Who: Qrow & various people What: December catch-all When: Throughout December Where: Around town, in memories, Trench Silent Hill, etc [ooc: starters in the comments! if you'd like something specific, pls hit me up on plurk or discord to plot!]
[When the sirens clear, what emerges is certainly Trench but it's -- off. The streets were never lined with so many empty alcohol bottles, for one thing. Nor were there burnt rose petals scattered about the place, entirely too many to be sheer, strange, coincidence. Perhaps most eerie of all is the occasional unique weapon laying around in various states of disrepair, bearing strange symbols that have the quality of a signature about them.
If you are not properly armed yourself, though, it might be worth picking one up. Because it's not long before the Grimm appear, tar-black monsters with masks and various protrusions of bone white, accented in bloody crimson. These will attempt to charge at you, to gore you, to rip you apart from limb to limb. They're mindless, powered by sheer destructive will, and drawn to anything with a soul in general and the presence of negative emotion in particular. Most are straightforward to fight, and will crumble into ash when killed -- but some are especially dangerous. The Chill, for instance, which possesses its victims, and the Apathy, which drain your will to live. But take heart; if you are in an inescapable situation with these monsters, perhaps the light of a Silver-Eyed warrior will come to your rescue...though you will never get a good look at them before they disappear from sight.
These are far from the only threats you'll face here, though. The outer areas of Trench--Trenchwood, Feed, Ache, and Shiver--have become bandit territory. These people have one rule, and one rule only: the strong survive, the weak die. They are vicious, persistent, and will do whatever it takes to gain the upper hand in a fight, no matter how dirty or underhanded it might be. Sometimes, you might even get ambushed in the commercial districts like Willful Machine or Cellar Door. Those are places that are full of distractions, after all.
But even "safer" districts aren't necessarily safe. In Cassandra, Crenshaw, and especially Prufrock, you may suddenly find wanted posters with your face on them, as soldiers in in navy and white uniforms come after you. These ones are both easier and harder to fight; they are not as vicious as the bandits, but they have more powerful weapons, and there seems to be a never ending stream of them. If you're captured by the soldiers, you will be dragged off to the Gate to be locked away with the Beasts. It's the only way to keep Trench safe, they say.]
( It isn't the first time that Peter's found himself in something like Trench, but different. Wrong. His first thought is that he's right back where he was last time, the version of Trench with rolling black fog and impassioned cries of Riteoir rising from the streets. Beasts prowling too close into the city. He's lucky he survived last time.
However, it soon enough becomes clear that this might be something... different. The little things are there β he stumbles over empty bottles and so many burnt rose petals, but it isn't until a monster comes for him that he begins to think this might be something else. The thing is big and an awful shiny black, and Peter can't run fast enough. The process of being brought into this place must be affecting the demon inside of him, for Paimon doesn't surface to protect him. Not even when Peter cries out his name in desperation, something he's so rarely done; the ancient demon that haunts Peter frightens him almost as much as the beast he faces now.
He's alone. He's alone and the thing has him cornered, and he thinks he's going to die.
And then someone β or something β else is there. Peter barely comprehends what's happening, only sees quick flashes of movement as the figure slashes a weapon at the beast, which crumples into ash. He sees a flicker of silver and they're gone, as quickly as they came, and the young man is left leaning weakly against the brick of a nearby building, panting against the panic that was swelling up in his chest, trying to talk himself down from it.
There's a thought through his horrified daze, and it makes a strange kind of sense. The rose petals. The beast... he's seen something similar to that before. And the silver eyes.
Ruby?
From there, Peter makes his way through this alternate version of the city, something that's even more of a hellscape than it usually is. Is Ruby... here? Was that her? Could he be in one of her memories? He doesn't know where to go, how to find her, what to do. So he just wanders, sticking close to buildings and moving slow and quiet. He keeps huddled down as short as he can, willing his six-foot frame and long limbs to take up as little space as possible, shuddering as he moves.
After a while of moving through the city, he catches movement up ahead and flinches, almost convulsively. Until he realises it's a person, and Peter's eyes go wide, heart pounding in his chest as he calls out. )
[It's not Ruby who answers, but the figure that turns as he's called out to does bear a ... striking aesthetic similarity, not least because he's also wielding a scythe. The kid looks familiar--Qrow has seen him around before, at the rebuilding of his house and at Ruby's wedding--though he can't bring the kid's name to mind, if he ever knew it at all. He raises a faint eyebrow at the boy's terrified expression, though. There's something faintly uncomfortable in it -- when he was young, the fear of others made him feel powerful, useful, even. The strong survive, the weak die. Those were the rules.
Qrow isn't above intimidating others now, if there's a pressing need for it, but most of the time his enemies are unhinged enough that there's little point in doing more than dispatching them as efficiently as he can. To see some kid afraid of him for no apparent reason settles uneasily within him.]
Chill out, kid, I don't bite. [A beat, then a shit-eating grin] Well, not most people, anyway.
( As the person ahead turns to face him, Peter's met with a startle of recognition β he knows he's seen the man too, someone who's been on the peripheral of Peter's vision for a while. He's never met him though, or spoken to him (at least as much as he can remember; demonic possession tends to do a number on his mental state and capacity to recall details...)
But there's something else. Maybe it is the scythe, but Peter does think, once again, of Ruby. And is reminded with a fresh bloom of confusion that this place seems to be connected to his friend somehow. It's a relief to bump into another person in all this bizareness, even if Peter's eyeing him nervously still, looking all tensed up. )
Man, I'm glad to see another person around. Do you uh... know what's going on?
[He'd heard the siren, of course, though it hadn't quite clicked that there was anything particularly unusual happening at present. The fog, sure, but monsters coming in from other worlds wasn't entirely new, and he had not clocked the bottles or the rose petals as targeted, just yet.]
Do you mean the Grimm? [It's an educated guess, mostly] The town likes to bring in monsters from other worlds, sometimes. These ones are from mine.
( And then there it is, laid out. Those monsters are from this guy's world, he says. Which means.... )
You're from Ruby's world?
( It's not such a strange concept; Peter knows there's a couple of people here that came from the same world as Ruby did. He's familiar with Oscar, and he's seen that Oz guy pop up on the network a couple of times, as well as helped fix up the house they all lived in. )
( Oh shit! There's an almost comical expression of surprise, and Peter's taking in the man with fresh awareness now. So he's..... )
You're Uncle Qrow?
( Yes, Peter, that would be... the implication, here... But there's a new wave of relief now; if he's with Ruby's uncle, surely he must be safe now, right? )
She's a really good friend of mine. I uh, met her back in Deerington. ( He nods, for the immediate moment actually able to focus on this and not his terror of the situation around them. ) Were you there, too?
( Peter actually, believe it or not, manages a laugh at that before he can stop himself. Dude, it's Uncle Qrow! And he's cool.)
Yeah, I was there. I'm uh, Peter. Peter Graham. There used to be a lot more Peters around here, but.... I guess not so much, anymore. ( Used to be so many that he did have to clarify by last names. Is he the last Peter standing, now...? )
It's good to finally meet you. And bump into somebody who knows about those Grimm things. You guys' world sounds terrifying.
[Qrow actually huffs a quiet bark of a laugh of his own at that.]
I'll let you in on a little secret, kiddo. [He half-whispers conspiratorially.] The Grimm aren't even the scariest thing, back there. Maybe not even top 5.
[Grimm just destroy mindlessly and turn to ash when you stab them enough. People, now that's the real bullshit.]
( There's a wide-eyed stare at that β something scarier than those monsters?? Holy shit. (Of course, Peter would understand the whole "People are the scariest things of all" thing. It's something he's certainly learned the hard way through his own life.)
For now, though... he's casting a nervous glance back over his shoulder, hands rubbing against his own arms like he's cold, barely able to conceal the shudder that slips through him. )
No wonder she's so good at handling Trench. ( If Ruby β and her family β are used to a world like that... Trench must not be too surprising. )
Someone... saved me from one of them, just a few minutes ago. I thought it might be Ruby, but... I'm not sure. They disappeared too quick. I just saw silver eyes.
Yeah, believe it or not, this place is more or less a comfortable retirement for us.
[On any given day, Qrow could simply choose to stay inside and mess around with his boyfriend and there will be no monsters that come for him. The main reason he still fights monsters at all is that he would climb the walls from boredom were he to be fully idle.
The mention of someone with silver eyes has him stiffen a little, though, and he's suddenly looking around them carefully. The only other living person he knows with silver eyes is Maria, but it is not as though the dead cannot come out of the sea. He doubts Ruby would simply protect her friend and then disappear from sight, though, so ..... hm.]
People born with silver eyes from our world are special. They have extra power against the Grimm, the kind that can turn even a massive one to stone with just a glance.
[But why would they have just left? And why are Grimm out here in the first place? He hasn't heard anything on the network about monsters leaking into Trench from other worlds again, nor seen anything like those tears in reality from last April. There's something to this coincidence that itches just under his skin, but he can't quite get his fingers around it just yet.]
In the meantime -- well, Harbinger's not quite the same level of flashy, but I like to think it's pretty cool, anyway. Which way is your place?
[when he first sees the alcohol bottles he isn't as shocked as he should be. it's a fair (if slightly low) blow for trench to take, but the sirens indicate it's not quite trench, it's ...that distorted thing that's not quite a dream either - and that's enough to set him more on edge.
he bends to pick up a handful of burnt petals, pocketing them with a bit of curiosity alongside the dread. lying amongst them is a pistol - though he's not sure what kind of gun it is beyond that - he's not a gun person, not really, but he picks it up (because he's not a fighter, either, and he couldn't begin to fuck someone up with karate) and ...well, just kind of stares at it not knowing where to put it.
wait, what's that?
ah, he has a holster now. cool. he's got a gun pocket, but it's not like he can manifest skill, so he's still shit out of luck, there.
no, he's shit out of luck in a different way. because that's ...not friendly looking, and it's headed in his direction. his first impulse is to hide, and he ducks into an alleyway - smoke bursting from his chest as his omen speeds out and away in an attempt to distract the grimm. she's fast, and she's unafraid, but she's also very small.]
[The shriek of a Grimm is one Qrow knows down to his very bones, enough so that he could likely tell them apart at a distance like a skilled ornithologist could songbirds. So of course, when Qrow hears one, he's on his way immediately. Mike, having ducked into an alley, misses out on the moment in which an apparently otherwise normal bird touches down as a man and pulls a huge sword off his back which proceeds to transform into a an even more massive scythe.
He does, however, get to experience all sorts of alarming sounds in full clarity, before the creature lets out one final shriek and then falls silent. Should Mike find it safe to peek out of the alley once quiet falls again, he won't see a monster corpse out there, as it has already crumbled into ash. Instead, there's only a scruffy middle-aged man with a massive scythe hoisted over his shoulder peering over at him.
The man gestures with a hand at the omen, which seems to be overall uninjured despite having pulled distraction duty for the first minute or so before his arrival.]
[he may not see it, but hearing it's a whole story of its own - and it's a bit of a war of bad judgment (look at what's happening) vs. common sense (stay the fuck put) because it sure sounds like there's a fight - and if his tiny rat is kicking ass, he wants to be there to see it.
by the time he steps out, delmira's there, looking no worse for wear - in fact, she looks relieved when her eyes meet mike's - before they look up toward the hero of the hour and answer the question before mike can.]
[oh. so, the question was not meant for her, and that could be awkward, but delmira will just run toward her sleeper, to scurry up to his shoulder, watching qrow curiously.]
Good guess, but the rat's out of the bag. [a little pat to the omen's head, though mike's eyes stay fixed on the scythe. that's ...some weapon.] I'm gonna guess that [a gesture to the weapon] took care of...
[a quick search before his gaze lands on the ash. that's something, too. of course it would be ash. he needs to stop being surprised.]
What's---is that ...a scythe? Was that already yours? I ...found a gun, but I don't know shit about guns.
[The question was not meant for her, no, but Qrow doesn't look fussed about it. His lover is very close with his omen, too. Qrow is among the last holdouts, in terms of interactions with his own.
He does grin a little smugly as the man stares at his weapon, though.]
Yep, this is Harbinger. Designed it myself years ago.
[Harbinger is super cool and deserves all the appreciation, okay. Good scythe best friend.]
Much as being trashed might be more fun than dealing with this shit, though, tossing bottles at the Grimm isn't gonna do much more than piss 'em off. If you can't fight, stay behind me. I'll get you home.
[you know what? that's a solid plan. guy's got his shit together, that's for sure. in real life, insofar as hands and feet and landing shots on the body, mike's no fighter. back home he's even less of one unless he counts himself, unless he counts that one time he made a molotov cocktail and blew an eldritch hotel room to kingdom come.
so ...that's one vote in favor of the bottle, though it isn't the way qrow might be thinking of it. wasn't the way he though of it initially either, but he's here now ...at that thought. it's also a solid plan.
well, maybe more of a backup plan.
it's easy enough to retrieve a bottle that's whole enough to do the job. it hasn't manifested anything flammable in it yet, but he's distracted by that weapon. and smug recognizes smug. it's a hell of a thing. he whistles in appreciation - that's some skill.]
[Who knew the day would come in which someone described Qrow Branwen as having his shit together. It'd certainly be a strange experience for Qrow, if he were aware of those thoughts.]
Oh, you know, they're not a big fan. But unless you've got a whole lot of it, running's a better choice. Or, say, slicing off their heads, but I'm guessing that's not the most doable idea for you right about now.
[Like, could you burn a Grimm to death? 100%. But if that's not your Semblance and you don't have Fire Dust or some such on you, trying to is a waste of time you could be spending running away.]
[not many things, it seems, are big fans of fire. it's understandable, really. and he could have a whole lot of it - that might happen, but he'd rather not rely on that just now. jury's out on how much fire he'll get.]
Running? Now that, I can do, no question. Question's only for how long.
[the karate training's coming in handy here, too. because a month ago? he would be in no shape to be sprinting. he's still not, but it's much better than where he started.]
You're the headunter here, pal. You go, I follow. And try not to get myself killed.
[another nod to that scythe. it's like something out of a movie.]
[Qrow shakes his head. "How long" would only really be an issue if he was alone, after all.]
Don't worry about that. If you're running and I stay back fighting, they'll come after me, not you. Long as you're not freaking out too hard, anyway. At a baseline, no real difference to them between my soul and yours, but they're drawn to negative emotions.
[A shrug, maybe a little too casual. Someone who's faced these things for too many years to be fazed by what he's saying any longer.]
[a quick look around, frowning and considering not freaking out too hard when it seems like these things eat souls. and are drawn to ...well, he huffs a laugh at negative emotions, because just being in this altered version of the city's enough to bring a lot of his issues to the forefront. so. can he try and chill out a little? maybe. his fingers go to the cigarette tucked behind his ear.
no, not yet. but it's there. it's a familiar tick.]
Over there?
[toward some larger buildings, one of which looks less ...rusted than the rest of them. it's weird. he suddenly feels as if all of this matters just a little less. is that good or bad? unsure just yet. delmira sniffs the air, whiskers twitching.]
[Look, it's fine, by Remnant standards he is being chill. It'd probably be less distressing if the Grimm DID eat souls instead of just being out for wanton destruction around anything with a soul, really. A hungry creature would be more likely to make mistakes.]
Alright, let's get moving, then. Faster the better.
[he can do faster, though he's minding the business of the bottles and assorted debris, crouching as he goes to snatch up one of those bottles into a hand, not noticing the progression of liquid slowly filling it as he follows the only friend he seems to have in this new, grim hellscape.
grim. ha. yeah, not the best time for a joke, but not the worst. he keeps the joke to himself, and any questions about the entity, too - beyond what he's already asked. he knows what he needs to know, that this is dangerous and he should move his ass out of their line of ...everything. if the bottle pickup earns him a look, he'll simply whisper backup plan, without much fanfare and keep moving.]
[He may be frysquinting the bottles a little but it's ultimately not his problem, he figures. All he needs to do is keep the monsters off this guy, and whatever reason he wants to hoard them for hopefully won't need to come up at all.
En route, he shoots down a few Lancers, though shrieks in the distance warn of more creatures to come.]
Hoooow we doing over there? Just so we're on the same page, you're gonna need to warn me before you hit a 'can't keep running' point, or I'll have to carry you and I guarantee you'll hate it.
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atmosphere/monsters
If you are not properly armed yourself, though, it might be worth picking one up. Because it's not long before the Grimm appear, tar-black monsters with masks and various protrusions of bone white, accented in bloody crimson. These will attempt to charge at you, to gore you, to rip you apart from limb to limb. They're mindless, powered by sheer destructive will, and drawn to anything with a soul in general and the presence of negative emotion in particular. Most are straightforward to fight, and will crumble into ash when killed -- but some are especially dangerous. The Chill, for instance, which possesses its victims, and the Apathy, which drain your will to live. But take heart; if you are in an inescapable situation with these monsters, perhaps the light of a Silver-Eyed warrior will come to your rescue...though you will never get a good look at them before they disappear from sight.
These are far from the only threats you'll face here, though. The outer areas of Trench--Trenchwood, Feed, Ache, and Shiver--have become bandit territory. These people have one rule, and one rule only: the strong survive, the weak die. They are vicious, persistent, and will do whatever it takes to gain the upper hand in a fight, no matter how dirty or underhanded it might be. Sometimes, you might even get ambushed in the commercial districts like Willful Machine or Cellar Door. Those are places that are full of distractions, after all.
But even "safer" districts aren't necessarily safe. In Cassandra, Crenshaw, and especially Prufrock, you may suddenly find wanted posters with your face on them, as soldiers in in navy and white uniforms come after you. These ones are both easier and harder to fight; they are not as vicious as the bandits, but they have more powerful weapons, and there seems to be a never ending stream of them. If you're captured by the soldiers, you will be dragged off to the Gate to be locked away with the Beasts. It's the only way to keep Trench safe, they say.]
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However, it soon enough becomes clear that this might be something... different. The little things are there β he stumbles over empty bottles and so many burnt rose petals, but it isn't until a monster comes for him that he begins to think this might be something else. The thing is big and an awful shiny black, and Peter can't run fast enough. The process of being brought into this place must be affecting the demon inside of him, for Paimon doesn't surface to protect him. Not even when Peter cries out his name in desperation, something he's so rarely done; the ancient demon that haunts Peter frightens him almost as much as the beast he faces now.
He's alone. He's alone and the thing has him cornered, and he thinks he's going to die.
And then someone β or something β else is there. Peter barely comprehends what's happening, only sees quick flashes of movement as the figure slashes a weapon at the beast, which crumples into ash. He sees a flicker of silver and they're gone, as quickly as they came, and the young man is left leaning weakly against the brick of a nearby building, panting against the panic that was swelling up in his chest, trying to talk himself down from it.
There's a thought through his horrified daze, and it makes a strange kind of sense. The rose petals. The beast... he's seen something similar to that before. And the silver eyes.
Ruby?
From there, Peter makes his way through this alternate version of the city, something that's even more of a hellscape than it usually is. Is Ruby... here? Was that her? Could he be in one of her memories? He doesn't know where to go, how to find her, what to do. So he just wanders, sticking close to buildings and moving slow and quiet. He keeps huddled down as short as he can, willing his six-foot frame and long limbs to take up as little space as possible, shuddering as he moves.
After a while of moving through the city, he catches movement up ahead and flinches, almost convulsively. Until he realises it's a person, and Peter's eyes go wide, heart pounding in his chest as he calls out. )
H-Hello?
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Qrow isn't above intimidating others now, if there's a pressing need for it, but most of the time his enemies are unhinged enough that there's little point in doing more than dispatching them as efficiently as he can. To see some kid afraid of him for no apparent reason settles uneasily within him.]
Chill out, kid, I don't bite. [A beat, then a shit-eating grin] Well, not most people, anyway.
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But there's something else. Maybe it is the scythe, but Peter does think, once again, of Ruby. And is reminded with a fresh bloom of confusion that this place seems to be connected to his friend somehow. It's a relief to bump into another person in all this bizareness, even if Peter's eyeing him nervously still, looking all tensed up. )
Man, I'm glad to see another person around. Do you uh... know what's going on?
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[He'd heard the siren, of course, though it hadn't quite clicked that there was anything particularly unusual happening at present. The fog, sure, but monsters coming in from other worlds wasn't entirely new, and he had not clocked the bottles or the rose petals as targeted, just yet.]
Do you mean the Grimm? [It's an educated guess, mostly] The town likes to bring in monsters from other worlds, sometimes. These ones are from mine.
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( And then there it is, laid out. Those monsters are from this guy's world, he says. Which means.... )
You're from Ruby's world?
( It's not such a strange concept; Peter knows there's a couple of people here that came from the same world as Ruby did. He's familiar with Oscar, and he's seen that Oz guy pop up on the network a couple of times, as well as helped fix up the house they all lived in. )
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Ruby? Yeah, we might be acquainted.
[Wait for it.]
She is my niece, after all.
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You're Uncle Qrow?
( Yes, Peter, that would be... the implication, here... But there's a new wave of relief now; if he's with Ruby's uncle, surely he must be safe now, right? )
She's a really good friend of mine. I uh, met her back in Deerington. ( He nods, for the immediate moment actually able to focus on this and not his terror of the situation around them. ) Were you there, too?
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[Thatsa-me, Qrowrio.]
Yeah, I was. She knew way too many people for these old bones to keep up with, though. You were at the wedding, right? I'm not sure I got your name.
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Yeah, I was there. I'm uh, Peter. Peter Graham. There used to be a lot more Peters around here, but.... I guess not so much, anymore. ( Used to be so many that he did have to clarify by last names. Is he the last Peter standing, now...? )
It's good to finally meet you. And bump into somebody who knows about those Grimm things. You guys' world sounds terrifying.
omg he's precious...
I'll let you in on a little secret, kiddo. [He half-whispers conspiratorially.] The Grimm aren't even the scariest thing, back there. Maybe not even top 5.
[Grimm just destroy mindlessly and turn to ash when you stab them enough. People, now that's the real bullshit.]
He has some Canon Sad Uncle Feelings ;~;
For now, though... he's casting a nervous glance back over his shoulder, hands rubbing against his own arms like he's cold, barely able to conceal the shudder that slips through him. )
No wonder she's so good at handling Trench. ( If Ruby β and her family β are used to a world like that... Trench must not be too surprising. )
Someone... saved me from one of them, just a few minutes ago. I thought it might be Ruby, but... I'm not sure. They disappeared too quick. I just saw silver eyes.
awww cuuute ;;
[On any given day, Qrow could simply choose to stay inside and mess around with his boyfriend and there will be no monsters that come for him. The main reason he still fights monsters at all is that he would climb the walls from boredom were he to be fully idle.
The mention of someone with silver eyes has him stiffen a little, though, and he's suddenly looking around them carefully. The only other living person he knows with silver eyes is Maria, but it is not as though the dead cannot come out of the sea. He doubts Ruby would simply protect her friend and then disappear from sight, though, so ..... hm.]
People born with silver eyes from our world are special. They have extra power against the Grimm, the kind that can turn even a massive one to stone with just a glance.
[But why would they have just left? And why are Grimm out here in the first place? He hasn't heard anything on the network about monsters leaking into Trench from other worlds again, nor seen anything like those tears in reality from last April. There's something to this coincidence that itches just under his skin, but he can't quite get his fingers around it just yet.]
In the meantime -- well, Harbinger's not quite the same level of flashy, but I like to think it's pretty cool, anyway. Which way is your place?
(no subject)
atmosphere/monsters
he bends to pick up a handful of burnt petals, pocketing them with a bit of curiosity alongside the dread. lying amongst them is a pistol - though he's not sure what kind of gun it is beyond that - he's not a gun person, not really, but he picks it up (because he's not a fighter, either, and he couldn't begin to fuck someone up with karate) and ...well, just kind of stares at it not knowing where to put it.
wait, what's that?
ah, he has a holster now. cool. he's got a gun pocket, but it's not like he can manifest skill, so he's still shit out of luck, there.
no, he's shit out of luck in a different way. because that's ...not friendly looking, and it's headed in his direction. his first impulse is to hide, and he ducks into an alleyway - smoke bursting from his chest as his omen speeds out and away in an attempt to distract the grimm. she's fast, and she's unafraid, but she's also very small.]
no subject
He does, however, get to experience all sorts of alarming sounds in full clarity, before the creature lets out one final shriek and then falls silent. Should Mike find it safe to peek out of the alley once quiet falls again, he won't see a monster corpse out there, as it has already crumbled into ash. Instead, there's only a scruffy middle-aged man with a massive scythe hoisted over his shoulder peering over at him.
The man gestures with a hand at the omen, which seems to be overall uninjured despite having pulled distraction duty for the first minute or so before his arrival.]
Gonna guess this is yours?
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by the time he steps out, delmira's there, looking no worse for wear - in fact, she looks relieved when her eyes meet mike's - before they look up toward the hero of the hour and answer the question before mike can.]
πππ¬! ππ‘ππ π’π¬ π¦π² ππ₯πππ©ππ«! π-π¨π‘.
[oh. so, the question was not meant for her, and that could be awkward, but delmira will just run toward her sleeper, to scurry up to his shoulder, watching qrow curiously.]
Good guess, but the rat's out of the bag. [a little pat to the omen's head, though mike's eyes stay fixed on the scythe. that's ...some weapon.] I'm gonna guess that [a gesture to the weapon] took care of...
[a quick search before his gaze lands on the ash. that's something, too. of course it would be ash. he needs to stop being surprised.]
What's---is that ...a scythe? Was that already yours? I ...found a gun, but I don't know shit about guns.
Maybe I should have picked up a bottle.
[implication: he knows more about those.]
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He does grin a little smugly as the man stares at his weapon, though.]
Yep, this is Harbinger. Designed it myself years ago.
[Harbinger is super cool and deserves all the appreciation, okay.
Good scythe best friend.]Much as being trashed might be more fun than dealing with this shit, though, tossing bottles at the Grimm isn't gonna do much more than piss 'em off. If you can't fight, stay behind me. I'll get you home.
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so ...that's one vote in favor of the bottle, though it isn't the way qrow might be thinking of it. wasn't the way he though of it initially either, but he's here now ...at that thought. it's also a solid plan.
well, maybe more of a backup plan.
it's easy enough to retrieve a bottle that's whole enough to do the job. it hasn't manifested anything flammable in it yet, but he's distracted by that weapon. and smug recognizes smug. it's a hell of a thing. he whistles in appreciation - that's some skill.]
How are they with fire?
[but he moves behind the man as he speaks.]
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Oh, you know, they're not a big fan. But unless you've got a whole lot of it, running's a better choice. Or, say, slicing off their heads, but I'm guessing that's not the most doable idea for you right about now.
[Like, could you burn a Grimm to death? 100%. But if that's not your Semblance and you don't have Fire Dust or some such on you, trying to is a waste of time you could be spending running away.]
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Running? Now that, I can do, no question. Question's only for how long.
[the karate training's coming in handy here, too. because a month ago? he would be in no shape to be sprinting. he's still not, but it's much better than where he started.]
You're the headunter here, pal. You go, I follow. And try not to get myself killed.
[another nod to that scythe. it's like something out of a movie.]
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Don't worry about that. If you're running and I stay back fighting, they'll come after me, not you. Long as you're not freaking out too hard, anyway. At a baseline, no real difference to them between my soul and yours, but they're drawn to negative emotions.
[A shrug, maybe a little too casual. Someone who's faced these things for too many years to be fazed by what he's saying any longer.]
So, which way we going?
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no, not yet. but it's there. it's a familiar tick.]
Over there?
[toward some larger buildings, one of which looks less ...rusted than the rest of them. it's weird. he suddenly feels as if all of this matters just a little less. is that good or bad? unsure just yet. delmira sniffs the air, whiskers twitching.]
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Alright, let's get moving, then. Faster the better.
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grim. ha. yeah, not the best time for a joke, but not the worst. he keeps the joke to himself, and any questions about the entity, too - beyond what he's already asked. he knows what he needs to know, that this is dangerous and he should move his ass out of their line of ...everything. if the bottle pickup earns him a look, he'll simply whisper backup plan, without much fanfare and keep moving.]
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En route, he shoots down a few Lancers, though shrieks in the distance warn of more creatures to come.]
Hoooow we doing over there? Just so we're on the same page, you're gonna need to warn me before you hit a 'can't keep running' point, or I'll have to carry you and I guarantee you'll hate it.
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