[It perhaps says something for all that Qrow has been through by now that none of these impossible things Break describes sound that impossible anymore. Timelines and existential nonsense with death and immortality and rifts between dimensions, and they're all squids now, somehow. He listens and waits and hopes for him, and then ... it happens.
It's a quiet, undramatic thing, when the darkness fades into dawn, apparently. Qrow lingers quietly some feet away, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Ah, the best laid plans...that window Qrow had come in through is still open, after all, and perhaps it is fate or a sentient house's sense of humor or even simply luck, but it turns out Qrow's cape isn't properly fastened today, and goes fluttering off in the breeze to land directly on said noodle's head.]
...Whoops. Lemme get that.
[How interesting that Qrow Branwen is a bird and wears a cape, huh.]
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It's a quiet, undramatic thing, when the darkness fades into dawn, apparently. Qrow lingers quietly some feet away, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Ah, the best laid plans...that window Qrow had come in through is still open, after all, and perhaps it is fate or a sentient house's sense of humor or even simply luck, but it turns out Qrow's cape isn't properly fastened today, and goes fluttering off in the breeze to land directly on said noodle's head.]
...Whoops. Lemme get that.
[How interesting that Qrow Branwen is a bird and wears a cape, huh.]