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Ford had learned his lesson last year. There will be no eating haunted chocolates this February. Or at least, there will be less eating haunted chocolates. Partly because it got him in trouble last time, but mostly because he's perusing chocolatiers for a reason this year: research.
Madam Generosity is no longer making demands that everyone indulge in the finer things, but he's elected to continue wearing his slightly fancier clothing from last month. It's still quite practical, though: coat, turtleneck, slacks, and shoes instead of boots. Just very nice ones, instead of the 'lovingly worn' to 'slightly tattered' gamut of quality that his clothing typically runs. But despite the indulgence he's on the move, taking rapid notes on the things he observes around him. He's not buying anything and alternates between blowing off and interrogating any shopkeepers that try to assist him. In other words, he looks and acts every inch the combination of anthropologist and wallflower that he actually is.
You'd think he'd learn to not try to write and walk at the same time considering how often it's lead to this exact situation: getting too absorbed in his work, rounding a corner to the next shop on his list, and nearly walking directly into someone else. He takes a startled step back and reaches out on reflex to steady whoever or whatever he just knocked over - and then he freezes, because that turns out to be Ozpin.
He's not expecting to bump into Ozpin, though it's less alarming than running into him has been in the past. He hasn't seen Ozpin since the wedding, which really isn't that dramatic of a gap for them. But he's still startled enough that while he means to say something like 'what a pleasant surprise' or 'I wasn't expecting to run into you' or 'hello, Ozpin', what he actually says is:
"What are you doing here?"
Because Ford is, of course, a much less unexpected sight outside of a chocolate shop.
Madam Generosity is no longer making demands that everyone indulge in the finer things, but he's elected to continue wearing his slightly fancier clothing from last month. It's still quite practical, though: coat, turtleneck, slacks, and shoes instead of boots. Just very nice ones, instead of the 'lovingly worn' to 'slightly tattered' gamut of quality that his clothing typically runs. But despite the indulgence he's on the move, taking rapid notes on the things he observes around him. He's not buying anything and alternates between blowing off and interrogating any shopkeepers that try to assist him. In other words, he looks and acts every inch the combination of anthropologist and wallflower that he actually is.
You'd think he'd learn to not try to write and walk at the same time considering how often it's lead to this exact situation: getting too absorbed in his work, rounding a corner to the next shop on his list, and nearly walking directly into someone else. He takes a startled step back and reaches out on reflex to steady whoever or whatever he just knocked over - and then he freezes, because that turns out to be Ozpin.
He's not expecting to bump into Ozpin, though it's less alarming than running into him has been in the past. He hasn't seen Ozpin since the wedding, which really isn't that dramatic of a gap for them. But he's still startled enough that while he means to say something like 'what a pleasant surprise' or 'I wasn't expecting to run into you' or 'hello, Ozpin', what he actually says is:
"What are you doing here?"
Because Ford is, of course, a much less unexpected sight outside of a chocolate shop.
Edited 2023-01-27 21:59 (UTC)
[Cold.
All he knew was that it was cold-- and, even though he grew up in a small island country that was renowned for it's poor weather, he didn't particularly like the cold.
Waver Velvet wanted nothing more than to hide in the back of the flying chariot that was an aspect of Zeus' power made manifest for the use of one of his many sons, with Iskandar's mantle flung over his shoulders while the King of Conquerors himself laughed and told stories with promises of drink, bloodshed, and untold glory. But--
Iskandar was dead.
Waver had witnessed his final ride.
With a shuddering breath, Waver snapped back to wakefulness in an unfamiliar space. This was neither Fuyuki nor his dorm room in London. This was somewhere else entirely, and his only clue that this wasn't entirely a dream was the faded remnants of the command spells on the back of his hand.
He sat up with a groan and hung his head.]
I don't know where I am, [he said to no one in particular, in a voice that was hoarse from disuse and heavy with the estuary accent from the shores of the river he grew up alongside.]
But I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to still be in Fuyuki.
All he knew was that it was cold-- and, even though he grew up in a small island country that was renowned for it's poor weather, he didn't particularly like the cold.
Waver Velvet wanted nothing more than to hide in the back of the flying chariot that was an aspect of Zeus' power made manifest for the use of one of his many sons, with Iskandar's mantle flung over his shoulders while the King of Conquerors himself laughed and told stories with promises of drink, bloodshed, and untold glory. But--
Iskandar was dead.
Waver had witnessed his final ride.
With a shuddering breath, Waver snapped back to wakefulness in an unfamiliar space. This was neither Fuyuki nor his dorm room in London. This was somewhere else entirely, and his only clue that this wasn't entirely a dream was the faded remnants of the command spells on the back of his hand.
He sat up with a groan and hung his head.]
I don't know where I am, [he said to no one in particular, in a voice that was hoarse from disuse and heavy with the estuary accent from the shores of the river he grew up alongside.]
But I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to still be in Fuyuki.
[ It's something in the seasons. Ozpin is resigned to it, by now; he is no worse than faintly irritated when he begins to recognize the signs of a change in himself, the restless pressure for company. He knows that it's needed. He knows he's not doing well.
He has, in truth, been avoiding his housemates. Willow will frown at him in that disapproving, unsettled way if she catches sight of the sharp edges to his teeth, the eerie predator's flash of his eyes in low lighting. Faith will look at him like she's cataloguing nearby weapons, even if there's a guilty tinge to it. It does no one any good.
And yet. Ozpin hovers at the fringes of common spaces, reading his book or sipping his cocoa with the door to the library left open. He chooses an armchair in the living room if Qrow is scrolling the network on the couch. He doesn't quite invite himself into anyone's space, nor anyone into his, but he lingers more and more like a cat hoping for attention.
He receives a questioning press from Oscar about it, here or there, but waves him off. The situation isn't dire enough to require intervention.
He will be fine. ]
He has, in truth, been avoiding his housemates. Willow will frown at him in that disapproving, unsettled way if she catches sight of the sharp edges to his teeth, the eerie predator's flash of his eyes in low lighting. Faith will look at him like she's cataloguing nearby weapons, even if there's a guilty tinge to it. It does no one any good.
And yet. Ozpin hovers at the fringes of common spaces, reading his book or sipping his cocoa with the door to the library left open. He chooses an armchair in the living room if Qrow is scrolling the network on the couch. He doesn't quite invite himself into anyone's space, nor anyone into his, but he lingers more and more like a cat hoping for attention.
He receives a questioning press from Oscar about it, here or there, but waves him off. The situation isn't dire enough to require intervention.
He will be fine. ]
[ It isn't often that Ozpin finds himself at the ocean, and rarer still that he pauses to help one of the newly returned. But the turning of the month has left him restless and uneasy, and he catches on each person he passes as though magnetized; there is an impulse, a source of growing frustration, to linger in the company of any friend of stranger on the shore.
What tipped his hand, in the end, is not something he cares to acknowledge: he can smell blood, which is a warning sign to be wary of. He's begun to grow... concerned... as to the possible allure of Darkblood, sweet and potent as it is. When he found a bedraggled and half-conscious young man who smelled familiarly of flowers, he knew this would be safest for them both.
And so: here they sit in a dull and drafty tent on the boardwalk, Ozpin sitting with his hands warmed around a mug of cocoa, another cooling slowly on a makeshift table for his guest. ]
I'm afraid that where you are now is a very long ways away.
[ The young man is familiar in some simpler manner, though it's not one Ozpin can quite place. He sets his cocoa aside and sits forward to regard Waver over his laced fingers. ]
It may take some time to adjust to wakefulness again. Please don't be too alarmed.
What tipped his hand, in the end, is not something he cares to acknowledge: he can smell blood, which is a warning sign to be wary of. He's begun to grow... concerned... as to the possible allure of Darkblood, sweet and potent as it is. When he found a bedraggled and half-conscious young man who smelled familiarly of flowers, he knew this would be safest for them both.
And so: here they sit in a dull and drafty tent on the boardwalk, Ozpin sitting with his hands warmed around a mug of cocoa, another cooling slowly on a makeshift table for his guest. ]
I'm afraid that where you are now is a very long ways away.
[ The young man is familiar in some simpler manner, though it's not one Ozpin can quite place. He sets his cocoa aside and sits forward to regard Waver over his laced fingers. ]
It may take some time to adjust to wakefulness again. Please don't be too alarmed.
[Perhaps it was the dark hair, straight as rain and parted down the middle that brushed against his chin, or eyes that were the same dusky green as the roiling ocean or impending tempest that narrowed with a multitude of insurance unspoken questions-- and the sharp tongue that came with it-- that Ozpin recognized. Waver Velvet took a single bleary look at Ozpin and within a split second half raised his emotional shields in alarm. He had no idea what he was specifically looking at, but he could tell that this person was neither ordinary human nor a Servant.
He hadn't expected this little aspect of being a Master for the will of the Holy Grail to still be in effect-- but he hadn't expected to survive through the end either. At first, he hadn't really given it a thought one way or another, and had come to not even care part way through. Waver had learned that he was just a small person amidst an actual battle between Kings. His wish to be seen and respected was nothing compared to the wish of a man that had ingloriously died at too young of an age to walk the world once more.
But, he had his orders.
Drawing the blanket tight around himself, he struggled to stand on unsteady feet.]
I've gotta get back to check on my grandparents,
[He said quickly, thinking of the Mackenzies and how they had seen through his hypnosis driven con. ]
Half the town's burning-- I've gotta make sure they're okay.
He hadn't expected this little aspect of being a Master for the will of the Holy Grail to still be in effect-- but he hadn't expected to survive through the end either. At first, he hadn't really given it a thought one way or another, and had come to not even care part way through. Waver had learned that he was just a small person amidst an actual battle between Kings. His wish to be seen and respected was nothing compared to the wish of a man that had ingloriously died at too young of an age to walk the world once more.
But, he had his orders.
Drawing the blanket tight around himself, he struggled to stand on unsteady feet.]
I've gotta get back to check on my grandparents,
[He said quickly, thinking of the Mackenzies and how they had seen through his hypnosis driven con. ]
Half the town's burning-- I've gotta make sure they're okay.
Edited 2023-01-31 14:17 (UTC)
[ Ah, dear. Ozpin leans forward, hands raised in a calming gesture, as the young man struggles upwards. His eyes— he is familiar, a name just out of reach. ]
The way back is not open to us. I'm sorry, but there is nothing to do now but focus on your own safety.
The way back is not open to us. I'm sorry, but there is nothing to do now but focus on your own safety.
Ozpin freezes in time with him, for more reasons than one. He is usually more careful than this in trying not to run too close across Stanford's path, lest the atmosphere remain dreadfully tense; it's a sharper and more startled response than he knows how to field with ease; and he is hungry.
He hasn't— he has been managing the worst effects of Corruption handily, these past months. He has indulged in the sort of gentle conversations with his housemates that are meant to be a balm. He has spent more and more time lighting incense and turning his thoughts to the peaceful white of the Moon Presence's flowers. He has not tasted a drop of blood.
And yet he craves it more direly than ever. The sharp lines of his canines are more pronounced than they've been in months, the predatory flash of his eyes always catching moonlight. He looks as gaunt and distracted as he did at the wedding— perhaps worse.
The scent of Darkblood is always a possible distraction. In the context of Stanford, standing close enough to touch... better he not risk discomfort for the both of them.
Except that, as he steps away and begins to form a mild excuse, all the air seems to go out of the room.
He hasn't— he has been managing the worst effects of Corruption handily, these past months. He has indulged in the sort of gentle conversations with his housemates that are meant to be a balm. He has spent more and more time lighting incense and turning his thoughts to the peaceful white of the Moon Presence's flowers. He has not tasted a drop of blood.
And yet he craves it more direly than ever. The sharp lines of his canines are more pronounced than they've been in months, the predatory flash of his eyes always catching moonlight. He looks as gaunt and distracted as he did at the wedding— perhaps worse.
The scent of Darkblood is always a possible distraction. In the context of Stanford, standing close enough to touch... better he not risk discomfort for the both of them.
Except that, as he steps away and begins to form a mild excuse, all the air seems to go out of the room.
-- I'm alone in a strange place without a wallet, a passport, or a cellphone. That's not very safe.
[He grumbled, glowering at the man who had legs that went on for miles. Waver was almost certain this man was close to Iskandar's height, but not his presence. Waver held his blanket tightly for a second, glad that the folds hid his shaking knees, and quickly flopped back down into the cushions.
He glanced at the cocoa and was tempted to take a sip-- but he didn't feel like being poisoned right away.
Instead of reaching out to take the cocoa, he let out a frustrated scoff.]
I just-- I just wanna sleep for a week. Maybe see a little of Japan. Maybe quit school and go to Greece. I don't know!
[The thoughts and ideas came to him at a rapid pace, each more nonsensical than before. Waver just spat the words out in his internal disarray, each one releasing a little bit of the panic that was bubbling in the core of his soul.
It had only been a short while since he had received his orders from Iskandar, to live and bear witness. The time that had passed since he had stood his ground before the gilded King of Babylonia was even shorter. Iskandar's war cry still echoed in his bones--
He wanted to run. He wanted to cry and scream. He wanted--]
I want Gray.
[The words popped out unbidden. They made no sense to him, but he felt the shift in his internal systems as keenly as he had felt the leylines of Fuyuki tremble along with his own heart beat when Iskandar has stepped from the summoning circle.
The tension that strung out his nerves finally snapped, and a cold gust of wind popped a small black cat from the ether and into his lap.
The cat looked up at the both of them, her pale green eyes cautious but open hearted. She carried a letter in her mouth.
Waver was at a loss for words. He had never owned a cat, and didn't know the first thing about cat ownership.]
W-what?
[He sputtered-- and was stunned into silence when she jumped off of his lap and padded over the short distance to Ozpin. Very politely for a cat, she laid the letter down at his feet with a meaningful look before returning to the boy]
[He grumbled, glowering at the man who had legs that went on for miles. Waver was almost certain this man was close to Iskandar's height, but not his presence. Waver held his blanket tightly for a second, glad that the folds hid his shaking knees, and quickly flopped back down into the cushions.
He glanced at the cocoa and was tempted to take a sip-- but he didn't feel like being poisoned right away.
Instead of reaching out to take the cocoa, he let out a frustrated scoff.]
I just-- I just wanna sleep for a week. Maybe see a little of Japan. Maybe quit school and go to Greece. I don't know!
[The thoughts and ideas came to him at a rapid pace, each more nonsensical than before. Waver just spat the words out in his internal disarray, each one releasing a little bit of the panic that was bubbling in the core of his soul.
It had only been a short while since he had received his orders from Iskandar, to live and bear witness. The time that had passed since he had stood his ground before the gilded King of Babylonia was even shorter. Iskandar's war cry still echoed in his bones--
He wanted to run. He wanted to cry and scream. He wanted--]
I want Gray.
[The words popped out unbidden. They made no sense to him, but he felt the shift in his internal systems as keenly as he had felt the leylines of Fuyuki tremble along with his own heart beat when Iskandar has stepped from the summoning circle.
The tension that strung out his nerves finally snapped, and a cold gust of wind popped a small black cat from the ether and into his lap.
The cat looked up at the both of them, her pale green eyes cautious but open hearted. She carried a letter in her mouth.
Waver was at a loss for words. He had never owned a cat, and didn't know the first thing about cat ownership.]
W-what?
[He sputtered-- and was stunned into silence when she jumped off of his lap and padded over the short distance to Ozpin. Very politely for a cat, she laid the letter down at his feet with a meaningful look before returning to the boy]
[ These are all the reasonable but ultimately meaningless concerns of a new Sleeper, and Ozpin tips his head in sympathy. He is lifting his hands again to gesture, comforting as he can be, when the cat arrives.
Ozpin startles, blinks down at her, and realizes what he's looking at. She's an Omen; she's a familiar Omen. It's been some time since he watched her at the heel of a tall, slim man with the same stern little frown. ]
Ah. [ He warms to a smile, understanding. Ozpin crouches to take up the letter, and very calmly thumbs it open. ] You might think of her as a protector, of sorts... and a companion. Let's see what she has to share with us.
Ozpin startles, blinks down at her, and realizes what he's looking at. She's an Omen; she's a familiar Omen. It's been some time since he watched her at the heel of a tall, slim man with the same stern little frown. ]
Ah. [ He warms to a smile, understanding. Ozpin crouches to take up the letter, and very calmly thumbs it open. ] You might think of her as a protector, of sorts... and a companion. Let's see what she has to share with us.
I'm not worried about the cat!
[Waver snapped while said cat hopped up onto his shoulder and stuck her little nose in his ear, whispering earnestly to him while he acted like a surprised little fool for the first several moments.
Ozpin's letter, meanwhile, was written out in the same tight and neat cursive that he would certainly have seen before in various data and information exchanges. The text:]
Ozpin,
If Gray handed you this note, then you are almost certainly in the company of a younger version of myself. This is either the result of Madame Generosity, Bausphomette, or perhaps even my own death. My situation is complex, but the simple explanation is that I was under the influence of a curse that changed my appearance when I first washed up on Trench's shores. I don't doubt that it will manifest its own effects as it continues to interact with the blood magic and the Pthumerians' whims.
Please, I ask that you extend support and patience his way, especially if the Younger Me is speaking of matters related to wars, death, and Japan. I was nineteen and a fool that didn't have a good mentor until it was too late. He is going to be mouthy and bitter. That's expected, he hasn't had time yet to heal.
If he seems a little older than that, you may have some better luck getting through to him.
Thank you in advance, and apologies for any headaches you may suffer over this. I'll explain matters when I return.
- LEMII
[Waver snapped while said cat hopped up onto his shoulder and stuck her little nose in his ear, whispering earnestly to him while he acted like a surprised little fool for the first several moments.
Ozpin's letter, meanwhile, was written out in the same tight and neat cursive that he would certainly have seen before in various data and information exchanges. The text:]
Ozpin,
If Gray handed you this note, then you are almost certainly in the company of a younger version of myself. This is either the result of Madame Generosity, Bausphomette, or perhaps even my own death. My situation is complex, but the simple explanation is that I was under the influence of a curse that changed my appearance when I first washed up on Trench's shores. I don't doubt that it will manifest its own effects as it continues to interact with the blood magic and the Pthumerians' whims.
Please, I ask that you extend support and patience his way, especially if the Younger Me is speaking of matters related to wars, death, and Japan. I was nineteen and a fool that didn't have a good mentor until it was too late. He is going to be mouthy and bitter. That's expected, he hasn't had time yet to heal.
If he seems a little older than that, you may have some better luck getting through to him.
Thank you in advance, and apologies for any headaches you may suffer over this. I'll explain matters when I return.
- LEMII
[ Well. That certainly does answer some questions, though not in any way Ozpin might describe as convenient. He breathes a slow sigh, folds the letter again, and returns it to his pocket. Then he leans in and regards the young man over his laced fingers once again.
Nineteen, then. ]
It seems you may be here for some time, Mister...?
[ He knows, of course, but it wouldn't do to say too much too quickly. If there is anything Ozpin is immensely comfortable doing, it's parsing out difficult truths slowly enough that they might be well-received. (Or more slowly still.) ]
Nineteen, then. ]
It seems you may be here for some time, Mister...?
[ He knows, of course, but it wouldn't do to say too much too quickly. If there is anything Ozpin is immensely comfortable doing, it's parsing out difficult truths slowly enough that they might be well-received. (Or more slowly still.) ]
Waver Velvet.
[He said glumly, making a face as he held the cat out at arm's length. The whole situation was befuddling, and he found himself growing more and more frustrated by the moment. None of this made sense-- not even the talking cat that had spoken in a quiet, feminine voice and whispered reassurances about how he was in good company with this strange, white haired man.
If not for the obvious masculinity and the aura of power he could sense from the man, Waver would have written this off as a fever dream about that Homunculus he had crossed paths with during his stay in Fuyuki. She, too, had radiated power. But, the stamp of the Einzburn clan was all over her magecrafting, and only a fool would try to pick a fight with one of the four families that founded the Holy Grail rituals in Fuyuki.]
-- what's it matter to a spellcaster that's broken all the basic rules? What are you-- a Ghost Liner? Or, maybe you're related to that clan in Spain that's been working on something unspeakable for centuries?
[Waver knew that the answer was none of these. The truth was: he had no idea what he was looking at-- and it scared him.]
[He said glumly, making a face as he held the cat out at arm's length. The whole situation was befuddling, and he found himself growing more and more frustrated by the moment. None of this made sense-- not even the talking cat that had spoken in a quiet, feminine voice and whispered reassurances about how he was in good company with this strange, white haired man.
If not for the obvious masculinity and the aura of power he could sense from the man, Waver would have written this off as a fever dream about that Homunculus he had crossed paths with during his stay in Fuyuki. She, too, had radiated power. But, the stamp of the Einzburn clan was all over her magecrafting, and only a fool would try to pick a fight with one of the four families that founded the Holy Grail rituals in Fuyuki.]
-- what's it matter to a spellcaster that's broken all the basic rules? What are you-- a Ghost Liner? Or, maybe you're related to that clan in Spain that's been working on something unspeakable for centuries?
[Waver knew that the answer was none of these. The truth was: he had no idea what he was looking at-- and it scared him.]
Edited 2023-01-31 22:49 (UTC)
[Qrow doesn't quite notice, at first. Since the wedding, he tends to split his time between the rebuilt Clockhouse, Ruby and Ange's place, and Break's. He chats casually with people as he crosses paths with them, sometimes invites them to watch a movie together, and sometimes just naps comfortably -- which isn't nothing, for him; he would never allow himself to sleep in the presence of anyone he didn't fully trust with his life, after all.
He begins to catch on after some time, though, as he starts to bump into Oz more and more in the common spaces rather than his private study or room, or in the kitchen making tea. One afternoon, when he finds Oz settling down with a book in the armchair next to the couch early in the afternoon, he starts to think that maybe this is his way of asking for company. They've spent a year and a half in comfortable retirement in Trench, after all; it makes sense that eventually even Oz might start to get a little bored of his freedom from an unwinnable war.
He stands up, intending to call out and offer an invitation -- to go outside for a spar, maybe some lunch afterward, but the words never make it out of his throat. Nothing does, in fact, and there's a moment of sudden and profound terror in his eyes as he discovers he doesn't have any air before the world seems to pitch sideways.
The paleblood in his veins manages to project a single distressed thought from several feet away: what the fuck? A last-ditch emergency alarm to grab Ozpin's attention before everything threatens to go dark.]
He begins to catch on after some time, though, as he starts to bump into Oz more and more in the common spaces rather than his private study or room, or in the kitchen making tea. One afternoon, when he finds Oz settling down with a book in the armchair next to the couch early in the afternoon, he starts to think that maybe this is his way of asking for company. They've spent a year and a half in comfortable retirement in Trench, after all; it makes sense that eventually even Oz might start to get a little bored of his freedom from an unwinnable war.
He stands up, intending to call out and offer an invitation -- to go outside for a spar, maybe some lunch afterward, but the words never make it out of his throat. Nothing does, in fact, and there's a moment of sudden and profound terror in his eyes as he discovers he doesn't have any air before the world seems to pitch sideways.
The paleblood in his veins manages to project a single distressed thought from several feet away: what the fuck? A last-ditch emergency alarm to grab Ozpin's attention before everything threatens to go dark.]
[ Ozpin is profoundly unfamiliar with either a Ghost Liner or Spain, though he's certain he's heard of the latter. From Stanford, maybe. It seems Remnant has left him unprepared for the most common worlds he crosses paths with here.
His smile is patient, nearly indulgent, all the same. ]
My name is Ozpin, and I am none of those things. Only a man with an interest in magic. I imagine I could be of help in getting you situated here in the city, for the time being.
Please, enjoy the cocoa. If you're hungry, there is warm food to eat. I arrived in the same manner you did, and it took some time for the disorientation to pass.
His smile is patient, nearly indulgent, all the same. ]
My name is Ozpin, and I am none of those things. Only a man with an interest in magic. I imagine I could be of help in getting you situated here in the city, for the time being.
Please, enjoy the cocoa. If you're hungry, there is warm food to eat. I arrived in the same manner you did, and it took some time for the disorientation to pass.
[ Ozpin, for his part, has gone frozen where he sits. He is within arm's reach, but blind to everything but the sudden urgency in his throat and chest. It's only when he catches the flash of emotion from Qrow, clear as Oscar's presence in his mind but viscerally foreign, that he starts up to his feet. His vision speckles black, and he staggers the one step forward.
When Ozpin's hand closes upon Qrow's shoulder, reflexive in distress, breath rushes back to them. ]
When Ozpin's hand closes upon Qrow's shoulder, reflexive in distress, breath rushes back to them. ]
[The calm aura that Ozpin carried himself with only proceeded to make Waver feel like a fool and an idiot. He wasn't either-- and yet he was both. He was little more than a tiny speck on a map of the world, and for a moment he felt that small. Bundling the blankets up in his arms, he cast a concerned glance at the cat that had declared herself to be an extension of his soul.
He didn't know what was realistic or even possible anymore.
Reaching out, he pouted over the cocoa as he took a sip. The warmth of it was steadying and familiar. Despite himself, he drank more deeply from the cup after the initial taste. His stomach felt like it was squeezed tight, but he had no idea if that feeling was hunger or anxiety. ]
I've never had a cat before. Never a talking one, either. But, she seems to think that you're okay to trust....
[Waver still had no idea. Every one of his senses, still sensitized by somehow surviving the Holy Grail War and all of the traumas that came with it, alerted him to the fact that this man was a possible danger. The fact that he was 'interested in magic' only made the danger somewhat more familiar.]
He didn't know what was realistic or even possible anymore.
Reaching out, he pouted over the cocoa as he took a sip. The warmth of it was steadying and familiar. Despite himself, he drank more deeply from the cup after the initial taste. His stomach felt like it was squeezed tight, but he had no idea if that feeling was hunger or anxiety. ]
I've never had a cat before. Never a talking one, either. But, she seems to think that you're okay to trust....
[Waver still had no idea. Every one of his senses, still sensitized by somehow surviving the Holy Grail War and all of the traumas that came with it, alerted him to the fact that this man was a possible danger. The fact that he was 'interested in magic' only made the danger somewhat more familiar.]
She is your Omen: a magical being who will always act in your best interest.
[ Ozpin settles in with his cocoa. Despite the situation, he is relieved to be faced with a task he knows well. ]
All those who have been brought here are able to summon one. We are known here as Sleepers, as though this world is a dream we share... or as though we have awakened from the dreams of our stories.
[ Ozpin settles in with his cocoa. Despite the situation, he is relieved to be faced with a task he knows well. ]
All those who have been brought here are able to summon one. We are known here as Sleepers, as though this world is a dream we share... or as though we have awakened from the dreams of our stories.
[ Ozpin's expression is rarely so unguarded, but here he shifts from alarm to dawning realization— and irritation. It is, as always, another trial. He much preferred when the dangers of the city stayed out in the streets. ]
In a sense, yes. [ He's still breathless. ] And yet, in another... I imagine this is more of the same.
[ He accepts Qrow's weight on him with a slow, catching sigh. It is a relief to have the itch for contact alleviated, and to breathe easily, but the proximity is not comfortable in all ways: Paleblood smells to him now as a floral wine. ]
In a sense, yes. [ He's still breathless. ] And yet, in another... I imagine this is more of the same.
[ He accepts Qrow's weight on him with a slow, catching sigh. It is a relief to have the itch for contact alleviated, and to breathe easily, but the proximity is not comfortable in all ways: Paleblood smells to him now as a floral wine. ]
This remix is the worst one yet.
[He thinks he might hate this one more than the heart strings curse from last year, and that made him feel as though he was on fire twice. He sighs.]
You got any idea what Doorway wants this time? Far as I know, we don't have any unaddressed issues right now, unless you've got something to tell me.
[He says it like a joke, though at the back of his mind -- he's very vaguely aware that's not entirely an honest assessment. The last time they'd tried to talk about something important, Oz clammed up when the conversation got too vulnerable, and Qrow had let him have the distance.
More accurately--there's no issues Qrow's directly willing to call him on, right now.]
[He thinks he might hate this one more than the heart strings curse from last year, and that made him feel as though he was on fire twice. He sighs.]
You got any idea what Doorway wants this time? Far as I know, we don't have any unaddressed issues right now, unless you've got something to tell me.
[He says it like a joke, though at the back of his mind -- he's very vaguely aware that's not entirely an honest assessment. The last time they'd tried to talk about something important, Oz clammed up when the conversation got too vulnerable, and Qrow had let him have the distance.
More accurately--there's no issues Qrow's directly willing to call him on, right now.]
Yeah. Gray told me all that while you were reading.
[He pouted-- an expression that actually suited his face quite well-- and pondered over his cocoa some more. ]
...I know you're not a regular human, [Waver said finally, the frown never leaving his face.] So. why should I trust you when the last non-regular human that I met asked me point blank why I wasn't going to fight him even though it was obvious he was gonna win?
[He pouted-- an expression that actually suited his face quite well-- and pondered over his cocoa some more. ]
...I know you're not a regular human, [Waver said finally, the frown never leaving his face.] So. why should I trust you when the last non-regular human that I met asked me point blank why I wasn't going to fight him even though it was obvious he was gonna win?
[ This catches him off-guard.
For a moment, Ozpin simply blinks at him, wrong-footed at the matter-of-fact accusation. Then he smooths it over again, sips his cocoa to buy himself time in formulating an explanation. There is a moment's tense silence as he sets the mug back down. ]
In a place such as this, we all need allies. To act alone would mean to find yourself in avoidable peril rather quickly, but to forge bonds with others can mean not only survival, but the chance to thrive even in so inhospitable a landscape. [ He smiles. ] And I suppose you remind me of a friend.
For a moment, Ozpin simply blinks at him, wrong-footed at the matter-of-fact accusation. Then he smooths it over again, sips his cocoa to buy himself time in formulating an explanation. There is a moment's tense silence as he sets the mug back down. ]
In a place such as this, we all need allies. To act alone would mean to find yourself in avoidable peril rather quickly, but to forge bonds with others can mean not only survival, but the chance to thrive even in so inhospitable a landscape. [ He smiles. ] And I suppose you remind me of a friend.
[ Ah. Well. It would be difficult for Ozpin to disguise his sudden hesitation; Qrow's shoulder is pressed to his, and so the other man will feel the tension in him. The silence hangs heavy and awkward for a beat between them. ]
Nothing pressing, to be sure. And yet it appears we are being steered towards some end.
[ It is not truly difficult to drum up a list of topics not fully unpacked. He has been less than forthcoming in true company or difficult conversation, as of late. Perhaps the Doorway saw fit to apply pressure. ]
If nothing else, [ with his careful tone telegraphing discomfort to anyone who knows him well, ] touch and conversation are meant to be methods of... alleviating Corruption.
[ Not that his circumstances are dire. It's wholly under control. ]
Nothing pressing, to be sure. And yet it appears we are being steered towards some end.
[ It is not truly difficult to drum up a list of topics not fully unpacked. He has been less than forthcoming in true company or difficult conversation, as of late. Perhaps the Doorway saw fit to apply pressure. ]
If nothing else, [ with his careful tone telegraphing discomfort to anyone who knows him well, ] touch and conversation are meant to be methods of... alleviating Corruption.
[ Not that his circumstances are dire. It's wholly under control. ]
[Qrow feels Oz tense against his shoulder, and the levity in his expression slowly fades. He doesn't pull away, but he shifts just enough to try to look his mentor in the eye.]
Oz...don't.
[He doesn't manage to fully verbalize that don't, but there's a pained note in it, almost pleading. They have worked so hard to rebuild this trust, and now Oz is radiating something to hide.]
You know these curses don't want smalltalk.
Oz...don't.
[He doesn't manage to fully verbalize that don't, but there's a pained note in it, almost pleading. They have worked so hard to rebuild this trust, and now Oz is radiating something to hide.]
You know these curses don't want smalltalk.
I suppose not.
[ He looks away. For a moment, the silence is frozen and tense, nothing but the slight shift of cloth where their shoulders touch and the still-unsteady rate of their breathing. ]
It's... cyclical, in a way. Just as we enjoy periods of peace between such trials, there are long stretches of respite before Corruption builds to a breaking point. [ He tests the edge of a sharpened canine against his lip, ever so slightly. ] Perhaps I should have recognized the signs.
[ Whether he means chaos or Corruption is unclear; it's both. ]
[ He looks away. For a moment, the silence is frozen and tense, nothing but the slight shift of cloth where their shoulders touch and the still-unsteady rate of their breathing. ]
It's... cyclical, in a way. Just as we enjoy periods of peace between such trials, there are long stretches of respite before Corruption builds to a breaking point. [ He tests the edge of a sharpened canine against his lip, ever so slightly. ] Perhaps I should have recognized the signs.
[ Whether he means chaos or Corruption is unclear; it's both. ]
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