[It probably says a lot about how quickly Break has grown accustomed to the general nonsense of Trench -- how well suited he himself is for the nonsense? -- that as December draws to a close, he finds that it doesn't feel as terrible as November did. When he sits and examines the situation, this does not make a lick of sense. In November, Break had the grand luck to avoid getting hauled off to a horrific organ-harvesting farm, and instead went on a happy and productive mushroom bender. In December, more than one person in his solidifying social circle was directly involved in a mercy kill over advanced corruption, he wound up in other people's memories and had others in his own more than once, Oz fled for the hills, he wound up carrying a bad luck charm around with him unknowingly and messing up who knows what for days, a case of lockjoint he still can't shake hit him and his bouts of nerves and paranoia have been worse than he can remember for literal years.
No sense at all. Except that he can see again, and doesn't feel quite so set apart from the world itself. And there are people he cares enough about to check in on outside of his own immediate household now. Nerves, sure, but nothing that ever actually has him trapped in a blanketfort. Is that really all he needs...?
Qrow Branwen in particular has become an even more frequent presence, one that Break is increasingly grateful for. What began as an alliance of sorts between two people with similar experience and priorities is deepening at a rapid rate, at least on Break's end, as he discovers in Qrow the sort of stability that compliments his own personality best. For all that the other man likes to pass himself off as careless and curmudgeonly, whenever Break needs him he somehow turns up, and whatever problems Break winds up dumping on him are met with an attentive thoughtfulness that so far hasn't failed to bring him back around from whatever fit of emotion he's having. The more Break learns about him, the more he finds reason to respect him, and on top of that he even enjoys Qrow's company. Only four months, and this "alliance" is already starting to slither dangerously close to becoming the f-word.
This, of course, is gross. But it only emphasizes the fact that Qrow is clearly too valuable a person to neglect, and so despite the month's various lunacies -- because of them, maybe -- Break makes it a point to perform the social equivalent of staying on top of filling the birdfeeder. Last month, he failed to keep up with Qrow, and was mortified when Qrow turned up to check on him first and immediately proceeded to help him sort out his damned eyesight, of all things. This month, invitations to lunches and assorted excursions are frequent, and a welcome reprieve from December's nerve-wracking nonsense. The last one for the year is sedate and cozy, as Break invites Qrow directly to the house instead of out to a restaurant; he's perfected scalloped potatoes to his satisfaction and wants to show off, and also, it's cold and nasty outside and staying in with comfort food and, perhaps later, a movie sounds like just the thing after the whirlwind of December. He's made sure the stupid bad luck charm is locked in the basement where it can't bother anybody and has carefully cleared all of Alice's winter mournings that he can find out of the relevant places, and everything is genial and pleasant until a drinking glass falls off the counter and shatters into shards that go skittering across the floor. Break jumps visibly at the noise, which is the last thing you want to be doing when there is glass everywhere and you have forgone shoes in favor of your favorite cozy socks.]
Closed to Qrow: Children of Misfortune
No sense at all. Except that he can see again, and doesn't feel quite so set apart from the world itself. And there are people he cares enough about to check in on outside of his own immediate household now. Nerves, sure, but nothing that ever actually has him trapped in a blanketfort. Is that really all he needs...?
Qrow Branwen in particular has become an even more frequent presence, one that Break is increasingly grateful for. What began as an alliance of sorts between two people with similar experience and priorities is deepening at a rapid rate, at least on Break's end, as he discovers in Qrow the sort of stability that compliments his own personality best. For all that the other man likes to pass himself off as careless and curmudgeonly, whenever Break needs him he somehow turns up, and whatever problems Break winds up dumping on him are met with an attentive thoughtfulness that so far hasn't failed to bring him back around from whatever fit of emotion he's having. The more Break learns about him, the more he finds reason to respect him, and on top of that he even enjoys Qrow's company. Only four months, and this "alliance" is already starting to slither dangerously close to becoming the f-word.
This, of course, is gross. But it only emphasizes the fact that Qrow is clearly too valuable a person to neglect, and so despite the month's various lunacies -- because of them, maybe -- Break makes it a point to perform the social equivalent of staying on top of filling the birdfeeder. Last month, he failed to keep up with Qrow, and was mortified when Qrow turned up to check on him first and immediately proceeded to help him sort out his damned eyesight, of all things. This month, invitations to lunches and assorted excursions are frequent, and a welcome reprieve from December's nerve-wracking nonsense. The last one for the year is sedate and cozy, as Break invites Qrow directly to the house instead of out to a restaurant; he's perfected scalloped potatoes to his satisfaction and wants to show off, and also, it's cold and nasty outside and staying in with comfort food and, perhaps later, a movie sounds like just the thing after the whirlwind of December. He's made sure the stupid bad luck charm is locked in the basement where it can't bother anybody and has carefully cleared all of Alice's winter mournings that he can find out of the relevant places, and everything is genial and pleasant until a drinking glass falls off the counter and shatters into shards that go skittering across the floor. Break jumps visibly at the noise, which is the last thing you want to be doing when there is glass everywhere and you have forgone shoes in favor of your favorite cozy socks.]