves took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the box. "Take a paper out of the box, Davy," Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand into the box and laughed. "Take just one paper," Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you hold it for him." Mr. Graves took the child's hand and removed the folded paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to him and looked up at him wonderingly.
"Nancy next," Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve, and her school friends breathed heavily as she went forward, switching her skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box. "Bill, Jr.," Mr. Summers said, and Billy, his face red and his feet overlapping, nearly knocked the box over as he got a paper out. "Tessie," Mr. Summers said. She hesitated for a minute, looking around defiantly, and then set her lips and went up to the box. She snatched a paper out and held it behind her.
"Bill," Mr. Summers said, and Bill Hutchinson reached into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last with the slip of paper in it.
The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, "I hope it's not Nancy," and the sound of the whisper reached the edges of the crowd.
"Honestly? If the prize is as bad as it seems, I hope none of the kids get it." Jaune said.
Many murmured in agreement.
"It's not the way it used to be," Old Man Warner said clearly. "People ain't the way they used to be."
"All right," Mr. Summers said. "Open the papers. Harry, you open little Dave's."
Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and there was a general sigh through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could see that it was blank. Nancy and Bill, Jr., opened theirs at the same time, and both beamed and laughed, turning around to the crowd and holding their slips of paper above their heads.
"Tessie," Mr. Summers said. There was a pause, and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and showed it. It was blank.
"It's Tessie," Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. "Show us her paper, Bill."
Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal-company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the crowd.
"All right, folks," Mr. Summers said. "Let's finish quickly."
"...Finish what?" Blake said. She was confused at what the prize was, and went back in her mind to Ren mentioning the stones. Do they relate somehow?
Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of paper that had come out of the box. Mrs. Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. "Come on," she said. "Hurry up."
Mrs. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said, gasping for breath. "I can't run at all. You'll have to go ahead and I'll catch up with you."
The children had stones already, and someone gave little Davy Hutchinson a few pebbles.
"...Why are they gathering the pebbles?" Nora asked.
Ren grimaced as the worst possible scenario came into his mind. He then used his semblance. No. No way they do that to the winner. That's would be horrible!
Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. "It isn't fair," she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head.
Old Man Warner was saying, "Come on, come on, everyone." Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.
"It isn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.
The screen turned to black.
The ending made much of the audience gasp collectively in shock. Then, the stillness black screen contrasted with the pandemonium that occurred immediately.
"What the fuck?!" Yang shouted.
"A stoning? That's the prize?!" Weiss screeched.
"Wow. I really didn't think they'd do that…" Ren uttered.
"You expected that to happen?!" Nora said to her partner.
"Well the stones always seemed off to me!"
"That's a sick tradition…" Pyrrha added on.
When the initial shock wore down, many began to talk about what they saw.
"You can always trust the humans to be barbarous like that…" Adam mentioned.
"Forgetting parts of culture, but always remembering the violence. Figures." Ilia also pointed out.
Meanwhile, Qrow and Ozpin were focused on Salem's appearance in the viewing - going away from the rest of the group towards some isolated seats.
As Ozpin and Qrow sat back down next to each other, the headmaster began to speak. "What I'm going to tell you is something I haven't told the others, and anyone else in many, many years, Qrow. I need you to promise me to not mention this to any other soul. At least not for now." [1]
"Well damn, Oz." Qrow replied. He agreed however, and nodded. Ozpin continued.
"Me and Salem have a history. In fact, we were…very close, if you get what I mean."
Qrow's eyes widened.
"However, when I died for the first time, she thought it unfair and tried to bring me back, tricking the Brother Gods to resurrect me."
"You mean the Brothers are real?" Qrow whispered in a shock.
"Yes. However, they discovered this treachery and cursed her."
"Is that why she's a Grimm."
"Yes". [2]
"Shit…and I reckon it was this unfairness that Tessie said in the viewing that reminds you of her?" Qrow replied.
"That is in fact what I was thinking."
"Fair enough. But why tell me? Why not G? Or Jimmy?"
"Because you're the only see who has seen her in the Grimmlands. You are our scout, Qrow. And it is crucial that you know how she thinks."
Qrow slumped down further in his seat, and sighed, as he ran his hand through his hair. That's a lot to take in. After a moment however, Qrow chuckled.
Ozpin raised his eyebrows. "What's so amusing?" He asked, curious.
"It's just that I can see why Salem chose some of her followers then. They think the same. It's kind of pathetic actually."
"What do you mean?"
"They couldn't accept the reality of the situations they were in, and so they turned to her. Hazel was in our year, and when Gretchen died - he couldn't take it, and so he blamed her unfair demise on you. Same with that Doc. When Jimmy chose that Pietro guy as the lead scientist, I remember seeing on the news during a mission in Atlas that he threw a hissy fit, before apparently dying in an accident. I guess he faked his death and went to work with Salem when he thought James was being unfair to him." Qrow growled. "That doctor definitely has the stupidest reason."
Ozpin looked down solemnly. "I can't really blame Hazel for thinking me to be the cause however."
"Well I disagree, and I think he's bullshitting himself. Gretchen died a goddamn hero in Mountain Glenn. She's the reason most of the city was able to escape unharmed!" [3]
"Perhaps. But thinking death to be unfair is not unreasonable at all." Ozpin replied. His mind drifted back to The Great War. How he had to slaughter thousands in the sands of Vacuo to end the conflict. They didn't know any better…they didn't deserve to die like that. He hated that he had to stop bloodshed by shedding more blood. The huntsmen were meant to stop that…
"Well death happens. Sometimes, you have to accept that." Qrow retorted.
"Is this your old bandit side speaking?"
Qrow scoffed. "I didn't need to be raised in a bandit tribe to know that truth."
When Qrow and Ozpin went back to the rest of the group, they had begun to wrap up their arguments. When they went back to their seats, attempts by Glynda and Ironwood to ask what they were talking about were interrupted by Chrono.
"Alright! It's time for the next viewing! I think you guys might like this!"
And that's it for The Lottery! I decided to focus on only one conversation this time after the viewing. I hope it showed Ozpin and Qrow's mindsets in a good way. I believe that Ozpin regrets having to kill so many in the end of The Great War (a theory is that Ozpin was the King of Vale who ended the war by killing thousands in the climactic battle of Vacuo with the Relic of Choice and Destruction). This ends up being the cause of wanting to make the huntsmen, to mitigate bloodshed.
[1] - I don't think Ozpin really told any of his circle the full scale of his and Salem's past (and for good reason). All he really told it seems (prior to Volume 6), was that Salem is the Grimm Queen, and he reincarnates to try and beat her.
[2] - Ozpin would still lie, in my opinion. No need for him to tell Qrow about Salem's immortality, especially since he doesn't know, and him learning about it in canon made him lose hope.
[3] - I decided to connect Gretchen's death to the Mountain Glenn incident, as well as connect Qrow and Hazel. It might be a bit off, especially with the latter, since I don't really think there are any signs that Hazel and Qrow know each other like that. However, if that's the case - it can just be that both Hazel and Qrow were years apart - and so Qrow only knew Hazel by name.
AND NOW TO ANSWER SOME QUESTIONS/SUGGESTIONS FROM REVIEWS:
Zekken182: Thanks man, and don't worry! I'll be posting new chapters for a couple of more weeks! I plan to post at least 8 more after this one. Hopefully that plan works out!
The Hat Of The Hats: Thanks for the review, and I don't mind that you didn't notice my updates. I did kinda stop for a while after Chapter 5 lol. I just hope I get to see a chapter from YOUR reaction fic soon! As for your ideas, the Armstrong Speech one does intrigue, and it gave me an idea to do Jonathan Irons' speech from Advanced Warfare - I'll probably have Ironwood play him (especially with the Irons name and the Atlas angle). But I'll try to do Armstrong's speech too - and another connecting scene as well if possible! I do have ideas too, though.
Jose Blas: I don't think I'll be able to do it so soon. It's crucial to remember that Raven is still struggling with her love for her family, and her own cowardice. In Canon, she didn't even apologize until Yang outright went to her and Qrow didn't consider her family anymore. Hopefully the scene of Raven trying to go up to Yang and then backing down helps convey that. I might have her go to her in full in the next interlude though.
INFNIT09: I watched 'The Ghost of Yarikawa' mission on YouTube since you suggested it, and it seems like a solid enough mission to do a chapter on. The only issue that I'll try to remedy is trying to describe the stances and movements that Sakai does. But I can just search it up.
See you guys next time!
NEXT CHAPTER: White Sheep (FIC)