[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.]
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.]