o2 . autumn catchall

[clocktowers]

Who: clocktowers and CR.
What: A catch-all log.
When: October / November
Where: Trench

Content Warnings: Tagged in subject lines as needed.

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[clocktowers]

[ He hears the aborted joke and cannot quite be grateful it isn't said; he is too keenly aware of the empty space it leaves. He is too tired to say anything at all.

Ozpin remains silent as they stagger home. He remains conscious all through it, which means the situation is better than it might be, but also that he must endure the long trip back. Even this sliver of stability couldn't be managed without all he'd done to Stanford, he knows. He'd had very little choice. They'd both had very little choice.

Now it feels that he's backed even Qrow into this; as though they are all simply running through the motions required of them by Deerington (Trench, but what is the difference?). They are each trapped by need and circumstance. He is so very tired.

When they reach the grand doors of the manor, Ozpin takes his own weight long enough to lean against the doorjamb so that Qrow can let them in. ]

A bit of rest and I will be alright.

[ Perhaps if he says it enough times, he will think it true. ]

[bolstafir]

[The silence feels almost impossibly heavy. Qrow is not someone who tends to feel the need to fill empty air with words, who finds companionable silence to be comforting more often than not. But the silence on this walk is stifling, leaving Qrow with only a lingering undefined guilt over not getting there sooner as Oz dwells on what horrors he faced in there. He doesn't as Oz if he wants to talk about it; he knows from experience that it would be akin to asking if the man would like to take a bath in a tub of salt water right now, and Qrow knows if their positions were reversed, he'd feel the same way.]

'Course you will.

[The reassurance hits strangely, like another echo of the last time they did this. When Ozpin returned from being tortured by Salem and promptly got lost in a blizzard to fetch Oscar. But of course he'll be fine, right? This isn't so bad that Aura couldn't fix it in a couple days, right...? Oz was more seriously wounded back then, after all.

He tries not to let the anxiety show. Of course Oz will be fine. He's Oz.

(He is only a man.)

Qrow pauses once they're inside, unsure whether to head for the stairs or stop at the couches in the living room.]

You wanna go up to your room, or take a break here first?

[clocktowers]

[ Oz pauses for only a beat, a tiny hesitation, before he steels himself. ]

Better to make it all the way upstairs, I think. Let's continue.

[ He now thinks it unlikely that he'll run himself so ragged he passes out on the stairs. Before Stanford, he would not have survived even long enough to escape that holding floor. Without the zealot that tried to drag them back...

Well. Better not to dwell on any of it: not what could have happened, or the entirely different horror that did. All he truly wants now is to rest and think of something else entirely. ]

The others are safe, I trust?

[ It's his first real attempt at conversation, and plainly meant to distract. ]

[bolstafir]

Yeah. Everyone here's good.

[He is glad Ruby and Ange have already long-since gotten through their ordeal. All three of them absent from the house at once would've been entirely too much.

He's aware of the deflection inherent in this shift in conversation, but Qrow is inclined to let him have it. If their roles were reversed, what he had just escaped would be the last thing he would want to talk about, too. Instead, he shifts to take more of Ozpin's weight as they approach the first step.]

Alright, up we go. Hang on tight.

[He's not sure if he ought to finish this as quickly as possible, like ripping off a bandaid, or if slow and steady is better for climbing up a staircase, which, he knows from experience, is roughly torture when you're injured. He splits the difference and starts climbing briskly, but he's paying close attention to Oz's reactions, and he always pauses briefly if Oz makes a noise of pain or squeezes tighter against his shoulders at any point.]

Y'know, Ruby was joking when she said it, but one of those stairlift things really would be useful for when we get hurt around here.

[This one, too, is perhaps a bit of a strained joke, but less so because it's a painful joke to make this time and more because of the whole bunch of not talking they're doing about the blood-soaked elephant in the room.]

[clocktowers]

I do prefer to cling to some scrap of dignity.

[ He can manage it. The facility had been nothing but staircases, too, and those had been vastly worse: hot and loud and hurried, with the knowledge that danger might be upon them at any moment. Here, they have the grace of a cool and quiet house.

He still feels as though they are rabbits just barely into their warren, surrounded by wolves. Snakes, possibly. He doesn't know whether the zealots might be able to find and retrieve them from indoors; he does not know what they're up against.

He'd not realized how much he'd come to feel safe here. ]

Though we'll see how I might be swayed by a few more months like this one.

[ He did not mean it to sound so bleak, but the tone is clear: this feels like a cycle starting up again. It feels very much like Deerington. ]

[bolstafir]

[Perhaps Qrow has something of an advantage here; the nature of his semblance is such that Qrow has never truly felt entirely safe anywhere, not even within his own skin. He grew up among survivalists and learned to fear death, and then his time at Beacon taught him to fear loss. Even at his most comfortable, there is a part of Qrow that always expects the worst. In perhaps a cruel irony, Ozpin had been the first taste of the idea of safety, for him; he was a young and hungry thing, when they had met, craving support and stability. Oz had a way of making people believe everything was going to be alright.

It doesn't escape him that he's been doing the same even now, half-slumped against Qrow's shoulders with half dried green stains all over, nor that his own attempt to lighten the mood has overall failed. Qrow is well aware that he is not like Ozpin -- his edges are too rough, demeanor and words unpolished, lacking the smooth honey quality to his voice that puts people at ease. Qrow does not so much wish for the talent as keenly feel its lack; it is not that day in the snow, but there is a chill in his spine all the same with the bleakness of Ozpin's tone. He is not alright, and there is precious little Qrow can do about it except hope that space to rest and recover will help.

He doesn't answer. The rest of the walk to Ozpin's room is oppressively silent with that realization. At length, upon reaching the doorway:]

You wanna sleep now, or go get changed first?

[clocktowers]

[ Qrow does not pry, and Ozpin does not offer anything more. It is quiet as they walk, nothing but Ozpin's footsteps and the marked absence of his cane. It feels like the loss of a limb; it always does. When he finally steadies himself free of Qrow's shoulders, one bloodied palm pressed to the doorjamb, Ozpin breathes deep and rattles a sigh.

This heavy quiet between them is not a comfortable silence, but it is one that he can trust. ]

I do think I can take it from here. [ He smiles, wry and tired and not terribly convincing. It's an attempt all the same. He knows how frightening it would be if he did not at least make that effort. ] Any more complex cleaning up can be done after a bit of rest. Thank you, Qrow. I will let you know once I'm feeling a bit steadier on my feet.

[ I will let you know once I'm alright is a concept composed entirely of optimism and white lies. But the most acute danger has passed; lingering and talking it over will do them little good; and he has a great deal to think about. I'm alright have always been easy words to say. ]

[bolstafir]

[He is struck by an echo of that last time he'd carried Oz home to safety; Ozpin had told him the truth about new developments in Remnant, and proceeded then to reassure him about it when that news had brought with it the weight of anxiety. Qrow had said to Oz, then, that it was no longer his job to make him feel safe.

We've no cause to feel safe, he'd answered, but we do have reason to hope. It's good to remind ourselves of that.

Qrow nods, his own expression too drawn with concern to really smile either, but he makes the attempt back in recognition of that memory. It is not in Qrow's nature to expect things will turn out alright, but Oz had been the first to teach him about hope. It has carried him through the last twenty years, and it was what drew him out of the dark when all felt as though it had been lost. To hope against the hopeless had been Ozpin's signature for thousands of years, and so he takes that in the spirit it's offered. And truly, he does hope it is not so bad as all that. This is, after all, their second chance. They may not be safe, but they are together, and there is no apocalypse that looms over their heads in devastating obligation.]

Let me know if you need anything. I'll be right down the hall.

[Very deliberately, he does not look over his shoulder as he steps away, steeling himself with those hopes.]