#* the man behind the militant machine = caeloservare ** james *

[flightofaqrow]

James voted for the weird owl. He has no idea what that thing is, but it's kind of cute and same time he gets to annoy Qrow.

sounds like someone wants a very angry bird screaming and banging on their window all day while they try to work?!?!

[flightofaqrow]

[ TUG ]:          sender grabs the receiver’s hair and pulls at it. ( because there's something tangled in it? )

hair ** always accepting

"hey...!" qrow barks, barely registering just who even stood behind him.

that's the most unpleasant way someone's tugged at his hair in a long time. probably since the last time he saw his nieces, except this was much stronger, all the way down to the scalp. with no warning!

"what's th' deal, pal?" he rubs his head and turns to his friend, rapport between them probably the only reason he didn't get a straight punch to the face. the spot stings sore and... stiff?

James looks at qrow like he's stupid.

a... hairclip? he can feel it in his fingers, one of those little springy claw contraptions, still buried in black strands. ...speaking of the girls.

now qrow's making stupid faces, trying to disentangle it, and trying to ignore James' grin. damn, that sucker's really in there.

"sometimes little girl tea time gets wild, y'know," he finally offers in explanation, without any real apology; he still struggles with an impossible task when he can't see what's going on up in that bird's nest, until his shoulders finally slump and crimson eyes cast up towards James, standing ever so steady and patient and smug, "...yeah, alright, guess I could use some help."

[flightofaqrow]

tag refresh, custom

[flightofaqrow]

Five of the Tribe headcanons

Please also see!!!:

the original five ( past vs present, hierarchy and movement within, how they got and treated the twins, naming ceremony )

things @littleblackqrow has helped me out on and/or I absorbed from her ( community variation; pets/animals;  )

good @/strqyr commentary

How well did Qrow fare in the tribe when he was younger?

Okay, let’s dig deep for some more. This is the hardest thing about writing this character, I swear. Entire worldbuilding. (Thank you though, always makes for good questions!)

The tribe isn’t isolated from modern society entirely. Many people know about things like scrolls, and cars, and mechas, etc. Some joined after having lived in metropolitan areas, after all, but a roaming band of nomads doesn’t exactly have access to electricity or public sewage/water. So they do without. Maybe some exceptions of using something battery operated until it died and then was sold off, or if they happen upon some solar powered lanterns or similar. 

.

Vol 4/5 definitely gives the impression they’re not always on the move. There are whole wooden shelter structures and fences set up, and they were in the same place from Vol 3 when Raven let the location “slip” to Qrow, up until the fall of Haven, which is probably several months at least? They probably have a hideout for 1-3 years unless something comes up that forces an immediate move.

.

They take care of each other in a biological needs and survival sense, but loyalty does not extend to objects. They steal from each other. That’s just how it is. They have a concept of, and people are allowed their own “property”, and goods are distributed from raids (see prior post), but this is a temporary state at best. Once you have something, you have to protect it, otherwise it’s up for grabs by someone smarter (stolen) or stronger (claimed via fight). Granted, doing so might get you on someone’s shitlist, and/or land you in a fight with that person you stole from to get it back, so... pick your targets wisely. The chief and their closest leaders are usually pretty solid to leave some stuff lying around in their quarters. (This is part of why Qrow has a propensity for jewelry. It’s easier to guard and move goods if you wear them on your person.)

.

I know this is something Khristle and I share as well, it might even be on some of those links - it wasn’t all bad! The tribe had festivals and  ceremonies and rituals, mentoring and music and storytelling, mishmashes of things from all around Remnant. They had fun and encouraged each other - just so long as you didn’t show weakness about it. They still fostered a sense of community and family this way, small glimpses of freedom and hope within a cruel world. The rules and fights were brutal, but it was still frowned upon to maim, murder, touch without consent, each other. Not that it didn’t happen, but those individuals would see retaliation or be ostracized until they shaped up. This ‘respect’ did not extend to outsiders. They didn’t discriminate based on anything except whether you could carry your own weight and place.

.

Also gonna share with Khristle here - they are superstitious. It’s difficult to live out in the woods and weather and hearing all kinds of myths and ghost stories and not be. They named Qrow and Raven for some. Bad omens, ghosts, faery rings and courts, haunting grimm, spirits in the wild, not all, but most, believe in a non-zero chance they’re out there at least. Many of those ceremonies and rituals were based on keeping bad luck/spirits/creature or inviting good luck/spirits/creatures, too. Mistral seems to be somewhat East and/or Southeast Asia based, while Branwen is Welsh and the Poetic Edda is Norse, so double bonus for tales and holidays from these areas. (Personally, I treat the twins as if they look Korean but have a Gaelic history. It all blends, though.)

[flightofaqrow]

💛!!! but also a bit of 💖💚

send some love ** not accepting 💛: Loves them platonically. 💖: Finds them aesthetically attractive. 💚: Is a little jealous of them.

"heh. you're welcome t'join th' bad boy side of things aaaanytime y'like, buddy."

[flightofaqrow]

Qrow can get a New Year bear hug from James. Rib-crushing tight, warm and rather cheerful bear hug.

New Year’s** no longer accepting

“h-hey, easy, big guy,” qrow huffs jovially between breaths. he questions whether the man is unaware of his own strength, or just the rush of emotions crushing out at once. 

... and was that whiskey in the air?

ugh, he hadn’t spent New Year’s dry since before he can remember. nor without either a handsome someone slopped over on his arm or flat out alone, really. Well, this year, his friend James’ll do.

“...Happy New Year t’you too.”

[flightofaqrow]

drunk call

qrow + James ( @caeloservare​ )

qrow listens, the concern of James’ voice and bend in his brow drawing him in. and with each word tumbling from liquor-laced lips, wine red eyes grow narrower, more skeptical.

why him? he just wanted to drink with a pal in peace. oh, right. that’s something the universe could never afford to give him.

“it’s… it’sa fairy tale, my man.”

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"Assuming a mostly healthy woman with quite fragile posture weights around 40kg, wouldn't glass shoes break under the princess while walking? Glass doesn't stretch unless it's too hot to touch, so wearing glass shoes must have been torture. Why was the prince attracted to a girl publicly torturing herself in front of likely entire noble class? Even assuming somehow shoes didn't break and she didn't cut herself with the shards. She danced there, Qrow! Why was she doing that? What's the point of this fairytale? Why is it so widely popular? ... Gods, this is sickening." James’ concern is very serious.

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qrow listens, the concern of James’ voice and bend in his brow drawing him in. and with each word tumbling from liquor-laced lips, wine red eyes grow narrower, more skeptical.

it’s kinda cute that the man would care about this hypothetical other person so much, in such… thorough detail, but. why this?

why him? he just wanted to drink with a pal in peace.

oh, right. that’s something the universe could never afford to give him.

“it’s… it’sa fairy tale, my man,”  qrow’s hand gestures in the air as if to say so what, “they tend ta be, yanno… exaggerated. and anyway, if y’ask me - female fashion doesn’t always make sense. …or the noble class fer that matter.”

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“Fair point, but why is it shown as romantic love story? Public torturing is passé even for noble snobs! It was for long before the Great War. Aren’t fairytales supposed to be educational? What’s the lesson here? It takes a masochist to please a sadist? Do everything you can to get attention even if it costs you your legs?”

If James had any insight into Qrow’s thoughts, he’d be a little surprised with how different they define peace. For him that was it - ability to drink himself stupid, however accidental it was, be vulnerable and be able to talk with someone, knowing that it won’t be number one issue all over tomorrow’s news. Another little secret, a moment shared with Qrow, with guard down, without regret nor doubt, knowing it was safe.

“Fairytales are awful. There’s not even fairies most of the time.” Clearly he shouldn’t, but he gladly takes a long sip from his glass. “I hope this one wasn’t Ozpin’s idea.”

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qrow’s concern turns to outright laughter, if at nothing but the indignant sound of James’ voice over faeries. he giggles, gleefully, as the fourth… fifth? more? round of liquor hits him harder. maybe a ranting man wasn’t so bad after all.

as long as the rants stayed this absurd. maybe it was better to worry about these little problems for awhile than the big ones that haunted his nights and nightmares.

he pats James on the shoulder, “no faeries?” he feigns offense, “we needt’a getcha some better stories then, pal.”

he also leaves out the fact that there was a faerie godmother in that one; maybe not all versions had her.

“I hope this one wasn’t Ozpin’s idea.”

“eh,” that line brings him slightly out of his reverie. he leans away again, one long leg crossing over the knee of the other, “nah, prob’ly Salem’s.” it was nice to be able to speak openly about these things with some people. to say her name as if she were a regular enemy, and not some big scary secret.

red eyes stare into his tumbler as he swirls amber liquid and ice around in the glass, “she likes’ta make th’ damsels sound all helpless ��n sympathetic in ‘er stories. yet somehow they’re the center ‘f th’story an’ usu’ly get what they want by th’end. Ozpin’s are more th’type t’have th’ lesson.”

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Some kind of mixed emotions run through James’ face at mention of Salem. There’s mostly bitter anger, but also something else.

“She sucks.” He decides out loud. “She sucks. Just like her stupid stories. We need to put an end to this. Oz and his boring lectures are way better. Superior even. Still no fairies though.” He pouts, but his face eases as his focus leaves Salem again.

“There should be fairies in fairytales. It only makes sense!”

[flightofaqrow]

fight fight fight

qrow + James ( @caeloservare )

sometimes asking is all it takes.

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“Hey, want to spar?” Seems James has some time at hand and no classes are planned for training grounds. Maybe he’s a tad bit worried for a murder birb he haven’t heard from for a while. None of his business what he’s up to though.

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none of his business, but he makes it anyway. does he really care about qrow or just how the amity missions are going? just how he trains up these kids to fight in his own war like Oz did? because that’s all his life really is now, beyond getting sober on the side.

the headaches and the nausea fades, but the hurt in his heart only gets heavier, but at least it helps him realize he still has one.

and his joints still ache for a good fight, though. he grins.

“sure, i’ll kick your butt anytime, James. name the place. …we gonna do this with weapons or mano a mano?” he inquires, yet cracks his knuckles as if making a suggestion.

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General rolls eyes, but smiles warmly, a little relieved.

“You’re invited to try.” Seems Qrow wasn’t doing bad enough to worry about him openly, if he had enough steam for banter and small taunting. “Training grounds, right away, hand to hand and you pick the facility settings.”

He doesn’t really wait for Qrow, taking his coat off and walking towards the room. He should change into something comfier and easier to move in. Stiff shoulders is last thing he needs while sparring with someone as agile and skilled as Qrow. There should be some spare sweatpants and t-shirts in the changing room, but they’ll just see how it goes.

“No weapons and no weaponizing whatever you’ll get your hands on at the gym. I like my teeth where they are, thank you.”

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“you got it,” mischievous, determined grin widens, and just for that taunt, qrow’s gonna make it literal.

James should know better than to push his luck like that with him. he knows without Harbinger it will be a true challenge; while qrow’s hand to hand is far from lacking, he doesn’t rely on it as much as the other huntsman. and a move or two of his has been picked up from the General himself, too.

he stops at the programming terminal, inputting commands for rock and tree-like terrain, slightly dimmed lights.

“can’t make any promises about not weaponizin’ things, though,” his voice softens as he stares at the screen; speaks only truth, not threats, “…can’t always control that.”

qrow skips the changing room; simply removes his outer layer and tosses it to the side of the training gym, leaving the freedom of a loose-fitting tunic still tucked into combat slacks.

he reminds himself to stretch while he waits. it’s something else he’s neglected for too long and his body isn’t getting any younger.

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James takes little time to change into regular to the pain Atlas sweatpants combined with his heavy shoes. He walks out of changing room already frowning, annoyed at too tight t-shirt that doesn’t exactly fit over his shoulders. At least he’ll have more energy to burn out in combat.

“Don’t throw nor swing things at me on purpose and we’re good.” He grumbles pulling at shirt’s sleeves. “Your semblance is already pain in the ass. I ment purposeful usage, not just random inconveniences.”

He grits teeth and takes a decision. Can’t spar if he can’t move shoulders.

“Don’t tell Clover I did that.” They’d rip anyway, so might as well just tear the sleeves off himself. Obviously he’ll wash the pants and replace the shirt before returning it here.

Now he can roll shoulders. Still a bit tight in chest, but range of movement is satisfactory. A little warm-up is a good idea.

[flightofaqrow]

rest

qrow + James ( @caeloservare​ )

If Qrow wants a little break, he might have an idea what could possibly help. James left his almost-second-desk table and brought a blanket from bedroom. Not much can turn into a disaster while wrapped in something soft and warm, right?

qrow might still be pissed, but at least he is cozy. He knows James to work quietly and to leave him to his own hurts, unlike the vibrant, meddlesome kids training downstairs. he heaves a sigh, and glares out the window. something’s coming; he can feel it in the air. he needs to be sharper than this… this trainwreck of a man wracked with guilt and disillusionment, and rendered weak from withdrawal.

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“yeah i’m pissed off but i’d rather not talk about it.  that’s why you’re the one i came to.”

“Well then…” He can’t ask in this case. It was much more open and honest confession than expected, he has to respect that. “Shall I book the gym for you or fetch a bottle?”

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“neither,” qrow growls, all at once snapping with the immediate ferocity of his stated attitude, yet with a longing to the word that suggests he had to force himself to say it.

“jus’ peace and quiet,” his head throbs and his heart aches, and all he wants is the familiar silence James’ welcome a week or so ago seemed to suggest he missed too.

“…least for five seconds ‘til somethin’ breaks.” peace makes for a tall order with Misfortune around, especially the more and more qrow starts to care.

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Neither? What on earth has happened when he wasn’t looking?

“I suppose you’re aware that I do have questions… That can wait thought.” That’s a whole bunch of unexpected things from Qrow, refusing a drink starting, irritation at the end of the list.

But if Qrow wants a little break, he might have an idea what could possibly help. James left his almost-second-desk table and brought a blanket from bedroom. Not much can turn into a disaster while wrapped in something soft and warm, right?

“Come here.” He nods towards the couch, offering to turn Qrow into a blanket burrito.

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anger still flows through qrow’s heavy veins, and part of him wonders why this makes for such a comfort when he’s not even sure if he can trust James at the moment, and another part has words for the way the General has assigned him to his very own pretentious polar opposite, but he has little else left to believe in right now.

he curls into the corner of the couch, tucking long limbs all together, and lets the blanket drape over his shoulders. hands grab the hems gratefully and pull tight with a small grunt to acknowledge those questions as well as the offer to pass on them for now. “thanks,” he clips.

he might still be pissed, but at least he is cozy, and the warmth seeps to soothe aching muscles from lack of sleep. He knows James to work quietly and to leave him to his own hurts, unlike the vibrant, meddlesome kids training downstairs.

qrow heaves a sigh, and glares out the window. something’s coming; he can feel it in the air. he needs to be sharper than this… this trainwreck of a man wracked with guilt and disillusionment, and rendered weak from withdrawal.

he has weathered so many storms before, and he will again; it’s simply nice to have a strong, grounding presence here with him in the meantime.

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General kept quietly working, but couldn’t help glancing from time to time to a miserable couch caterpillar of one unfortunate bird. Too many things feel off, something big had happened one way or another, but he won’t press on what was it. Hopefully, he’ll find out eventually. For now he sticks to working on, but decides maybe he could actually stop once he’ll finish current pile. A friend is upset - it feels rude, even if he basically asked to be ignored for a while.

“Qrow, are you asleep?” He asks quietly about an hour later, setting two fresh mugs of a steaming coffee on the coffee table. Maybe not the smartest move, but both he doubts that Qrow sleeps if he was really this pissed and he could down two mugs in no time, if he does sleep. Assuming the scent won’t lure him out of the blanket in the first place.

Besides he’d like to sit on the couch too, but doesn’t want to invade it uninvited. Personal space can change a lot depending on the mood and obviously Qrow wasn’t in a good one.

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somewhere in the pounding rage of his head, and veins, and heart, and stomach, it all aligned enough to convince qrow’s body all worked well enough for rest. or maybe because none of it could go on any further.

his eyes closed without realization of the drift, and now flutter at stimulation of sound and smell. his hand reaches out from the side of covers to grasp the mug, fingers wrapping slowly, wearily around it, and then all at once the comforting warmth soothes him right back under. his arm droops into the gap between table and couch; his grip remains tentatively steady.

a heavy head slides down from the armrest to crunch his airway and he starts to snore. 

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Riight… That’s about enough of an answer. Well, at least he didn’t spill much and that grip is kind of impressive. General needs a moment to just stare in awe, before coming back to his concerns.

Coffee obviously has to wait, so he bends down and tries to pluck the mug from Qrow’s hand as gently as possible, same time trying not to wake him. Then wiping the floor it is. Then… Well, maybe he’ll take a break for once and just sit there and stare on the ceiling for a while. Sounds like a good plan.

On the way to kitchen for the paper towels, James stops to lightly pet Qrow’s hair. Hopefully he’ll wake up in a better mood. Once in the kitchen, James realised that it could use some clean up. He could also prepare something to eat, since he has a guest. Staring at the ceiling can wait, time to start cooking.

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he leaves a stain no matter where he goes. qrow branwen, can never truly clean up his act. for good measure, he’ll probably leave some drool on the couch cushion too.

he breathes less evenly in heavier sleep, huffing here and there with jerky movements to his torso and tangled legs. motions which settle for just the briefest of moments at the reassuring warmth of a hand on his head.

once left alone again, he pulls his arm back, curling in on himself as snores change to strange, garbled noises, clearly disturbed but not quite in distress.

his body hates him, and apparently takes it out on his dreams, for the fact he dares try to rest. until said body senses food, and decides it should start trying to rouse him once more for new priorities…

he quiets, but still not yet wakes.

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James noticed noises pretty late, due to vegetables frying on the pan being significantly louder and closer sound. He couldn’t leave the pan to burn and that surely would happen, given that he truly wasn’t the best cook around. Least he could do was trying to prepare food a bit quicker.

Before he was done with cooking enough to leave the kitchen, Qrow fell quiet again. That’s a good sign, but concerns don’t leave James do easily. Once he is sure kitchen won’t catch on fire and food is almost ready, save for serving, he goes back to the couch. Should he wake him or leave him be, since he stopped giving strange noises likely coming from bad dreams?

This time he squats to gently pet Qrow’s greying head. And stays there for a longer moment doing just that, a silent expression of care.

“Qrow.” He calls quietly. “Dinner is ready.”

[flightofaqrow]

@caeloservare​ from ***

“sorry, lemme rephrase. how ‘bout th’ ‘getting fucked over’ skill,” qrow replies with absolutely no decorum. damn, who knew high society meant not even knowing basic slang?

“no wonder y’can’t communicate with yer own subjec- i mean, people.”

he’s in a fighting mood, apparently. that often happened around James. ...and atlesians in general.

[flightofaqrow]

Gift for Qrow is a fluffy blanket and a huge pack of mixed seeds, nuts and dried fruits. Whatever James was thinking while getting him these for Valentines. Quite likely he thought it was funny.

funny? Ironwood would see this as a joke? yeah, alright. maybe actual, nice creature comforts that suggest relaxing and eating properly wouldn't mark as legitimate in his world.

qrow, on the other hand, adores these gifts, though he'd be loathe to do much but say thanks with a sarcastic eye roll. he can take the blanket in his travel pack, and he already breaks into a handful of the trail mix, with a very pleased birdbrain and a warmth in his very human chest.

a perfect Valentine's gift for a weary wanderer. he may even consider himself lucky today - though maybe having a few friends that know him so well has little to do with luck.

[flightofaqrow]

Morning After platonic cuddles yes pretty please

morning after ** accepting

quiet. 

it’s quiet.

and yet warm. and yet cold.

conflicting sensations confuse qrow’s body into not knowing what it feels, and all combined it really should act as a clue. 

he can’t remember the last time he woke up with a body wrapped around him, especially still wearing clothes. a warm abdomen presses to his back, and a cold arm drapes over his own torso. Ironwood, of all people, somehow crawled under his covers in the dead of night, with qrow dead asleep for the whole thing.

he restrains himself from balking or jumping, startling and ruining a surreal moment, yet a moment of peace... rolling his eyes and sighing instead.

damn, James really had felt lonely lately, huh?  and he must have felt even lonelier for a sobering self to do nothing to stop it from happening. nor do anything now to stop it from continuing.

at least the man’s finally getting some sleep, he thinks, with snores gently drifting over his ears.

he pulls the blanket higher over both their shoulders, keeps his hands to himself, and tries not to give into wandering images of a bed shared with someone he’s not questioning the sanity and actions of more and more each day, including this.

he does, however, indulge the instinct to snooze a little longer. after all, who could yell at him for being late to the morning’s mission if the General is too? 

[flightofaqrow]

costs

qrow + James ( @caeloservare​​ ) spinoff from shenanigans

“you have no proof,” says one perfectly human person sipping a mug of coffee and staring at footage filled with nothing but a flock of blackbirds vandalizing atlas drones and… 

flirting[x] with[x] Robyn Hill[x]? huh. how about that.

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He’s so done with the murder, he’s going to take on more paperwork and send you all invoices for few thousand lien to pay for destroying Atlas property or at least make up for it in community service.

Drones aren’t this cheap to make, you know-

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“you have no proof,” says one perfectly human person sipping a mug of coffee and staring at footage filled with nothing but a flock of blackbirds vandalizing atlas drones and… flirting with Robyn Hill? huh. how about that.

“‘sides. i already do th’ community a service by stayin’ away and slayin’ grimm all day.”

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“No actual birds are capable of this level of organized attack, because it doesn’t count as vandalism anymore. This is enough of a proof and please note that I consider myself generous, given the damage you have caused for your own amusement.”

“And no, that doesn’t count. Don’t make me lock all the tasks for you.”

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“you really think? you shoulda seen some’a the flocks in southern anima. brought down a whole waterfall. just so they could have some calmer waters for th’ nestin’ grounds!”

he takes another sip, and tilts his head towards the man with something akin to concern.

“an’ i get my missions straight form the source. or what i find on my own out there. haven’t used assignment boards in decades! Brothers, Jim, get with th’ picture.”

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“This isn’t Southern Anima.”

“This isn’t community work and this is not going to help you avoid responsibility for your actions. Grow up for once.”

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“it sure ain’t. they’d be throwin’ a parade over some busted drones.”

good for parts. qrow snatched some of the smaller bits for his own stash.

but after a sigh, he does happen to get very serious. “y’know that sounds more like your responsibility. if y’actually did your job, the community shoul’n’t need volunteers.”

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“It is my responsibility to clean your mess. However, I assumed you know there’s always deficit on huntsmen and way more lowbrow duties to perform. Perfect for you to take care of, while I see through restoring the drones.”

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“well,” qrow says with a groan as he stands, video finished, coffee cup emptied, and finally his first statement is something they can agree on, “an order’s an order.”

he turns, obediently, like he’s about to head off to get some work done. …but what work?

“…good thing y’still can’t prove multiple birds has anythin’ t’do with me, and i’m still not one’a your men.” he tosses a piss poor attempt at an atlesian salute over his shoulder on the way out the door, the barest shred of respect given to his friend, but none for the authority he tries to hold over qrow. orders, pssh.

“see ya later.”

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James just stares after Qrow. He’s done, he can’t keep pointlessly arguing like that, when he has work waiting. He looks at the invoice painfully aware it’s all left on his head again, without any help nor consequences to culprits. Crushes paper into a small ball and throws it at Qrow’s head. 

He’s done and tired.​

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it misses.

Misfortune in his favor, for once.

his own actions on the other hand… well, he and James have always had differing opinions on what’s fair.

[flightofaqrow]

promotion

qrow + James ( @caeloservare​ )

There were a few familiar faces, but most occupied with conversations, so James picked less busy one to approach, “Qrow.”

He gave a friendly smile, reaching for two glasses of champagne to offer one to Qrow.

“hey, General. Headmaster?” he absolutely takes the offered glass, simply relishing the swirl and weight in his hand for now, “ tell me, what does make a man want to hold two high ranking positions and everything that comes with ‘em?”

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The tie is too tight, he’s so sure it is. But same time James was sure it’d just slide and be crooked whole time, if he didn’t tie it this precisely and tightly. What a shame if he suffocates on his own tie, barely first day on duty as headmaster of the Atlas Academy. Not really first, but first this pompus with guests, ceremony protocols and a banquet later. A good occasion to meet and establish some additional connections, but he was growing tired. Ironwood already led the army, shouldn’t be this tensed over an academy. Truth is, it is much more than just an academy and he won’t let Ozpin down.

But he can let his tie, damn it. He sighed and loosened it a little. If any nosy reporter would try to make it a new controversy, he’ll try to be polite throwing them out the door for just as scandalous offending savoir vivre. Besides, banquet was only half formal and long enough all guests could spontaneously forget about third of the protocol by now. Looking around proved that in fact half of it was forgotten or ignored already. James smiled to himself.

There were a few familiar faces, but most occupied with conversations, so he picked less busy one to approach. “Qrow.” He greeted him with a small nod. “Mind if I join you for a bit? Being in the centre of spotlight is surprisingly tiring.” He gave a friendly smile, reaching for two glasses of champagne to offer one to Qrow.

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suit and tie occasion, tch. they’re lucky Ozpin convinced qrow to at least wear a standard vest and dress shirt. it most certainly isn’t even buttoned all the way to collar. he’s already watching Ironwood fuss, an amused grin meeting him when he walks over. for being so stuffy in the head, he seemed to enjoy the fripperies that came along with his fancy titles and positions just as little as qrow did. well, it gave them something in common, maybe.

“hey, General. Headmaster?” he absolutely takes the offered glass, simply relishing the swirl and weight in his hand for now, “what do i even call ya these days, huh? anyway, can’t argue there.” now, he toasts in half-genuine, half-mock congratulations for the promotion and takes a sip, “but ya did kinda sign up for it. twice over.”

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“General is fine.” Ironwood smiles. He’s so used to the title, sometimes he forgets he has a name to it. Moreover, it sounds much more reliable than “headmaster”. Title that actually carries something very serious to it. Or maybe he just likes it.

He notices the bits of mockery in the toast, but it takes much more to get close to offending him. “I’m afraid I did.” James chuckles quietly. “I’ll tell you worse - I knew exactly what I was doing. I don’t recall anything about signing up for the banquets though. Luckily there seems to be a few upsides of having to attend those.” He takes another sip and tastes it in silence.

“We both will have more work now, won’t we?” He doesn’t seem any worried about it. Rather low-key enthusiastic.

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yeah, the man would attach more to the military, wouldn’t he. “we will.” qrow takes a longer drink. he doesn’t want to think about work. his never really ends. even as they speak, he’s scoping out the room. seeing how people take to the new situation. patrolling for intruders with his eyes on mere instinct if not assignment. the champagne is almost gone already.

one arm crosses over his chest while the other holds onto the glass, but rests the elbow of that arm on the hand now nearby. “knew exactly, huh? so tell me, General. what does make a man want to hold two high ranking positions and everything that comes with ‘em?”

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“Don’t you know, Qrow? The very same thing that made us all agree with Ozpin.” He smiles, fond of the thought. “Double the duties, means also double the chances on our side. That’s a useful advantage, if you ask me.” He puts the glass down on the table. It’s still half full, but he can’t really afford drinking it whole with every person in the hall today. Look he gives to tiny olive bowls, gives away that he’s tempted to start visualizing his ideas on improptu map.

“The Council meets tomorrow. Most likely they won’t be too pleased to see me, since with two votes I am a serious threat to their authority. We have to be subtle and careful, but you see where I’m going with this? It’s not a burden, but an opportunity to take.” Glints in his eyes are bright, matching the future he sees. “I am honored to do it. Even if it means press conferences.” Ironwood chuckles, slightly embarrassed.

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“oh yeah, i follow that.” he follows Ironwood’s glazed over gaze, too. the General definitely has plans upon plans, and that’s usually something qrow would respect but it’s clear already how much the man considers advantage to mean leverage. and leverage means power. but as long as its power used in accordance with Ozpin’s plans upon plans, he figures it’s acceptable. still, he’s curious, “what i wonder is what exactly kinda opportunity you’re hopin’ to make good on.”

the rest of his drink doesn’t last long, and an empty glass soon sits beside the half-empty one. Ironwood looks so happy and pleased with himself, ready to step up and step in, and possibly even step on, all in the name of what’s right. this should be a celebration. but qrow has that same twisting in his gut he always does, especially in atlas, and even the lightness in his head after a few glasses of bubbly doesn’t lift his mood. “you say you aim t’be subtle and careful, but subtle doesn’t usually come with an army and a school full of trainees, General. which is exactly what the council’s prob’ly thinkin’ too.”

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“You’re starting to sound like a reporter. Do I have to remind you that we’re on the same side?” Corners of his lips twist the smile into more bitter one and he narrows eyes a little. That’s not going to ruin his good mood, but clearly forgetting whom he’s talking to, wasn’t a good idea. They’re allies, but not friends. Worth remembering. “I report everything back to Oz, you don’t have to play collecting intelligence on me.” But somehow that’s fair that Qrow didn’t leave his job even on a banquet. Seems they have something in common after all.

“That is exactly why I’m not planning to take advantage of it. Ever. They’re not the enemy, but to win this war, we have to create as much highly advanced power as possible, which will increase… chances of survival. And safety. For everyone. You can relax and cheer up for once, Qrow. I’m not happy to hold more strings and I’m not intending to pull them, but to keep them as safe as possible.”

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“humph,” qrow’s eyes drop along with some of his pricklier spines at a well-placed fair reminder; angry red reflects reflects back to him as he looks down, stares off, only to meet the glasses left on the table once more. Ironwood did have a point. a spy’s life tended to bleed into everything. leaving work behind, especially knowing that fight continually rages, is something qrow does find difficult to do. but that compounds upon a naturally curious personality.

“don’t worry. i’m not here to play spy on you. askin’ info for Oz, and askin’ so i can get to know how ya tick are two different things.” and he can’t argue with the idea of gathering things beneath one’s wings to protect them, even if they do double as tricks up a sleeve. it’s a good enough answer that allows qrow to uncross his arms and finally offer a crooked smile to the man, “…so fine. those are some pretty promises, General. i’ll hold ya to ‘em.”

he peeks around at more fancy clothes and listens to other uptight conversations happening in the background, “…although, somehow i doubt i’ll be able t’relax any more’n you can around here.” maybe if they ever come around with something a little stronger than champagne.

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“Different motives leading to same outcome for your conversation partner. But… Fair enough, I suppose.” James shrugs it off and his eyes follow Qrow’s dropped gaze to the glass. He almost wishes he could just drink and have a normal conversation tonight, but there are much more important things that happen to be worth the effort and wait. “I have a lot of curious and not necessarily friendly eyes on me recently. I won’t be surprised if you’d be first to find a nasty secret that would actually matter. Do me a favour though, and don’t try make money of it.” General’s smile grows a little at his own, very poor joke. “And if I ever break my word, you have an unofficial permission to break my nose. Well, at least try to.” He finally looks up to meet Qrow’s eyes again.

“I am hoping to get my chance to lower the guard soon after I’ll see off last official guests. It might not fit your methods of getting to know each other,” Good mood apparently means he is going to tease a bit about it. “but feel invited for a drink in headmaster’s office. My office.” He corrects himself.

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same outcome? what like building trust? Ironwood shouldn’t be worried about that either way, if he didn’t have to be. and it seems like he’s not, just wanted to point it out to be obnoxious. qrow frowns, looking back to the General, his eyes adding a pair to those which he just described, watching as the man tries to dig himself out of this hole.

“heh,” a smile finally cracks, “nah, i ain’t in the business of ransoming information anymore. won’t dig if ya don’t make me. although i might break your nose jus’ for fun someday.” or just to prove he can after that taunt.

it’s a poor joke, indeed, but Ironwood wraps compliments, an admission that he’s not perfect, and confidence that his history doesn’t weigh on him too heavily all into a small string of sentences. it displays all the charisma that’s gotten him this far, and if that didn’t win qrow over just a little, then his offer most certainly does. “hey, i never said i thought jawin’ over some drinks is a bad way to get t’know someone. i’ll join ya, if you’re really askin’. been awhile since i’ve been up t’that office.”

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James rises an eyebrow at not ransoming information anymore. That is an interesting matter and he notes to ask about it later.

“Please don’t. I tend to fight back.” James smiles, this time genuinely. Not going to lie, that would be something fresh in his routine and he does enjoy a good challenge. “I know you’re one of best huntsmen alive, no need to prove it. I might accept a sparring match, if you’d be interested, though.” In fact, he’d love that. He heard about Qrow’s combat skills, but testing them would be a different, much more exciting and informative story.

“Let me warn you, that it might look a little different than you remember. I haven’t really settled in yet.” That’s a little subtler than admitting that there’s a few boxes and empty space with a desk.

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charisma then turns to flattery, and the stroke to his ego makes qrow a touch less loaded. as does the General relaxing into himself, perhaps with the prospect of getting out of this crowd. humility softens stainless edges in smooth ways qrow could never carry himself. reveals a peek of the man behind the militant machine.

maybe Oz had a point about qrow provoking people less. but Ironwood spends his time and shares his drink, despite rough manners.

“tch, fine,” qrow tosses his head, and black, feathered hair fluffs in follow, “no hits unless we’re trainin’ or you’re askin’ for it.” vague assent given to his second offer for getting to know each other over a different type of round, too. not one to shy away from ways to get better at one of the few things qrow can do well.

they begin to walk, and Ironwood gives a warning qrow could care less about. doesn’t matter what it looks like in the office, as long as it contains the drink promised. with a quiet snort, red eyes roll at the very thought - settling in a far away concept to fathom for a vagabond since birth.

long legs trail behind stronger steps with a slouch, but qrow keeps up well enough to make it clear he knows his own way around. speeds up when they close in on the office, and reaches to open and hold the door for the other, assuming with nothing important unpacked it won’t be locked.

both presumptuous and polite all in one motion.

[flightofaqrow]

war stories (not)

qrow + James ( @caeloservare )

Why did this story leak now and why would James ever do that again-

“oh, no no no no no, Jimmy,” qrow snickers, “you got yerself inta this pickle, now y’gotta bite y’r way out of it!”

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“…”

Why did this story leak now and why would he ever do that again-

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“oh, no no no no no, Jimmy,” he snickers, “you got yerself inta this pickle, now y’gotta bite y’r way out of it!”

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“I might bite you, if you won’t quit it, Qrow.” As soon as he said, he realizes it most likely was a mistake. Oh well…

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“suit y’rself, but there’re better ways ‘a gettin’ your teeth broken, man.”

is that a warning of misfortune or a threat of consequence? who knows.

wait, was Jim just offering to bite qrow’s pickle?

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“Now you’re making it sound like a challenge.”

Oh he can and he will, he’s not afraid of Qrow and wouldn’t be their first rodeo wrestling match. Good he doesn’t know about the pickle yet.

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“brothers, James, not everythin’s a test of yer brawn and bullheaded-ness.”

qrow flexes and fists fingers of his right hand, the memory of one set of teeth already scarred into his skin burning beneath a wristband. he doesn’t care for another, especially as a mark of mere power and ego.

silly slights morph into an angry look on a friend’s face - less human, like qrow’s pushed some buttons and earned an automatic response; it makes the mood more than soured, and as a sober man he chooses to diffuse instead, “learn t’lighten up. have a laugh. thought we were tradin’ old war stories here, not tryna make new ones.”

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And so Qrow got defensive. What a change of pace.

“Loosen your pants, Qrow. We are trading old and quite embarrassing stories.” On one hand, he won what he wanted. On the other - he doesn’t really like how smile left his friend’s face.

“I’m annoyed, but still not interested in actually biting you. Nor anything else, for the record. I was a teen, give me a break.”

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“whoa, whoa, whoa! where’d that come from? you’re not gettin’ any embarassin’ stories about my pants, pal.”

actually he probably could. lots of qrow’s stories involve no pants. but he’s gotta, y’know, be mentally prepared for all that.

as if he’s ever prepared for anything except a mission or a drink.

“give me a break. y’gotta admit, it’s funny, teen or grown man. we all learn somehow, yeah?”

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“Why not? If you dig in my embarrassing past, that would be only fair to get a story back for trade. Besides your pants are infamous enough that rumors about them suddenly missing in not exactly appropriate moments reached even my ears.”

He sighs. “I’m not sure. It was stupid and… let’s say I got an earful from my father. I had no weapon, no plan, just did what I could at the moment. Can’t say it was a needed lesson, nor that it was any smart of me in the first place.”

[flightofaqrow]

❣ >;3c

my character's attraction to yours at this point in time

“tell ya what, Jim: when y’inevitably pass out from exhaustion, i’ll lay down next t’ya, so people will think we jus’ knocked each other out.”

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