Hey! Uh. Just a quick text to let you know I’m fine! I kind of got stuck outside when the whole town went BANANAS but I ran into a friend (his name is Glitch) and I’m staying over at his place for a little bit.
[ Ozpin is... well, Ozpin is still alive, which sets him apart from nearly every other adult from Remnant. He is still tending wounds from the battle, but he is lucky that's the worst of it. He is lucky to take away no scars from the battle, even if his exhaustion seems to cut down to his soul.
Once things have settled enough to realize a warning is in order, he sends a message. ]
Stanford, this is Ozpin. I'd like to thank you for your assistance last week. [ Was it last week? Things run together without the cycle of the sun and moon, and the clocks aren't reliable. He doesn't have the presence of mind to think on it for long. ] I must warn you that the danger I spoke of, the Chill, is now present in Deerington. Keep alert for any individual with stark white skin and darkened eyes. They are largely incapable of speech, but may repeat their host's last words.
[ Had he told Ford that the changed skin and eyes were a fiction? Deerington doesn't seem to care. Deerington has drawn the monster straight from the pages of his own storybook. ]
[ You know what's great news to receive within days of your nephew maiming himself and your own decision to tackle your twin brother, both actions born out paranoia fueled by fears of possession?
Cause it sure isn't news that a different supernatural bodysnatcher is in town. Ford's pretty sure he remembers something about the eyes and skin not being a real warning sign, just a distortion of the myth, but... hell, if Ozpin says it's not in this case, then he'll take his word for it. He's too tired to even address the first part of Ozpin's message, instead jumping right to the part that he considers most pressing. ]
I appreciate you taking the time to warn me.
Are there any particular methods that need to be used to destroy the host?
[Left outside the house is a dark blue basket. Inside is an associate of tea, chocolates, a box of lemon drops, a bottle of wine and a copy of Charles Dickens, Christmas Carol. A blue Tardis-shaped card attached to the basket says, 'Santa' in silver marker.]
[On the 25th Ford will find a gift has been left outside his door! According to the tag it's from Fern, and inside the meticulously wrapped package is a reticulated puzzle ball carved out of bone.
[Ford will a box find either in his mailbox or sitting in front of his door at home outside. Inside, he'll find card sitting on top of a journal.
"Happy Holidays, Ford. I don't really know much about some of these holidays, but the sentiment seems really nice. You probably already have something for your notes, but I thought it might help either way.
-Mirai"
There's also an assorted mixture of cookies in a bag.]
Edited (Im sorry. My heads not in the game right now.) 2021-01-06 23:09 (UTC)
[Qrow has come to visit the spot of his old mentor's ghost (and then, his deer statue) several times over the past week, but a few minutes before the midnight turning the calendar to February 18th that he leaves Clover with a note that he's going to be out for awhile, and not to wait up for him before bed, maybe even breakfast.
He goes to sit by the statue with treats and a ball to distract Annie the guard dog on his way in, and waits. He's not sure how it looks from the outside; he had missed the moment of Ruby's revival because he had been too new to understand anything about the process. But Ozpin was there the moment he took his first breath with healed lungs, and something visceral within Qrow insists--demands--that he be there for Ozpin's, as well.
12:00 turns to 12:01, and nothing happens. Each of the succeeding sixty minutes are similarly uneventful, but for the way he jumps at the lightest noise, scanning around to see if that was finally it.
One hour stretches into three, then into five, and before he knows it, he's waking in the grass curled up against the statue, cheek and coat smudged with dirt from where he fell asleep. The sun is well up above the horizon and beats down shiny and warm, but Qrow is alone in the junkyard. He opens up the network to see if he missed the wizard, somehow, while he slept, but there is nothing new there.
He keeps waiting.
The Townspeople have been glitching continuously, but he isn't sure about the dog. He largely sticks to his bird form in case he risks being chased when the junkyard closes again, that night.
11:45 pm comes, and it starts to sink in that Oz is not coming back. Qrow remembers when he'd died, he had to eat an apple to return to the living world. Despite the peace of the place, he'd been too worried about Ruby and Clover to hesitate for a second. Perhaps Ozpin was content to live in Deerington as long as he could, but expecting him to relinquish death a second time was too much.
He wants to be angry about it, wants to be furious that Ozpin might have chosen to abandon them again, after everything they've been through by now, but mostly, he just feels hollow. What did it mean, to choose not to return? What would that do to your soul in the waking world? What would it do to a soul that was already in the process of merging with another?
He wants to be angry, but this is not that moment in the snow. On an endless night under a red moon, Qrow and Ozpin had spoken over tea and bared a little too much of their souls, and Ozpin had said I want to rest.
The weight of eternity has bent and broken Ozpin's back, and he's finally been offered release. Qrow .... finds he cannot begrudge him that.
The LED screen on his network device flicks the display over to a new hour, a new day, a new date. It now reads, Friday, February 19th, 12:00 AM, and it is that moment when Qrow first truly believes that Oz is gone. It's time to leave, then, and he viciously swipes at any moisture that might threaten to gather at his eyes before shifting to a bird, and flying away.
He intends to go home. He intends to return to the arms of the man he shares his home with, to let the grief wash over him and ebb naturally, this time, rather than be crushed swimming against the grain. Rather than spend days and weeks and months searching for a corpse he will never find. Rather than drown himself at the bottom of a bottle to ease the pain.
He makes a mistake in his choice of route. Even having been there only once, Qrow recognizes Ford's house immediately. Ford. Someone needs to tell him, he realizes. It's cruel to make him wait for someone who's not coming back.
He settles on the windowsill outside of one of the bedrooms, and the moment he spots Ford, he starts pecking at the glass aggressively. The bird does not appear to be taking no for an answer, just tapping away despite any attempts to ignore him...better let him in already, Ford.]
[ Qrow's timing is very fortunate; he catches Ford in a moment where he's not only awake, not only lucid, but also sitting upright. He still looks like hell, and there's still plenty of signs that he's sick - his hair is a mess, his pajamas are rumpled, there's a nest of blankets on his couch-slash-bed, there are stacks of cold medicine boxes on his end table, and his wastebasket is occupied entirely with tissues - but he's at least sitting under his own power and working his way some random sci-fi series or another, even if he's barely retaining the words.
He's not expecting a visit from Qrow. He's not expecting a visit from anyone in Ozpin's circle, actually. Still, he considers Qrow a friend, so when Ford looks up and recognizes him, he doesn't hesitate to get to his feet. He's not sure what exactly he's expecting, but he's not about to leave Qrow out in the cold. He crosses to the window and pushes it open. ]
Qrow...?
[ Ford's voice comes out very, very raw and creaky, and he grimaces when attempting to speak ends up being pretty painful, actually. He'll let Qrow do most of the talking, he thinks. ]
[ He wakes up in his own body. And, as it happens, in rather a lot of pain.
It is a long morning. Qrow helps him home; Glynda helps him to bed; he nurses tea, not cocoa, until the shivering passes. Oscar returns his Fluid and tucks in beside him in bed with no questions asked. They spend the day dozing, feverish and secondhand-feverish, aching and weary and glad to be alive.
It is good to be just Ozpin. Perhaps just-Ozpin had once been a person apart from the wizard, a boy who'd never even thought he'd be a Huntsman— but that is so long ago as to be childhood memory, faded and distant. Now he is simply himself. He can feel the background presence of Oscar's thoughts in his mind, but he can move his hand without having to consult anyone else for control, and right now, that feels like freedom.
He tiredly regards the disaster of his inbox, and texts Stanford Pines. ]
Stanford, I apologize for the unusual messages you received yesterday.
I was not in much condition to communicate by text, so turned to a young friend for assistance.
It seems she took the opportunity to play matchmaker.
[ This must, he thinks, come as reassuring news. He cannot imagine Stanford agreed to the date in earnest; the man must have known something was afoot, whether one of Deerington's tricks or a more mundane bit of chaos. Surely this will put the matter to rest. ]
[ Ford had left he and Ozpin's previous conversation very, very confused. His subsequent conversation with Stan had helped in many ways and left him even more confused in others. He's come to the comfortable conclusion that whatever Ozpin said was obviously influenced by the fact that he was horribly sick and likely treating himself with dubious 1950s dreamscape medicine. The incoherence makes sense. The earnestness behind his messages is more up in the air, but Ford is prepared to learn and accept that Ozpin was simply too delirious to understand what he'd been saying.
He's not prepared to learn that it hadn't even been Ozpin at all, and thus accepting it is a little hard. The negative emotions Ozpin had been expecting during the conversation the previous day - particularly hurt and humiliation - finally start to simmer inside him; Ford hadn't said anything especially incriminating, but he had been sincere in expressing his gratefulness for Ozpin's friendship and in accepting his invitation to dinner. He feels deliberately tricked - not by Ozpin, but whoever this friend is - but he's too embarrassed to ask who's responsible and without an adequate target it's hard to hold onto anything like anger.
Even so, it takes him a few long moments to reply. ]
I thought your messages sounded a bit strange. I assumed you were just delirious from the death symptoms.
It's Oscar. I learned something the other day that I was hoping you could explain to me. It's something that a very weird contact we both have said, and you know this contact better than Oz does.
It might be a good idea to meet in person.
Probably away from Dipper. I don't wanna keep secrets, but I don't want to worry him over whats probably nothing.
[ When Oscar puts it like that, there's only so many things it could be about - which means it's not something Ford can afford to brush off even if he wanted to. ]
Talking in person is fine. Do you have somewhere you'd like to meet?
Now you definitely have to let me take it out for a spin sometime, is that okay?
I heard you were going to let Ironwood hop on your cane and I totally want to call dibs before him because he's so freakin' big and metally that he's probably going to break it before anyone else gets a turn.
Oh boy, what does this mean? He's learned that Ruby's vocabulary choices can be odd, to say the very least, but even with that in mind he can't think of any meanings that aren't extremely euphemistic (which he finds unlikely) or extremely literal (which might be more likely, but he has no idea how that would work) and after a long moment of debating he has to admit that trying to figure it out is a fool's errand and he needs to admit defeat. ]
[ It is fine. Everything is fine, and Oz is fine, and he is coping perfectly well. He has been a Faunus before. He has had antlers before.
But he had been very young, then. He'd been a different man altogether. He'd still had faith; he had thought the game winnable and the war justified. He had still believed that He wanted him to save the world, and cared deeply enough to make it not only possible, but likely. A divine mission. A fated destiny.
It had been the thing to draw him up out of a low period. He'd been growing tired— he'd thought he knew what tired was, then— and it had been a blessing, to become an image of his faith. He had spread the Tale of Two Brothers. He'd told their gospel gladly.
It had been before Jinn. It had been before the Circle. It had been not long after her, and he'd thought, in his most desperate private moments, that perhaps this was his reward for turning away from her. Perhaps it was a sign. Recognition of what he'd lost, and gentle guidance toward what he was meant to be.
He does not feel that way anymore.
Now, he is merely tired. He has plans with Stanford this evening; he shall have to cancel them. That is unfortunate, given that this thing between them is still fumbling and fragile and new. But his antlers are itching like the velvet is about to shed, and he needs to simply lock himself away in his room and endure it until the whole affair passes. ]
Stanford, I'm afraid something has come up. It may be best to reschedule our plans for tonight.
[ If there's a more disappointing message to receive right now, Ford doesn't know what it would be.
The last date had been... not bad. It had been stilted and awkward in places, marred by too-long silences and some very clumsy gestures, but still not bad. Certainly better than their first date had gone, and while that might be a low bar to clear they had still cleared it. He'd been looking forward to a third, hopefully even less awkward date. To have it canceled is... well, disappointing.
At least this doesn't seem personal. Something has come up could mean nearly anything in Deerington and few of them good. ]
That's alright. We can reschedule.
Is it something I can help with?
[ It may not be a date, but Ford's knowledge of Deerington might come in handy. ]
[Ford will find a cake at his doorstep along with a hand written note.]
Dear Ford,
I just wanted to thank you for your making my new eye. Prosthetic. Thing. It's working great so far. 10/10 craftsmanship, would recommend to a friend. Please enjoy this cake.
Your Pal, R.R.
[The cake is disgusting. The two girls who made it have no right to be in a kitchen of any sort. Ford will likely find gummy worms, aged chocolate chips, M&M's and $3.50 in change baked into the cake.]
[ Everything has gone wrong. She is here; she is active; her thing is upon them.
He is out of time. Someone must face her, for whatever good it will do. Ruby is already missing; that Qrow hasn't followed in the name of revenge only means he has yet to find her. Ozpin alone has Stanford's compass, the needle pointing neatly across town. He knows she is out there, waiting for him.
The battle will come, and he does not truly expect to walk away from it. So: Ozpin makes a call, and his tone comes grave and low. ]
[ Ford is usually the one contacting Ozpin with bad news and warnings about dangerous situations. To have Ozpin open up with not even a warning but instead an immediate inquiry into his family's safety is...
Well. There's a startled silence from Ford, then a faint rustling as he sets aside his current project and digs out his compass. He takes a moment to check it, confirming that all four arrows are pointing where they should, before he finally responds. ]
We are.
[ And then, because he knows Oz isn't asking this out of nowhere: ]
I didn't get a chance to thank you for helping with everything that's happened recently. I'm not sure if Oz would have been quite the same if he didn't have someone he trusted that wasn't from home around. It's probably hard for him to relax when we're all in danger, I think.
If you've got time, I'd like to ask advice from you on robotics. For a friend. Nothing big.
Thanks
-Oscar
[...It was him. He's the friend. It was only a leg, nothing big.]
[ This message sure is a lot! Even without anyone around to see Ford flusters - and then he reads the rest of the message and he's saved from having to respond to the first part because he's being asked a very practical question. ]
I'm happy to help.
[ He will not say which part of the message that's in response to. ]
[ The whole concept of "texting" is still pretty new to Robin, but she needs information, and fast. Time to leave a message for the one person she's met who seems like he knows what he's doing! ]
Hey! It's Robin. You met me when I was doing that weird cowboy thing. Good news is that I'm not doing that anymore! Weird news is that I have all these eggs and I don't know what the hell they're for! Do you know what the deal is? Cool, thanks, bye!
[ Uuugh, he should have realized something like this would happen! At least it's probably only obvious to people that know both of them, and it's not like it could stay a secret forever. ]
Ruby's not very subtle, is she?
I appreciate your concern, Willow, but I'm fine. Everything's been handled.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptograms) wrote2020-09-06 03:13 pm
A Gift Has Been Delivered!
To Ford-san!
To help with restless nights and the fact that we barely sleep at all right now.
Love,
Usagi! ／(^ x ^)＼
[And should the box be opened, inside is a unicorn kigurumi that lets the wearer have a full, restful night's sleep.]
October 1st - 12:30 am
October 16th
Once things have settled enough to realize a warning is in order, he sends a message. ]
Stanford, this is Ozpin. I'd like to thank you for your assistance last week. [ Was it last week? Things run together without the cycle of the sun and moon, and the clocks aren't reliable. He doesn't have the presence of mind to think on it for long. ] I must warn you that the danger I spoke of, the Chill, is now present in Deerington. Keep alert for any individual with stark white skin and darkened eyes. They are largely incapable of speech, but may repeat their host's last words.
[ Had he told Ford that the changed skin and eyes were a fiction? Deerington doesn't seem to care. Deerington has drawn the monster straight from the pages of his own storybook. ]
A corrupted host must be destroyed.
no subject
Cause it sure isn't news that a different supernatural bodysnatcher is in town. Ford's pretty sure he remembers something about the eyes and skin not being a real warning sign, just a distortion of the myth, but... hell, if Ozpin says it's not in this case, then he'll take his word for it. He's too tired to even address the first part of Ozpin's message, instead jumping right to the part that he considers most pressing. ]
I appreciate you taking the time to warn me.
Are there any particular methods that need to be used to destroy the host?
(no subject)
Sometime after his post on 11/8/20 - Text
IF GLITCH CREEPS AROUND ASKING HOW OLD YOU ARE TELL HIM LITERALLY ANY OTHER NUMBER BUT OUR ACTUAL AGE. BUT ALSO SOMETHIN LESS THAN 97.
HE'S TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT AND I'M NOT LETTING HIM HAVE THE EASY ROUTE OF JUST ASKING YOU CAUSE I'M A JERK
👈👈
(THOSE ARE FINGER GUNS!!!)
no subject
(Those are just pointing hands.)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Action; no reply; December 24th
Dec 25
Merry Christmas, Ford!]
Backdated to Dec 24th; No reply
"Happy Holidays, Ford. I don't really know much about some of these holidays, but the sentiment seems really nice. You probably already have something for your notes, but I thought it might help either way.
-Mirai"
There's also an assorted mixture of cookies in a bag.]
Text; UN: Godisdead
no subject
I suppose like most breakfast foods best. Particularly waffles.
Why do you ask?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text; un: fern
got some important questions for you about
stuff
i thought you'd be a good person to ask since you're a huge nerd like Varian is
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
[Delivery]
It's a box of chocolates! And it comes with a handwritten note:]
Hey,
I just learned about this rad human holiday where you give people stuff if they're important to you, so I hope you like chocolate!
And if this isn't how the holiday works, sorry. I'm trying my best here.
-Fern
action; morning of the 19th - cw for references to suicidality, alcoholism
He goes to sit by the statue with treats and a ball to distract Annie the guard dog on his way in, and waits. He's not sure how it looks from the outside; he had missed the moment of Ruby's revival because he had been too new to understand anything about the process. But Ozpin was there the moment he took his first breath with healed lungs, and something visceral within Qrow insists--demands--that he be there for Ozpin's, as well.
12:00 turns to 12:01, and nothing happens. Each of the succeeding sixty minutes are similarly uneventful, but for the way he jumps at the lightest noise, scanning around to see if that was finally it.
One hour stretches into three, then into five, and before he knows it, he's waking in the grass curled up against the statue, cheek and coat smudged with dirt from where he fell asleep. The sun is well up above the horizon and beats down shiny and warm, but Qrow is alone in the junkyard. He opens up the network to see if he missed the wizard, somehow, while he slept, but there is nothing new there.
He keeps waiting.
The Townspeople have been glitching continuously, but he isn't sure about the dog. He largely sticks to his bird form in case he risks being chased when the junkyard closes again, that night.
11:45 pm comes, and it starts to sink in that Oz is not coming back. Qrow remembers when he'd died, he had to eat an apple to return to the living world. Despite the peace of the place, he'd been too worried about Ruby and Clover to hesitate for a second. Perhaps Ozpin was content to live in Deerington as long as he could, but expecting him to relinquish death a second time was too much.
He wants to be angry about it, wants to be furious that Ozpin might have chosen to abandon them again, after everything they've been through by now, but mostly, he just feels hollow. What did it mean, to choose not to return? What would that do to your soul in the waking world? What would it do to a soul that was already in the process of merging with another?
He wants to be angry, but this is not that moment in the snow. On an endless night under a red moon, Qrow and Ozpin had spoken over tea and bared a little too much of their souls, and Ozpin had said I want to rest.
The weight of eternity has bent and broken Ozpin's back, and he's finally been offered release. Qrow .... finds he cannot begrudge him that.
The LED screen on his network device flicks the display over to a new hour, a new day, a new date. It now reads, Friday, February 19th, 12:00 AM, and it is that moment when Qrow first truly believes that Oz is gone. It's time to leave, then, and he viciously swipes at any moisture that might threaten to gather at his eyes before shifting to a bird, and flying away.
He intends to go home. He intends to return to the arms of the man he shares his home with, to let the grief wash over him and ebb naturally, this time, rather than be crushed swimming against the grain. Rather than spend days and weeks and months searching for a corpse he will never find. Rather than drown himself at the bottom of a bottle to ease the pain.
He makes a mistake in his choice of route. Even having been there only once, Qrow recognizes Ford's house immediately. Ford. Someone needs to tell him, he realizes. It's cruel to make him wait for someone who's not coming back.
He settles on the windowsill outside of one of the bedrooms, and the moment he spots Ford, he starts pecking at the glass aggressively. The bird does not appear to be taking no for an answer, just tapping away despite any attempts to ignore him...better let him in already, Ford.]
no subject
He's not expecting a visit from Qrow. He's not expecting a visit from anyone in Ozpin's circle, actually. Still, he considers Qrow a friend, so when Ford looks up and recognizes him, he doesn't hesitate to get to his feet. He's not sure what exactly he's expecting, but he's not about to leave Qrow out in the cold. He crosses to the window and pushes it open. ]
Qrow...?
[ Ford's voice comes out very, very raw and creaky, and he grimaces when attempting to speak ends up being pretty painful, actually. He'll let Qrow do most of the talking, he thinks. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: talk of suicidality
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
2/22, text.
It is a long morning. Qrow helps him home; Glynda helps him to bed; he nurses tea, not cocoa, until the shivering passes. Oscar returns his Fluid and tucks in beside him in bed with no questions asked. They spend the day dozing, feverish and secondhand-feverish, aching and weary and glad to be alive.
It is good to be just Ozpin. Perhaps just-Ozpin had once been a person apart from the wizard, a boy who'd never even thought he'd be a Huntsman— but that is so long ago as to be childhood memory, faded and distant. Now he is simply himself. He can feel the background presence of Oscar's thoughts in his mind, but he can move his hand without having to consult anyone else for control, and right now, that feels like freedom.
He tiredly regards the disaster of his inbox, and texts Stanford Pines. ]
Stanford, I apologize for the unusual messages you received yesterday.
I was not in much condition to communicate by text, so turned to a young friend for assistance.
It seems she took the opportunity to play matchmaker.
[ This must, he thinks, come as reassuring news. He cannot imagine Stanford agreed to the date in earnest; the man must have known something was afoot, whether one of Deerington's tricks or a more mundane bit of chaos. Surely this will put the matter to rest. ]
no subject
He's not prepared to learn that it hadn't even been Ozpin at all, and thus accepting it is a little hard. The negative emotions Ozpin had been expecting during the conversation the previous day - particularly hurt and humiliation - finally start to simmer inside him; Ford hadn't said anything especially incriminating, but he had been sincere in expressing his gratefulness for Ozpin's friendship and in accepting his invitation to dinner. He feels deliberately tricked - not by Ozpin, but whoever this friend is - but he's too embarrassed to ask who's responsible and without an adequate target it's hard to hold onto anything like anger.
Even so, it takes him a few long moments to reply. ]
I thought your messages sounded a bit strange. I assumed you were just delirious from the death symptoms.
I'm glad you're feeling better.
1/3
2/3
3/4
4/5
5/6
done
(no subject)
cw suicidality and talk of death
cw suicidality and talk of death
cw suicidality and talk of death
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
February 27th video: UN: RadRidingHood
So... How'd dinner go last night????
Deets, Deets, Give me the deets!
no subject
[ Did Ozpin tell her? Ford didn't think he was the sort to do that but maybe Ford misjudged him. ]
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
2/20 After Bill's post goes up
CALLED IT!!!!!!
👈👈
[He did not call shit; he is jumping to conclusions.]
no subject
I suppose you did.
Though it's strange that he talks like they HAVEN'T broken up.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: discussion of cannibalism
cw: discussion of cannibalism
cw: discussion of cannibalism
cw: discussion of cannibalism
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
3/1 text | un: pinecone.
It's Oscar. I learned something the other day that I was hoping you could explain to me. It's something that a very weird contact we both have said, and you know this contact better than Oz does.
It might be a good idea to meet in person.
Probably away from Dipper. I don't wanna keep secrets, but I don't want to worry him over whats probably nothing.
Thanks.
no subject
Talking in person is fine. Do you have somewhere you'd like to meet?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: heavy, heavy fourth walling
cw: heavy, heavy fourth walling
cw: just assume there's lots more fourth wall stuff from here on
cw: just assume there's lots more fourth wall stuff from here on
(no subject)
(no subject)
Misfire Video: RadRidingHood
I finally figured it out the secret to your cane!
Cracked the code, nailed it!
Now you definitely have to let me take it out for a spin sometime, is that okay?
I heard you were going to let Ironwood hop on your cane and I totally want to call dibs before him because he's so freakin' big and metally that he's probably going to break it before anyone else gets a turn.
video ; un: stanford
Oh boy, what does this mean? He's learned that Ruby's vocabulary choices can be odd, to say the very least, but even with that in mind he can't think of any meanings that aren't extremely euphemistic (which he finds unlikely) or extremely literal (which might be more likely, but he has no idea how that would work) and after a long moment of debating he has to admit that trying to figure it out is a fool's errand and he needs to admit defeat. ]
Ruby, I have no idea what this means.
Also, you've sent this to the wrong person.
1/2
2/2
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(3/07) text. cw: mentions of transformation/body horror, religious trauma
But he had been very young, then. He'd been a different man altogether. He'd still had faith; he had thought the game winnable and the war justified. He had still believed that He wanted him to save the world, and cared deeply enough to make it not only possible, but likely. A divine mission. A fated destiny.
It had been the thing to draw him up out of a low period. He'd been growing tired— he'd thought he knew what tired was, then— and it had been a blessing, to become an image of his faith. He had spread the Tale of Two Brothers. He'd told their gospel gladly.
It had been before Jinn. It had been before the Circle. It had been not long after her, and he'd thought, in his most desperate private moments, that perhaps this was his reward for turning away from her. Perhaps it was a sign. Recognition of what he'd lost, and gentle guidance toward what he was meant to be.
He does not feel that way anymore.
Now, he is merely tired. He has plans with Stanford this evening; he shall have to cancel them. That is unfortunate, given that this thing between them is still fumbling and fragile and new. But his antlers are itching like the velvet is about to shed, and he needs to simply lock himself away in his room and endure it until the whole affair passes. ]
Stanford, I'm afraid something has come up. It may be best to reschedule our plans for tonight.
no subject
The last date had been... not bad. It had been stilted and awkward in places, marred by too-long silences and some very clumsy gestures, but still not bad. Certainly better than their first date had gone, and while that might be a low bar to clear they had still cleared it. He'd been looking forward to a third, hopefully even less awkward date. To have it canceled is... well, disappointing.
At least this doesn't seem personal. Something has come up could mean nearly anything in Deerington and few of them good. ]
That's alright. We can reschedule.
Is it something I can help with?
[ It may not be a date, but Ford's knowledge of Deerington might come in handy. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Delivery. Sometime During the middle of March
Dear Ford,
I just wanted to thank you for your making my new eye.
Prosthetic.
Thing.
It's working great so far.
10/10 craftsmanship, would recommend to a friend.
Please enjoy this cake.
Your Pal,
R.R.
[The cake is disgusting. The two girls who made it have no right to be in a kitchen of any sort. Ford will likely find gummy worms, aged chocolate chips, M&M's and $3.50 in change baked into the cake.]
Sometime during the first week of March probably
late march, voice.
He is out of time. Someone must face her, for whatever good it will do. Ruby is already missing; that Qrow hasn't followed in the name of revenge only means he has yet to find her. Ozpin alone has Stanford's compass, the needle pointing neatly across town. He knows she is out there, waiting for him.
The battle will come, and he does not truly expect to walk away from it. So: Ozpin makes a call, and his tone comes grave and low. ]
Stanford. Are you and your family safe?
no subject
Well. There's a startled silence from Ford, then a faint rustling as he sets aside his current project and digs out his compass. He takes a moment to check it, confirming that all four arrows are pointing where they should, before he finally responds. ]
We are.
[ And then, because he knows Oz isn't asking this out of nowhere: ]
Are you alright?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
2/3
3/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Mid April | text | un:pinecone
I didn't get a chance to thank you for helping with everything that's happened recently. I'm not sure if Oz would have been quite the same if he didn't have someone he trusted that wasn't from home around. It's probably hard for him to relax when we're all in danger, I think.
If you've got time, I'd like to ask advice from you on robotics. For a friend. Nothing big.
Thanks
-Oscar
[...It was him. He's the friend. It was only a leg, nothing big.]
no subject
I'm happy to help.
[ He will not say which part of the message that's in response to. ]
What sort of question did you have?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text un; glitch
recieving a Link. He makes good on his promises, Stan. ]
voice; un: robin
Hey! It's Robin. You met me when I was doing that weird cowboy thing. Good news is that I'm not doing that anymore! Weird news is that I have all these eggs and I don't know what the hell they're for! Do you know what the deal is? Cool, thanks, bye!
no subject
Robin, yes. I remember you.
As for the eggs... has anyone told you about the Pthumerians and the history of Deerington?
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
2/3; cw: internalized homophobia
3/3
Text, UN: Willow
no subject
Ruby's not very subtle, is she?
I appreciate your concern, Willow, but I'm fine. Everything's been handled.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)