#i intentionally made things dark to draw attention to the cape and eyes

[sealrock]

the dark divinity rides once again...

[pangtasias-atelier]

Since you enjoyed the fat!Hubert content I was wondering if you’d be willing to tackle a slime weight gain dabble for Hubert? Maybe he goes out to obtain a specimen and it doesn’t end well for him leading to weight gain shenanigans?

Of course!!! Not the most well versed in slime weight gain but I hope it still came out to your liking!

Thanks again for the Hubert & Ferdinand drawing;;;;

Kinda added Hubert x Ferdinand in the beginning cause I'm a dumb bitch for them.

_____________

"You'll be careful out there, right?" Ferdinand bidding Hubert goodbye, he refuses to let go of his hand, Ferdinand digging his heels into the ground.

"Of course. Now, I have a mission to accomplish," Sighing, Hubert's attempts at extracting himself from Ferdinand only makes him dig his heels further into the ground.

"Perhaps I'll aid you. Such a perilous mission-,"

"Ferdinand," Hubert commands, Ferdinand silencing from his tone. "I will be safe. I'm merely returning to one of the abandoned sites where Those Who Slither In The Dark once lived. They've all been eradicated, we've made sure of such a thing,"

"You're right," Shoulders slumping, Ferdinand lets go.

Hubert smiling, Ferdinand's own disappointment adorable to him, Hubert coughs to rid himself off his grin. "This is a mission directly from Lady Edelgard, as such it is imperative we follow her orders,"

"Forgive me for ruining a tender moment," Both Hubert and Ferdinand immediately fix their gaze to Edelgard, both standing up straight. "But the scouts have all returned fine. Hubert's prowess in magic makes him the best candidate to inspect the area. And I still require your assistance in other matters, Ferdinand," Praise unneeded for either of them, it still raises their morale, both hiding their cheer.

"Understood," Ferdinand nods his head. Turning to Hubert, he gives him a peck on the cheek. Both still blush, Edelgard witness to the act.

"With your leave, Empress," Bowing, Hubert mounts his horse, quickly dashing off into the night, his face red.

"Come Ferdinand, we still have our budget for the town projects to consider,"

"At once, Empress," Rushing ahead of Edelgard, his own face red, Ferdinand heads back to the throne room.

"Such fools," Never once expecting her two advisors move past a stage of animosity towards one another, their current relationship had surprised yet warmed Edelgard's heart, their tender affection leaving a faint smile on her face before she wipes it off, heading back.

Hubert rushing off, the cover of night offers him the best opportunity to rush to his destination. Despite wearing his normal outfit as advisor, with no one to spot him, there's no one to recognize him. Not that people would, Hubert's general disposition scaring off anyone who would even think of doing such a thing.

His destination dangerously close, Edelgard had been furious upon the realization that the Agarthans live so dangerously close to Enbarr. Reaching it before the sun even had the chance to come up, Hubert securely ties his horse, giving her an apple.

The entrance rehidden upon the leave of Edelgard's scouts, Hubert's intel easily points him to its location, Hubert removing the spell and entering inside.

No sunlight allowed to enter, the magical flames placed interspedly offer decent vision, the lights a different form compared to the magic of Adrestia.

Eyes scanning around the area, each new detail seems to offer a different take on magic, Hubert grinning at the possibilities. So enraptured in his own ideas, he doesn't catch the faint sound of slithering ooze in the distance.

Sensing a large magical energy different from that of the Agarthans, the slime trap meant to capture invaders and incapacitate them for interrogating had activated, the Agarthans fearful of other stealing their technology.

Starting from one side, Hubert keeps himself organized. His scribbles to replicate the spells keep him busy, his tests revealing strange new magic. The sound of strange running water catches his attention, Hubert quickly standing up.

A strange amorphous green blob in his vision, Hubert keeps his arm raised, magic ready. The slime slowly moving around, as if not even aiming for him, makes Hubert lower his guard. Taking a step forward, the slime doesn't react, instead continues its random movement. Intrigued by the object, a valuable asset to study, Hubert raises his hand to cast magic.

Sensing the magic once more, the slime surges forward, tackling Hubert down to the ground. Opening his mouth to cast, he gurgles as the slime enters his mouth. Grabbing it, Hubert's thrashing increases as his hands merely sink into the slime, unable to grab any sort of leverage on it.

A strangling sensation on his stomach, Hubert is unable to lift his head up, the slime's force keeping his head on the ground. His belt digging into his abdomen, Hubert lifts his hands to make sure. The effort more taxing than it should be, his tight gloves restrict his larger digits. His doughy arms press against his sleeves, the fabric ruffles and warps around them. His collar constricting his neck, Hubert digs into it, even tearing it out of desperation. His newfound double chin surging out, Hubert's stomach now complains again, his belt strangling it. His midsection sunk in from the belt, his upper portion of flab half covers it, his lower portion sagging down. Unable to reach and undo it, Hubert withstands the pain, shutting his eyes tight. His chest incredibly heavy, most of the weight comes from the remaining portion of slime, Hubert finding no solace in realizing it's not from his new breasts as they raise into the air. His jaw sore from being open for so long, it strains further as the slime continues entering him.

His stomach surges out as his belt suddenly gives, Hubert's wheezing coming out as gurgles. His pants button feel like they're drilling a hole. Unable to see his lower half, Hubert instead can feel it against the hard floor, his width slowly expanding and taking up more space. The fabric of his pants intentionally wide, only the button causes an issue for Hubert. Unlike the rest of his outfit however, his sleeves and shirt begin to tear, bits of his pale flesh poking out. A single tear spawning, the billowing flab tears them wider, even causing more to occur.

The slime barely left, Hubert finally gasps for air as it all goes down, his ragged gasps leading to a coughing fit. His fat jiggles from his coughing, Hubert groaning. No longer restrained, Hubert slowly lifts himself up, his arms and legs shaking.

So lethargic, Hubert wheezes, the heavy sensation of the slime coursing throughout his body. Burping, he places a fist over his mouth, blushing. Reaching for his pants, Hubert immediately unbuttons them, sighing as his fat flows out.

Able to finally look at himself, his chin squishes against his neck as he does so; Hubert grimaces. "This is," Grabbing himself, Hubert feels the heft of his body. "an unfortunate development," Unclasping his cape, Hubert drapes it over himself. Taking a step, his thighs nearly topple him, Hubert placing a hand on the wall. Purposefully swinging his leg around, Hubert finds that they still chafe, his waddling pathetic. His ass shaking behind him, he merely shakes his head.

Needing to return to Enbarr and report his findings, the outburst and shock from the others damper his will to return. Hubert's jiggling body only worsens his spirits.

[tophatsnap]

Nothing But a Man Ch 14

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Webber

Christine

“Who is this? Who is he?” Raoul questioned, outraged. “What is going on?”

“Raoul... let me explain...” I turned to Erik. “What are you doing?!” I could not believe that he could have been so careless; it was not in his nature.

“Explain..? Christine I do not know where you can begin?” His voice was rising in volume. “Is... is that the mirror? Wha...?” I knew that I had to keep him quiet lest he draw more attention to the situation. I shot another glance at Erik, my eyes beckoning him to answer the question I had previously asked. He simply stared back at me, unblinking. I could see no remorse or regret whatsoever in his expression. In fact, his body language expressed the opposite; he seemed almost pleased with himself. His arms were folded across his chest beneath his cape; his stance was confident, proud. It was as if he wanted to be seen.

“Raoul. Please, come inside...” I said, gently pushing him inside the room. He stared at the man behind the mirror, stupefied but obeyed my request.

I didn’t know where to begin. I had not planned on revealing mine and Erik’s relationship... friendship... courtship, whatever it was for a long time to come... if ever. For the life of me I could not think why Erik would do such a thing. It must have been intentional; he did not make mistakes like that.

Once Raoul had stepped inside I closed the door quietly and locked it once more. I walked up to Erik and stood before him.

“What are you doing!?” I whispered.

He just stared down at me, the corner of his mouth now upturned in a smirk.

“Christine...?” Raoul called in frustration. “What is going on? Who is he?” I turned around to see him pointing at the smirking man behind me. How quickly Erik had changed to the Phantom in the presence of someone else.

What could I say? The truth was that Raoul already knew who this man was... or had at least heard about him.

“Well?” Raoul demanded.

A deep voice behind me answered.

“You know very well who I am, Monsieur.”

Raoul stared at the man behind me.

“I... I was addressing Christine, if you don’t mind.” He sneered. I heard Erik scoff behind me.

I sighed.

“Raoul... this...” I knew that I was going to regret speaking but I wasn’t left with another choice. “This is my... my teacher.”

“Teacher?” Raoul questioned, his features contorting. “You told me that you were in contact with... a tutor; your... ‘Angel of Music’ but I always thought that it was part of some fantasy?”

“Who is this man really?”

“You are right. It was a fantasy... but this man is my tutor. That is the truth.”

“...And more.” The deep voice behind me added smugly.

I spun around and glared at him.

“This is not possible.” Raoul stated. He attempted to peer around me. “Do my eyes deceive me? What... is behind that mirror?”

“Nothing that is any concern of yours.” Erik replied, stepping over the threshold and sliding the mirror shut behind him.

“I think that it is my concern... Monsieur.” Raoul stepped forward slightly. Erik made to step past me but I put my arm in front of him.

“Don’t.” I whispered.

“What am I to make of this, Christine? Is this man your... are you courting him or... something of the like?” He squinted at me for a few moments before I realised that I, like Erik was almost completely shrouded in darkness. That was why Raoul was more concerned with the fact that I may have been courting another man and less concerned with who the man was. “I must say...” He continued. “It certainly isn’t proper for you to be entertaining strange men in a dressing room if that isn’t the case.”

I turned to Erik, knowing that he would retort.

“Yes, Christine.” He spoke. “Your friend is correct. It isn’t proper to entertain strange men at this hour. Allow me to remove him for you.” He moved to step forward, as did Raoul.

“Erik... don’t!” I pushed against his chest in order to keep him in place and it seemed to work. Of course, he wasn’t really trying to get past me; simply humouring me. It was my words which held him where he was, hidden in the darkness. I held out my other hand to keep Raoul at bay but he stopped a few feet away.

“Well?” Raoul began. “Are you courting this person..?” He was thoroughly confused.

Erik looked down at me. The smug grin was still upon his face but his eyes were willing me to answer Raoul; challenging me to do it... to say the words out loud or he would.

“Y... Yes. We are courting.” I stammered. I shot a glance up at Erik who was now smiling triumphantly and staring straight ahead at Raoul once more. I knew how much these words must have meant to him, but I couldn’t help but find myself slightly irritated with how he was acting; as if it were all for Raoul. As if I were on show... simply a possession. My face fell slightly but he did not seem to notice.

Raoul dropped his head slightly, and squinted in my direction once more.

“Step into the light, Monsieur.” He began. “So that I may at least set eyes upon my challenger.”

“With pleasure.” Erik retorted.

“Erik...” I began, pushing him once more as I looked up at him. “What are you doing?” I had done my very best to keep Erik in the shadows of the room, to keep him hidden. I knew of the rumours and stories circulating the Opera about the Phantom. He had been a legend; a threat since I had arrived as a child and though many details about his appearance remained nothing thanvague hearsay, that mask was a constant. That was the one attribute all witnesses would attest to seeing. I knew that once Raoul caught sight of that stark, white mask he would know exactly who it was he was dealing with. I knew that the law was still very much at large in the Opera house, stopping by daily in aid of their investigation of Buquet’s murder... and now I knew that Erik was the culprit. Yes, this reminded me of the fear I had felt upon first hearing Erik’s confession and a large part of me was still ill at ease. But another part of me; the larger part felt fear for Erik. I knew what happened to convicted murderers in Paris and when I pictured the gallows my breath caught in my chest. Suddenly I realised that I would do anything it took to prevent such an event. Suddenly I became aware of the priority...

It was him.

Upon hearing Raoul’s challenge, Erik simply smiled at me, removed my obstructing hand and stepped in front of me. Before I could speak another word in protest he was standing before Raoul, clearly illuminated. Raoul gasped. To my horror, Raoul recognised the unique accessory immediately.

“You... That mask... You...” Raoul stammered. Erik nodded.

“Yes.” He said.

“The... the Opera Ghost... It can’t be.”

“It is.” His voice had now changed in tone; it was menacing and dark. I didn’t like it.

“Christine, come! Get away from him! He murdered Buquet!”

“I know...” I said quietly, flinching at the words. Erik looked back at me, attempting to read my expression.

“You... you know? Christine... perhaps... you aren’t thinking straight? Has he done something to you? Put you under some sort of spell?”

“I have done nothing of the sort, Vicomte.” Erik spoke with a click of his tongue, his patience apparently wearing thin.

“How do you know who I am?” Raoul demanded. A question which received a booming laugh from Erik in response... but it was far removed from the warm chuckle I had previously heard; this was harsh, cynical and echoed of dread and foreboding. It sent shivers up my spine.

“This is my Opera House. Do you honestly think that I would allow myself to be unaware of the goings on under this roof? That I would leave myself oblivious? Of course I know who you are; the new patron.” He spat out the last word. “I see all. I watch everybody. I watch you, walking around as if you own the place... spending time with my Christine.”

“Your Christine?” Raoul looked to me once more, holding out his hand. “Christine, come... quickly.”

“Do not tell her what to do boy. It may be the last command you ever make.”

“Do not threaten me!” Raoul challenged, pushing past me and standing before the Phantom. “I do not care who you are.... you...”

In a swift movement Erik had taken hold of Raoul’s collar and was now mere inches from him.

“YOU...” He began. “Would do well to care who I am.”

“Stop, Erik! Let him go!” I yelled.

“He is lucky that all I have I have hold of is his collar.” Erik replied through gritted teeth.

“Please.”

Erik turned to me, his eyes searching mine in disbelief. I knew that I had to rephrase what I had just said lest he take it the wrong way. I could not risk being without him for another week... not for another moment.

“Why?” he asked, still searching my eyes.

“Because... I wish it. Please.” I said, placing a placating hand on the arm that now threatened to lift Raoul clear off the ground. Erik’s eyes seemed to soften slightly and his grip seemed to loosen. “Raoul. Both of you... can we not have a civilised conversation?”

“You want civility, Christine? With him?”

“Raoul...” I warned. I could not believe that in spite of his knowledge, Raoul was intentionally challenging Erik. Surely he did not realise what he was doing. “Raoul, don’t.”

Erik’s vice-like grip tightened once more. Gently I touched his hand and looked at him. He had to know how I felt about violence... how it had threatened to tear us apart mere weeks ago. My eyes pleaded until once more, his softened. Soon he had released my friend and taken a step back. He stared at his hands with regret; perhaps his hasty actions had been a painful reminder of his mistakes and the weeks we had spent apart as a result of them.

Thankfully Raoul stepped back also. Perhaps both men were only obeying me due to their affections but at this point I did not care; I did not care what it took for I did not wish for either of them to be hurt as a result of tempers and emotions.

To my surprise Raoul’s expression did not change. He did not show an inkling of gratitude.

“So this is the way it is, Christine?” He asked, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Don’t look at me like that Raoul. Please. Nothing has changed. I still wish to spend time with you and...”

“In aid of what?” He spat. “These past few weeks...” He stared at me for a moment before dropping his head. “Meant something different to you than they did to me. Clearly.” He gestured towards Erik who was standing directly behind me as if I would change my mind and run to Raoul if he did not.

“I am... sorry.” I said.

Raoul looked up and immediately I could see that he had been fighting back tears.

“Him, Christine? Why did it have to be him? He is not right for you. He... is not right for anyone... he is dangerous!”

Erik stepped forward once more.

“Careful, Monsieur.” He warned. Raoul flinched before glancing at me; pain was visible in his eyes. He took a deep breath and turned toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I called. He couldn’t be leaving. I knew that I owed him more of an explanation than I had given him. He needed to understand. I needed to know that he would be alright.

I needed to know whether he would keep my secret...

“What does it matter?” He replied softly before opening the door and walking through it. It closed behind him with a dull click, and Erik and I were left alone once more.

“What have I done?” I cursed, holding my head in my hands.

“This is not your fault.” Erik began, walking up to me and placing a hand on my shoulder. “I was the one who revealed myself.”

“Yes. Why!?” I asked, turning around and pushing him slightly.

He stared at me, taken aback. I turned away once more.

“How could I have done this to him?”

“Why do you care so much, Christine? Why do you care so much about him?”

“He is my friend!”

“Is that all?” He challenged.

“Yes that is all!”

“Well then why didn’t you make that clear?”

“I...” I opened my mouth to continue before realising that he was absolutely right. That was why I was so upset. Over the weeks I had been well aware of his intentions but had not addressed them. Therefore, the fault was mine. Of course I valued Raoul’s friendship but I knew very well why I was in fact spending so much time with him. I was using him. I did not want to admit it but at the core of my being I knew it to be true. I was using him to fill the void left by Erik. And now... with Erik back in my life, would I want to see Raoul? I had to tell myself that I would. I would have to make the effort if only to prove to myself that I was wrong.

“I... I was lost when you were gone.” I said. A feeble attempt to explain my heinous actions. “I turned to him... and I found that I enjoyed his company too much to tell him the truth. I... needed him. I needed someone in your absence. And so... I used him.” It felt better to have said it aloud.

“Ah.” Was Erik’s reply. I turned to face him once more.

“You must think me a terrible person.”

“My dear. After what I have done, I am hardly the one to cast aspersions. It was not the best way to have handled things... but I understand your motivation.” I walked to him and took his hands in my own.

“I’m sorry to have blamed you.”  I said. He laughed.

“The fault was mine. I am willing to take the blame for it.”

“But... I blamed you for everything. I’m angry with you for revealing yourself. But not because... I didn’t want Raoul to see you. It was because I couldn’t come to terms with the truth about the time I had spent with him. All along I was aware of his intentions... I didn’t want to believe that I could be so selfish.”

“We can all be selfish at times. It is in our nature.”

“Yes.” I smiled. Surprised at his maturity and apparent tranquillity given what had happened. “At least now I will not have to worry about what to say to him if he proposes.”

“I should hope not!” He replied. I laughed and rested my head on his chest.

“And we should not forget the reality behind what you have done tonight.” I said sternly, looking up at him. He shook his head.

“They will not discover me, Christine.”

“I worry for you.” I said, dropping my head.

“Why is that, my dear?” He asked, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

“You know very well why.” I said, slightly petulant.

Erik took a deep breath and smiled before pulling me into an embrace.

“Do not trouble yourself, Christine. I have told you. They will not find me. It is impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible...” I replied, receiving a warm, somewhat condescending chuckle from Erik.

“Listen... even if they could figure out how to open this mirror, they would get lost in the labyrinth of tunnels beyond. Trust me.”

With that he released me and flipping his tail coat out behind him, sat down on his favoured divan before me. Something about that action had always fascinated me... and seeing Erik do it was almost mesmerising. He reached out and took my hands in his own.

“It will be alright.” He said. “The fact that you worry for my safety in such a way truly moves me, I must say.” Then, to my utter surprise he gently, apprehensively pulled me onto his lap. The fact that he felt so comfortable in performing such an action both surprised and delighted me. I knew that what little he had experienced of romance, he had experienced with me. And yet, he seemed to learn with the eagerness of a small child. It seemed as though, while still apprehensive and forever doubting himself, his confidence was growing with every touch, with every action I accepted; every advance I willingly made. “It will be alright.” He repeated, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me down to lie against him. I smiled, wanting to dismiss the conversation at hand so that I could lie in his embrace and simply be... But I could not.

“But...”

“What?” He asked; his voice soft and husky. It seemed that he too wanted nothing more than to lie back and lose himself.

“But why did you have to show yourself?” I asked, wrapping my arm around his waist and pulling him close. The thought of him being taken away after so much only made me want him to be as close as possible.

“Are... are you ashamed of me?” He asked after a few seconds of thought.

“No!” I lifted my head up and looked at him. “Of course not! It’s just that it was all... so perfect. And now... I worry for you. Why did you do it, Erik?”

“Christine...” He began, sitting up slightly. “I thought it obvious. I did it because I was proud. You told me that you loved me. ME... of all people. Still, I cannot conceive what I must have done, who I must have tricked to deserve such happiness. But I did not want to hide it. It was... somewhat foolish, I will admit. But by the time I realised, he had already seen me. And I do not regret it. It does not matter what happens to me because of what I have done... I will never regret it. I am proud to call you mine Christine Daae and no one has the power to stop me from saying it.”

I simply stared at him for a moment before leaning in and placing my lips upon his. He eagerly accepted my advance and ever so tenderly, placed his hands on the sides of my face. I smiled into his mouth as I felt his stubble against my chin, finding it... in a way; attractive.

“But... do you think that... Raoul will alert the authorities?” I asked in between kisses. He inhaled sharply as my hand travelled up the front of shirt and lingered at the top button. I wanted nothing more than to explore what I had seen earlier but I knew that it was not the time.

“Yes...” He replied, his lips upon my neck. I pulled away abruptly.

He gave me a quizzical look.

“’Yes?’ What do you mean yes?”

“Raoul will go to the authorities. It will be the first thing he will do.” He looked away and inclined his head slightly. “Of course he is doing it for your safety which... is valiant I suppose. But he has claimed that I am of danger to you which only serves to anger me...” He looked back at me. “You know that I would never hurt you, Christine. Don’t you?”

“Erik, what are we to do?”

“I told you. They will not find me.” He smiled. “But... I suppose that we should be cautious. I will not be able to see you as often as I should like.”

I rolled my eyes inwardly. More time apart... I lay back against him once more and took his hand in mine.

“I understand.” I said as I began tracing his fingers where they lay just as he had done to mine earlier in his home.

“Do not fret, Môn Ange.” He whispered, placing a kiss atop my head. I smiled against his neck. His words were soothing to some degree... but I knew that over the next few days I would do nothing but fret. He had come to mean far too much to me...

“Hold me.” I said quietly. And with that he wrapped both arms around me, once more enveloping me in his warmth, his heartbeat, his scent. The steady rise and fall of his chest threatened to put me to sleep and I wanted nothing more than to accede to the temptation but I knew that I could not. Not now. Too much was at stake.

“I could fall asleep here.” He mumbled.

“As could I...” I replied.

“But we cannot.” He said.

“No.”

“I should go.” He suggested. I could hear the reluctance in his voice.

“I wish you didn’t have to...”

“As do I.” He smiled. “...But I will see you again soon.”

“Promise?”

“It pains me to be away from you, Christine. I will do everything in my power to see you as soon as I possibly can, rest assured.”

“When?” I demanded with a pout.

“I cannot plan such things.” He smiled. “Tomorrow would be ideal but I cannot promise you anything. I cannot pay you a visit as any other suitor could. I must be strategic. Especially now.”

“I know.” I sighed. ”It’s just that after not seeing you for such a long time... and then...”

“This.” He finished, reading my find; referring to our intimacy. He placed another kiss atop my head. “It will be difficult.”

“Yes.”

“But know that I am always watching... I hope that does not seem unsettling. I say it with the most honourable intentions.”

“I know you do.” I said. Reaching up and placing a small kiss on his lips. He began to return the kiss before pulling away.

“No... I have to go.” He said standing up. “I won’t be able to stop myself.” He said with a laugh.

Reluctantly, I stood up as well and walked him to the mirror.

“Don’t wait too long.” I said as he opened the mirror and stepped through. I watched in awe as he stepped over the threshold and into the darkness. “How do you do that... by the way?”

He smiled knowingly at me.

“It’s a secret, I’m afraid.”

“Erik!” I pushed him playfully. He said nothing, only stared at me with a smug expression on his face.

“Are you really not going to tell me?” I asked genuinely. He sighed, feigning boredom before speaking.

“If I must!” He teased. “There is a small lever on the left side. It is extremely hard to find unless you know what you are searching for.”

“Ah.” I replied in acknowledgement. “Well... I hope you are right.”

I really did.

-

I made my way up to my sleeping quarters, a smile on my face only to be approached by Madame Giry just outside the door.

“Child, are you alright? I was so very worried for you. Did you find him?”

“Yes! Yes, I did.” How thoughtless I had been. She had been the reason I had left Erik’s lair in the first place and yet the thought had completely slipped my mind. “I found him and... I told him how I felt.”

“And what did he say?” She asked, taking my hands. I had never seen her so animated.

“He returned my feelings. We explained ourselves and... sorted everything out. Everything is fine now.”I smiled. “Only...”

“Only what?”

“Only... as I was leaving... Raoul saw him.”

Her face fell.

Raoul

Was all of this actually happening? Was I trapped inside some kind of opium induced stupor? I could not believe what I had seen; who I had seen standing before me.

I reached into my pocket and squeezed the object I had hoped to bestow upon Christine that night; an engagement ring. How could I have been so wrong? How could I have misread her signs so monumentally? I couldn’t have. A woman simply did not spend that time with a man without intentions. It was not regular. He was not regular. He had to have done something to her to cause her to act in such a way. I had heard stories of his... powers; his abilities. It was quite a real possibility that Christine had agreed to his farce of a courtship while she was not of sound mind.

I had to free her. I had to make sure. She meant too much to me for me to simply give up and accept the strange truth; that she had fallen in love with the Opera Ghost. And if she had, I would put a stop to it. I would put a stop to it for her own safety, for her own sanity. Surely she knew not what she did... Surely...

I unlocked the dressing room door and stepped back, allowing the troupe of policemen I had summoned to enter before myself. If anyone was able to find a way into that monster’s home, it was the Gendarmerie.

“This was the mirror, Vicomte?”

“Yes.” I said.

I sat back and allowed them to work their magic.

He would be found.

[flightofaqrow]

‘getting to know you’ game

qrow x Lifa Hakon [incomplete]

Lifa looked around the room, before she inched over to her bunk and grabbed her rucksack from under it. “We could go, if you’re willing to hike for a bit and be ready for a scrap if there’s Grimm or wolves. Or bears. Or really, really angry owls. It’s worth the trip and it’s the perfect time of day to start the journey! It’ll be dark by the time we get to the lake and that’s the best time to be there.”

“i asked for adventure, didn’t i?” qrow opens his arms wide and excited. this could all go terribly, terribly wrong for him at any time, and probably will. it always does. but for once, he thinks just maybe it might be fun enough to be worth it.

just for one damn night let him not ruin it.

...

“Do you know this game? The goal is to trap the fox where it can’t escape or eat one of the birds. If there’s no space behind a bird, it can’t be eaten but if there is, the fox can jump over and gobble it up. I’ll play the fox?”

“…so better for the birds to work in pairs.” a universal truth in qrow’s life, “s’this mean i get t’call ya a fox now, since you said it first?”

“You can, but I’ll be calling you Scare-Qrow if you do.”

Lifa takes a sign of bad luck and changes it to something a bit silly, that hangs out in an open field, and is meant to protect… “kinda like that one actually.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“this is your dorm and i just came in and ruined everything, didn’t i?”

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Lifa stared at the scattered papers and folders that she had organized in a filing system all her own, now in chaos on the floor after a lanky fellow student burst inside and collided with her just as she was going to leave. Her fingers twitched in despair and irritation, before she slowly took a deep breath, turned to face Qrow and grabbed a fistful of his vest. Not violently, not too hard. Just enough to firmly get his attention. “I’ll hide you from whatever it is but you are helping me clean this up. Understood?”

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qrow ruins everything. he does. of course it’s just his luck he picks the room of the pretty girl from the roof to try and duck into.

and that there would be some sort of elaborate shelving unit that definitely didn’t seem standard. and that his awesome cape would get caught on the stupid doorknob, and send his gangly limbs flying into said shelves. and she’d be standing right there.

is it really so bad when he already gets to see her, faces nearly touching, yanking at his clothing…? ah, well. yeah. it is. when all her hard work is in chaos on the floor and he still looks a damn fool.

he faces away, ready for a scolding, ready to be passed off to Raven and the teacher she alerted. but none of it comes. seriously?

qrow nods in agreement. he’d be shuffling some papers together already if he weren’t, uh, otherwise restrained. “man, i knew you were cool.”

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“Damned right I’m cool!”

Lifa has lifted him ever so slightly off of his toes before she let him go, realizing she might be a little overzealous. Despite the circumstances, she was glad to see the nice boy from the roof again, even if he was going to see her messy desk…Oh, shit. Family pictures.

Lifa quickly gathered up some papers and threw them onto the desk, taking the moment to snap the frame face down before he got a glimpse of her and her father in full regalia, posing for her fifteenth birthday. All around it were tiny tools, clockwork parts, scraps of metal…

The papers were blueprints, for weapon and armor designs but also a few charcoal sketches of woodland scenes, marked with lines of simplistic colored pencil to represent the presence of evergreen needles and a broad frozen like and a crumbling cabin. Lifa turned to face the mess once more, tightening her jaw. “Ugh, they’re all out of order…what did you do that’s got you on the run, anyway? Hide a toad in someone’s boot?”

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qrow knows she’s hiding something. they’ve all done that frantic scatter at some point when suddenly intrude upon. however, he thinks little of it, lumping similar ultimately unimportant reasons in with those same memories. not that he isn’t curious, of course. but he’s not one to press when she’s already doing him a kindness.

not to mention, what he can see is fascinating enough in itself. landscapes… weapon and gadget ideas… not bad ones, either. the roughness of her hands make more sense if she’s a tinkerer on top of a fighter. really cool.

“heh. somethin’ like that. switched my sister’s tea with some of the weird grasses outside. but forget that. …is all this stuff for real?” he holds up some of the drawings he’s gathered, and points to one of the frozen forests in particular, “i mean, can we go here? is this what ya were talkin’ about last time?”

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“I’m going to wager a guess that you are the younger brother,” Lifa mused, since that sounded like something Runi would absolutely do, with perhaps a more devious twist. As she laid things out to survey and put them back in their place, she smiled softly. It took the edge off the need to laugh.

She glanced back at him, in the middle of lining two see through papers together so one layer of armor completed the other. A method that helped her better plan how to complete the final result. “You mean the lake?” She asked, rubbing the soft paper between her fingers and enjoying the pleasant smell of it and fresh ink. “I mean, yes. The lake is real but the plans are all theoretical, or at least all except the shield. I made that for the Vytal fight…it’s north east of the city, if you really want to go but it’s not exactly a stroll in the park to get there.”

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“by two minutes that she constantly holds over my head,” he says with equal amounts annoyance and affection. he crawls around on the floor, looking for anything that my have snuck beneath furniture while she starts arranging things back in proper order. it takes a second a second for it to click, but he got there. “…you got one too, then?”

stragglers collected, he stands next to her and looks over her work. it’s all very clever. he can see the thought process and enhancements. “okay, Lifa, you got me. i’m impressed.” he crosses arms over his chest and grins, as if he had any authority to be appraising. “most of the students stop after building their own weapon. this is certainly next level.” meaning, it looked like she enjoyed further improving her own equipment, and designing even beyond that. for other people too perhaps?

he shrugs, drums his fingers on his arms, “s’too bad about the lake, then. anythin’ interesting within reach? i do need to avoid Raven for awhile…”

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“A brother? Yes,” Lifa ran her fingers along one frame that she pushed over and lifted it upright again, since it had nothing incriminating to reveal. She missed the northern lights and smells of her home, but couldn’t not miss anything more than her family and her scruffy haired know-it-all little brother.A boy not more than ten, with lots of tawny brown messy hair seated in a wheel chair and seeming like he was about to lob the wrench in his hand at her. “His name is Runi. He’s ten.” Impressed? Suspicion lurked in her eyes but she had to remember he didn’t know who she was. Any respect he had, she had earned it by her own merit. She moved a lock of hair behind her ear, since most of the red locks were piled in a hastily woven bun at the back of her head out of her eyes so she could work. “Thank you, that’s– that means a lot…My brother and I’ve always made these sorts of things together. He’s the brain, I’m the hands.” Lifa looked around the room, before she inched over to her bunk and grabbed her rucksack from under it. “Don’t be disappointed, we could go, if you’re willing to hike for a bit and be ready for a scrap if there’s Grimm or wolves. Or bears. Or really, really angry owls. It’s worth the trip and it’s the perfect time of day to start the journey! It’ll be dark by the time we get to the lake and that’s the best time to be there.”

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one tidbit more of personal information reveals itself, then. her brother has wings of beautiful feathers, even if his body doesn’t seem like it can make very good use of them. that makes Lifa half faunus. which changes absolutely nothing of qrow’s opinion, but is interesting to know.

“heh, that makes sense. i remember your hands,” qrow winks, waits just a beat. “Runi looks just s’cool as you,” now he’s intentionally laying it on thick, but the undertone of appreciation for family weaves into the flattery anyway. he’d die for Raven, kill for Raven, almost and has, respectively, and he trusts the same from her. they acquired their weapons separately, but have gone through many a process side by side. he can’t imagine ever not having her there. he opens his mouth to ask if it’s hard for her to be here without him, but stops, and only nods in acknowledgement. maybe that’s too personal. maybe he’s wrong when she’s moved on from the subject so quickly. maybe he shouldn’t make her think of that kind of thing and ruin the mood for basically attempting to ask her on a date.

…or she could make the offer and already be grabbing her things. honestly, she’s adorable. “i asked for adventure, didn’t i?” he opens his arms wide and excited, “gimme a tick to grab Harbinger and let my team lead know i’ll be out again. i’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

this could all go terribly, terribly wrong for him at any time, and probably will. it always does. but for once, he thinks just maybe it might be fun enough to be worth it.

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“My hands?” She blinked and looked down at them, noticing the scars around knuckles that nicked edges and hot surfaces when she was too in the moment to be careful and didn’t notice her injury until much later. By the time she looked back up at him, some of her freckles had faded under a new blush. Is he…? No. No way. But at the mention of adventure, she smiled the tiniest bit and began pulling her blanket off the bed, rolling the handmade quilt up tight and shoving it into her pack along with a few snacks she pulled from her desk drawer. “Harbinger? That’s very fitting, for a boy named for the crow. I’ll get Forsvarer and Utholdnet. See you there!” By the time she got to the courtyard, she had redone her hair in a more casual style, braided around the top in a pretty manner but tied off loosely at the bottom so it trailed down her back. Snow was slowly falling and Lifa was just making sure her oil lantern was secure to her pack side, her eyes darting around for Qrow’s presence.

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he sneaks in the shadows, in all the darkness of his namesake and skills, just for fun. he sees Lifa, notices the charm in literally letting her hair down, and also suddenly feels severely under-packed with only Harbinger and a blanket roll strapped to his back for the occasion, but he’s always traveled light. qrow is used to finding what he needs where he goes, or simply going without. …or losing things, or having them be more trouble than they’re worth… he doesn’t give himself time to dwell, pursues further in his game of how close he can get before she senses him, eventually stepping into the light slightly to the side and behind her.

“ready to go?”

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Lifa turns towards him and with her lopsided grin, she pulls her deer skin hood up, lined with white fur, and nods. “Ready and eager.” And seeming none too surprised at his sudden presence. Things lurking in the shadows? Child’s play for her. Lifa leads him through busy city streets, knowing the way to her destination easily as she had been there frequently enough to have it memorized. It was quite a trek through civilization alone, so she passed the time on their way to the border with the only chatter she could think of. “So what sort of weapon is Harbinger? A sword? You seem like a swordsman.” Weapons. The first subject that came to mind. “One handed, if I had to guess.”

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well, he tried. good practice, anyway. at least she doesn’t rub the lack of surprise terribly in his face. admittedly, he’d be disappointed if other students were as easy targets as any old passerby.

and he has one more piece of information about her skills for the tournament. qrow plans to hold onto his secrets as long as he can. this is almost immediately tested, even in the middle of qrow’s wide red eyes trying to take in the city of atlas. everything is steely and it feels like rain-washed glare even on a sunny day. it’s not the most comfortable or familiar of environments, sterile, almost, but it has its own beauty.

he lets his head lull to the side, smirking, lifting an accusatory brow, “Sunshine, you’re really just gonna straight up ask a guy how he handles his sword?” a crude twist of implication, but he’s a teenage boy with adventuring and a pretty redhead on his mind. he turns to start walking sideways, and flips up his cape to reveal the longsword in its entirety. he lets that answer for itself, and even though the small rig of gears could easily suggest to someone with Lifa’s engineering skills that there’s more going on, he says nothing else further. they can geek out after the fights. “…mostly one-handed. buuuut there’s also a lotta things i like using two for.”

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Was the architecture impressive? Yes. Did Lifa like it? No. It lacked something personal and homey for her, no personal connection or familiarity for her to appreciate other than the engineering perspective. When they finally passed the city into the snowy fields, she breathed a deep breath of relief and took it all in, the open horizon caressing something in her soul and reminding it that it was alright. “Well– yes. How else would I learn about your method of combat?” Lifa looked at him quizzically, even tilted her head to the side in a manner so innocent that it was hard to tell if she was messing with him or really didn’t get it.

At his show of weaponry, Lifa her flexed arm in the sleeve of plate that covered from the shoulder to the fingers in a gauntlet and all at once, it showered down to knit into plate sections and spiraled out around the back of her hand to form a heavy circle shield, meaning the sleeve couldn’t be light either. “Interesting you forgo a shield. I was always taught if you have to choose between a blade or shield, take the shield. Did you fight before the academy?”

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a grin returns all the wider when he looks to Lifa again. qrow has seen and done enough playing dumb to know pure innocence at face value. faking it lacked the curiosity clearly on display. oh boy, what is he getting into. trying to get into.

… calm down, qrow. when leading flirtations fall flat anyway, it’s time to simply join the conversation. he lets his cape fall to drape along his back once more, but keeps his hands at the back of his head and laces fingers together, elbows happily raised while he walks and thinks.

“well, mosta the time i find that nothin’ ‘learns’ ya better’n actually trading a few blows instead’a talkin’ about it. but your team made it t’the next round too, right? so we got more of that comin’ up.”

he watches the deployment of her equipment, more impressed by how smoothly it executed in both inner workings and user experience than by the piece itself. his gaze follows along up her arm for eye contact once more, offering a serious expression, “been fightin’ all my life in one way or another. …an’ i was taught if you need a shield, ya ain’t fast or clever enough.”

well, and Harbinger is wide enough to block shots as well as any shield if positioned right, but again, she can find that out for herself. “… so the people who taught ya were more the defensive type, huh?”

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“Indeed. We fight well together, but that’s about all we do together.” Was that bitterness in her voice? Maybe. Scorned by those she was chosen to lead for all her time spent away from home, for the first time in her young life, was something that she couldn’t help but stew over. Lifa lifted her shield slightly to look over the runes she had painstakingly engraved around its rim and took comfort in its familiar presence, like an old mentor showing her the way. “That may be true, but words still have their merit…The shield is a symbolic choice. Almost all of our warriors use them.” The crunch of snow was the only noise for a moment, as Lifa absently rubbed the shoulder of her shield arm, recalling one of many scars she wasn’t quick enough to avoid.

“Ever since I can remember, Grimm clawed at our gates. I didn’t want to hide behind the barricade and hope someone else kept my family safe. I wanted to be one of the shields protecting them. Hence…” and she lifted it with a tired smile, feeling her point was made, as she gestured her fingers around the runes and translated them. “ ‘Fight because you love what is behind you, not for the hatred of the enemy before you.’ If you’re using a shield to hide, you’re dead or worse; useless. But fret not, I also have an ax to take the limbs off any Beowulf too bold for its own good.”

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finally, all the scenery hits qrow. trees stand taller than he’s ever seen sprawling in more packed patterns. the air freshens, the sounds quiet, save for their footsteps and Lifa telling her story. he realizes quickly that his boots are not made for this kind of snow, but at least he has steady feet, most of the time. Lifa acts confident in the direction they are headed, and he’s glad.

lips scrunch into a pout at her obvious resentment, but he doesn’t push it. they differ there, too. everything the tribe did, they did together. even when physically separated, each group was a cog in the wheel of the same goal. survival. and survival when they had no gates.

she has his full attention when she starts talking about being a protector. “that’s… all very noble.”

he’s staring at her, nearly in wonder, while lost in his own head at the same time. another difference. he and Raven came not with hatred nor love in their hearts. simply to learn to kill. because that was their place. their job. maybe it could fall into the category of loving the ‘family’ that would be behind him, but. did he? did he really love any of them besides Raven, who would always be by side? he shakes his head, covers the gesture with a chuckle at her last comment.

“i bet you would. much as i’d like to, i hope i don’t have t’see that today. …so where is all the ‘we’ and ‘our’, anyway? besides ‘not atlas city’, i mean. sounds like the kinda place that’d have a name.”

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“I’m grateful you think so,” Lifa turned her face towards his and smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with it. He was a good listener or perhaps he was just waiting for her to stop talking…No, she believed the first thought. He had that sharpness to his gaze that said he didn’t give his attention to anything he didn’t want to and that was something she quite liked about him already. Lifa walked strangely in the snow. Toe heel, toe heel, toe heel. Piercing the icy surface carefully with the point of her boot so her foot slid into the powder almost silently. But as she noticed the way her was looking at her, with all that garnet intensity, Lifa for once felt compelled to turn her own gaze away and that was not something she did lightly. With her free hand, she reached above to run her fingers along the lush green needles above. “Of course it has a name, it’s just not one people in Atlas respect much. As for if we’ll meet any Grimm…Hush for a few minutes and I’ll be able to tell you.” Was she purposely dodging the question? Perhaps. As they ventured deeper into the wood, she slowed down and turned her face up to the treetops before lifting her hands to her mouth and emitting a high, pure series of sung notes. It echoed high into the air and Lifa gestured for him to wait. Distantly, there was the flutter of wings and chatter of birds in response. Some even emerged from the branches to investigate them with curious dark eyes and Lifa smiled and pointed to them, “See? No Grimm close by.”

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when she stops holding the connection of their smiles, he does too. he’s nothing if not observant, watching her feet instead. an attempt at walking the same way shifts balance, and he has to continue looking down. the snow gets thicker and thicker as told by how much the rocks and underbrush becomes buried. she wasn’t kidding about it being a hike.

if not observant, then call him too curious for his own good. he looks back at her with a quizzical lift to his features. had Lifa just answered the question, qrow could have been satisfied. skirting around it made it a far, far more interesting topic. he’ll drop it, but now he’d have to dig and find out not only what the name is, but why she wouldn’t want to say. surely someone around the school would know.

speaking of dropping, somewhere between the new footwork, the shifted attention, trying to bring up an argument about being hushed when he was already quiet, and likely his damn curse, his carefully stepping feet slip right out from under him when she holds her hand out for a halt; he falls right to his ass with a grunt.

which, maybe, is a good thing, because he’s rather glad to already be floored while trying to process the sound she makes. Somewhere between singing and an animal call, a captivating, otherworldly sound that’s of such a pitch it almost hurts his ears, and then echoes back softly from every surface for what seems like miles. the animals nearby even respond.

his jaw hangs open, and his eyes fill with disbelief, and his hands hold himself upright in the snow, clutching as if he might just fall through the ground because everything suddenly became a crazy dream. he had no idea humans were even capable of making such beautiful noises with nothing but their raw voice.

and then she turns to him like what she’d just done was part and parcel of any other day. the grimm are currently the least of his worries. she keeps getting more beautiful and magical by the minute, and he might just be getting in over his head, but for better or worse that’s never really stopped him. but he really does hope she’s going to offer some sort of explanation for all that.

seriously, who is this girl and where did she come from?

“………”

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“Qrow!” Lifa exclaimed when she found him up to his waist in snow, like a fawn that had misjudged its next few steps and was waiting for its better-knowing mother to come dig him out. She didn’t mean to laugh at his expense, truly, but his looked so dumbfounded by the circumstances, wide eyed and mouth agape, she had to let a tiny giggle win. “Comfortable down there?” She reached down and grabbed him by the back of his jacket with a firm grip. One good pull and she lifted him straight out of the snow, his feet cleared the ground and she gave him a slight shake to dust him off (or perhaps to be comical) before she set him back down on his feet. She hardly grunted with the effort. “Joke as I may, you should really step carefully. It would dampen the mood if you break an ankle and I have to piggy-back you all the way home.” Lifa didn’t give him much time to recover but she was certain he could shake off the astonishment and fall into step. She smirked to herself as she continued forward, taking smug satisfaction before she brought her hand up to her mouth again and without warning, belted out that call once more, reverberating from her throat with a rich vibrato. It was like the forest swallowed it up and breathed it bigger into what should be possible for a small girl to make. She didn’t stop walking or even look at him, as she gestured vaguely in the air with one hand and tapped a branch so snow showered down on them both. “It’s called kulning, if you’re wondering.” On their horizon, the sky was growing a dark indigo color and the first pinpricks of starlight were making themselves known and with the glare of sunset, Lifa could see far ahead the blinding line of white as it reflected on a large body of ice.

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no. no qrow is not comfortable stuffed into the snow, but at least the chill along his back matches the chill down the inside of his spine that her voice had just given him. she’s laughing, and that’s better than the alternative.

he pouts when she plucks him from the snow. she’s strong - he knew that from the way she tugged on him the other day. and earlier today. she really did like the lifting and the tugging, huh? but even though she’s strong, his legs and arms pull in like he’s some kitten lifted by the scruff, as if consolidating his mass might make it easier to hold.

it really couldn’t get more embarrassing.

and he really shouldn’t have thought that, because then it did. she’s not laughing anymore.

“yeah, i know,” he says in a harsh mutter. he knows it would dampen the mood. it always does. he always does. he’s been afraid this whole time, trying to convince himself it would be okay, but now she fully admits it. and it all has nothing to do with his steps.

he almost feels better, letting him self sink into that singing sound again, to let it carry him away maybe to come back more spirited, but then face and shoulders scrunch as more snow invades his space and melts into his clothes. rude. he loves snow on a landscape, but finds it’s not as pleasant all caught in the entirety of his clothes now, and slowly seeping into his person.

“kulning,” he repeats, making the effort to show he’s still listening, but unable to hide the quickly waning amusement. his head hangs too low to enjoy the sunset.

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He had sombered as quickly as a cloud’s shadow passed over a plain and Lifa wondered if it was her doing. Something she did? Said? Had she made a terrible social misstep again and spoiled everything? Maybe he didn’t like her singing. That had to be it. Why did she ever sing in front of people? Stupid, she thought as she twisted the end of her braid around her fingers and muttered, “Kind of annoying, I know.” more at herself than anything. But she wouldn’t let him see her affected. She urged her steps to have purpose and to carry her steadily forward to their goal again, her back straight and eyes pointed forward attentively. Expression set to be impenetrable, as so well trained it was to be. She was looking for something, anything to change the subject to something he felt comfortable with and then she spotted it. As they neared the frozen lake in sight, Lifa reached to her pack and slid out her hatchet. She hefted it once in the air and when it landed in her palm again, she hurled it off to their right.

The blade sank deep into a fallen tree that was leaned sadly over a snowdrift and some stones. Lifa jogged up and hammed the back of the blade once with her shield edge to drive it deeper, before she levered the handle and the wood splintered loudly to reveal the core. A few more solid whacks and Lifa pried a chunk loose and held it up to him victoriously. “I’m sure you know, but a dead tree’s middle is the best dry wood you can find in snow and rain. Help me harvest it? We’ll need a fire to last. If you don’t want to dull your sword blade, I have a hatchet you can borrow.”

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he is still paying attention. he hears Lifa, and watches her lips move. “the safety lectures? yeah a little, tch.” blunt, but honest. as if to prove a point to himself, her, and the whole world, he pumps out a little kick at the next snow drift they pass, even shaking the scooped up chunks free from his boot, all while keeping his footing just fine. tonight, it’s Raven he hears in his head, calling him a moody broody little brother.

that cloud lingers and settles over them both. Lifa trains her gaze forward and with a purpose, so qrow hangs back by a few steps in silent follow, taking and offering some space. although, voicing his complaint, and letting loose his mini tantrum, he does feel a little better. he distracts himself the rest of the way studying those soft reddish braids again. the weave looks familiar, but the patterns are new. he could figure it out. probably. now he can’t get rid of the urge to play with her hair.

he’s supposed to be sight seeing but between his own misery and her, he can’t seem to stay focused on more than immediate surroundings. they stop moving again, and this time he’s prepared for… anything. the wield and throw of a hatchet only makes his shoulders square for a second, because he assumes there’s some sort of enemy target.

and when he figures out it’s only a log, he’s unsure if she’s just having fun or showing off. quickly getting to work and requesting he do the same doesn’t really clarify. well, at least chopping away at some stuff would blow off the rest of all his internalized steam. “yeah, okay.” hands remove from pockets, “i’ll take the hatchet. best to use the tool intended for the job, right?”

for now, he takes the first log and sets to the side to start a pile. finally, he finds a smile once more, “got any work songs to sing t’go with that forest call? i can pay it back once we get the fire goin’.” is that how it went for her too? trading entertainment for entertainment and hospitality. but qrow always had an easier time of it along with the rhythm of flames.

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“No, I meant my…” Lifa swiveled around sharply to stare at him, surprised he had missed her meaning and her hair swung over her shoulder as she did. But she saw the expression on his face and left it alone. Maybe it’s just wounded male pride after all. Thirty second cycle and he’ll be over it. She took the twin and tossed it gently in his direction, trusting he could catch it by the handle but she didn’t look to see if he did. If he didn’t, it would fall short just in front of his toes into the snow. Lifa set to work prying more wood free, intending to go in silence and just hope once she showed him the lake, she could make things better but then he asked. Lifa rested her fingers against the engravings of the blade, remembering the time she carved them with her own hand and the tune she hummed with the grind of metal. “Only if you pay it back,” she relented. So she chopped, stacked and wrapped the bundle in time to a gentle but comforting melody. “I know a place we can go, No one has been there and no one will know, There it is quiet, forget all the violence We’ve tried so hard to endure…” Lifa took a cord from the outside pocket of her bag and fastened her dense firewood bundle to it before she swung it onto her back and passed him a second one to wrap his own, finding a small smile again as she blinked snowflakes from her eyelashes. “So come with me dear, The bright city hum hurts my ears. Sigh with the trees We could be free. Oh, I know a place we could go.” With the last note on her tongue, she turned and began to walk. Over snow. And then onto the ice. “I’m tired of fear. Grasping for safe, familiar. You are like me, oh, could we leave?”

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qrow catches it easily. not that she’d have any reason whatsoever to trust his reflexes at this point. and she didn’t even watch when it worked. oh well. he already knows he’s missed some things, because he always manages to in his sour moods. he spins the hatchet in his hand, feeling the weight and balance of it, appreciating the design and craftsmanship. it is clearly a weapon, but he’s allowed to use it as a tool. to him, that is quite the sign of trust.  

he takes comfort in knowing this has still been an adventure and it isn’t over. and that there will soon be a fire. a warm, dry fire. (he tries to ignore all the ways he could further screw it up.)

what she sings is not a burly, rhythmic work song as he thought, with a pounding beat to chop to, but instead something as lovely as the kulning, but softer. soothing. and he doesn’t wonder if the lyrics are intentionally chosen. between the song given, and Lifa’s own patterns, he finds a timing to work alongside, but almost feels guilty to interrupt with hatchet hacks and wood splitting.

he pretends the pieces are grimm. fears. doubts. he keeps controlled, skilled, and absolutely decimates them in perfect little chunks. he can even smile back when he proudly carries his own stack and accepts the cord.

but when he tries to tie everything up, one hunk wriggles out and drops into snow. he sighs and slumps his head once more, but she’s still singing, and somehow even though she’s turned away and walking forward he can picture her turning her head and singing that last bit right at him, and now he knows it’s intentional, and he’s not going to ruin it. she is like him. and qrow likes her.

just for one damn night let him not ruin it.

he swallows hard as she steps out onto a slippery surface. but she is so sweet to spend time with him, sing for him, put up with him at all. he will try not to be afraid for her. he follows. he lifts his head and ignores the ice and finally takes in more than immediate surroundings. everything looks just like the picture, more or less. it has a solemn magnificence in the dusk, but he bet it’s looks absolutely breathtaking when the sunlight hits just right.

he looks gazes through a few more trees, “hey, that’s the cabin up ahead, huh?”

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Night had come. There was the last faded violet tones at the bottom of the sky between tree trunks and shadows, and then the day was finally asleep and the stars were making themselves known. Lifa walked with even, short steps on the slick ice, covered here and there with thin patches of snow blown across the surface by the wind. Luckily, the thick treeline kept the worst of it at bay. Lifa followed his eyes, as she steadily headed towards the middle of the ice and now that it was truly dark, she took a small lantern from her pack’s side and sparked it aflame to give them a small circle of amber light to travel by. “Sure is. It was just two and a half walls when I started at the academy. I cut some new logs and packed in some sod to make it a little homier…Sometimes I just come out here and stay the night. Then I climb back through my dorm window before daylight. Y’know, normal girl stuff.” She flashed him another crooked smile, strained and self deprecating. The lake didn’t take all that long to cross, but by the time they did, it was pitch black except for tiny pricks of stars and Lifa’s lantern. The night of a new moon gave very little light to be refracted by the ice crystals. She wants to get him to the cabin quickly, to a warm hearth and show him all the things she had brought to try to create a lovely night, to show him the otherworldly beauty she adored about her homeland. She wanted to have someone see why she was doing all of this. It was for no gesture of power or attempt to be noticed, no whimsical notion of a naive princess acted upon because no one could tell her no. Was it so hard to see she loved this world? And that was something to fight for? That was where her royalty, if such a thing could be defined, derived from? Not entitlement, but being honored with the chance to help that which she governed. No naïve princess am I, but you don’t even know that. Lifa took a chain from under her coat collar, produced a key and stopped at the cabin door to unlock it and let him inside. Every wall was covered in intricate wooden carvings, although there were empty patches or patterns still in the process of being finished. There was a bed of animal furs, some equipment to fish, hunt or cook, but otherwise it was quite simplistic. But best of all, there was a functional fireplace and chimney.

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qrow more or less scuffles across the ice, but it works. forever used to slipping up and catching himself up, he is. if he tries not to think about it too hard or care too much, his feet find themselves more naturally.

“you built it? …scratch that, ya snuck out to build it?” Lifa would only find the beadiest of little red rascal eyes with matching crookedness when she turned to look. (even besides the fact that her freckled face is even prettier in the lantern glow and star-studded snowlight).

“man, i got no idea what normal girl stuff really is, but tha’s what it should be, if ya ask me. i c’n pitch a tent pretty good, but we were never’n one spot long enough for anything like a real cabin.”

freedom. that’s what he’s here for. he doesn’t know any better, and doesn’t want much better either. there’s too much world to stay all cooped up or tied down. he loves the world too. more and more the notion of protecting it for true as a huntsman grows on him. and going home to the tribe seems so - small.

although four walls sounds pretty good right about now, for a bit, to warm up and refresh.

…and apparently be wowed by a whole new landscape that has nothing to do with land. a quick scan of the room takes in all the cozy furnishings. a bed covered in animal furs seems just a little too perfect and has his mind spiraling in far more pleasant directions than all the prior self-derision.

but ultimately all the little carvings on the door frame distract tactile desires and attention. fingers trace dips and ridges and grooves, eyes follow patterns. none of her drawings could have prepared him for this, not even the engineering ones had this much detail. connecting the two, he’s not terribly surprised, but still finds himself repeating with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “damn! you. built. this…? …in not even two years?”

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“Like I said, it was already partially there, probably used to be an ice fisher’s hut but it was abandoned for a bit. I just built over the old foundation, cut new logs and all.” Lifa brushed off the effort as if it wasn’t weeks of work, maybe a little flustered by his evident astonishment. Was it that impressive to him? The girl dropped her pack near the hearth, where a moderate stack of birch wood rested and set to work on getting a fire going. She knelt down close to the stack of tinder and kindling, taking the blade of her hatchet and striking the flint on the metal at a steady pace to shower sparks of it. It took a few tries, while he explored the images of stars, trees, elk and more she had created over her time at the academy. But the three largest were birds of different kinds. An eagle, an owl and a raven. The sparks caught and Lifa ducked her head down to blow gently on the curls of smoke. A flame sprung up and she sat back with a grin of pride, quickly feeding it before it ate through the starter. “Yes, Qrow, I built it.” She confirmed again, but with much more confidence. Maybe it was feeding her ego a bit. Lifa dragged her pack onto her lap and opened it, starting to set the contents on the floor. A tin of food, a bottle of something, a board game, a small cooking pot. “A small cabin is maybe a month of work with fair weather but how about to take off your shoes and get your toes warm again before I get into the logistics of it? And bring the furs over, we can get comfy while we wait.”

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he had no concept of time for such a thing. especially a thing filled with so much art. time passes slowly when he reaches the birds. big, beautiful ones, and regal looking. it seemed even art and atlesian legends favored ravens over crows. they’re still all three beautiful.

he hears the logs stack into place and the sharp burst of metal on flint. he knew how to start a fire, but just as well she handled it. he wouldn’t want to burn this lovely place down after Lifa worked so hard on it. when the flames reach a dull roar and Lifa’s sounding more pleased, he makes his way over.

“i knew you were cool,” he says for the second time that day, with a wink.

sweet stars a warm fire, yes!

his shoes are already kicked off by the time she says so. in short order, followed by socks, and pants and… once she’s set up her supplies, he’s stripped down to burgundy boxers, hung his clothes from the mantle to dry, and laid down on his back, basking like a cat - a lithe, sinewy cat with very taut and toned abs and legs - in the fire’s glow and warmth of the wood beneath him - dry and pulling away moisture from clammy skin.

“oh furs?” a gruff mutter considers it, “…okay, inna minute.”

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“You haven’t even begun to find out, pretty boy.” Lifa was occupied with opening the tin of food for them, full of shortbread cookies, small chopped pieces of some sort of smoked sausage, apple pieces dipped in caramel and a few other odds and ends like candied pecans and dried pieces of fruit. As she set the pot in place over the fire and uncorked the bottle with a pop! Lifa put a little packet of spices in with a golden liquid and left it to slowly warm. She turned back around to ask, “Do you like venis– ancestors above me!” He’s practically naked. How did he get so undressed so quickly? How did she not notice? Why couldn’t she stop staring? Her eyes, round as coins, were just wandering over the planes of his shoulders and collar bones, how the firelight pooled in shadows or ivory glows on his skin, turning him into something of an intricate oil painting. She kind of wondered if– No! You are not wondering anything! You are a sovereign and huntress! All at once, Lifa resurrected her melted brain and stood up, marched across to the bed and grabbed a reindeer skin. Without an ounce of grace, she tossed it over him. “You won’t warm up like that.” she said quickly, completely unaware that all of the freckles on her cheeks were almost invisible under how red they were.

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he’s blissfully letting the cold seep away from his bones, watching Lifa unpack more goodies than he thought could possibly fit in one tin. his mouth waters in a way it hasn’t since the best cook at the bandit camp had her rotation. this took some serious planning, which Lifa must have done all in one afternoon, because he’d only just picked a destination earlier in the day. no wonder she’s a team leader.

for all indecent thoughts which had crossed qrow’s mind on the way here, and indecent hopes still drifting in his head, the fact that baring so much skin could itself cross the lines of decency never even occurred to him. he had found not everyone in the kingdoms had the same openness he grew up with, but that’s why he left the boxers on! but then Lifa stares, and flushes, and he remembers his earlier considerations of how innocent she must be.

and all of a sudden he’s frowning from beneath a fur hide, decidedly colder from its spot in the cold air cabin than the heat coming from the hearth. not to mention the sight of beautiful blooming rosy cheeks having been stolen away and replaced with dead animal. momentarily.

“whaaat?” qrow digs his hands around until he finds an edge, and plunks his head out from beneath the cover, but respects her wishes of keeping the rest in place over his body. not an ounce of shame sits upon his features, but rather, quite a silly grin.

“never seen human skin before, Lifa? not even a communal bath or anythin’ back home?”

maybe people in colder climates weren’t so inclined to be naked to the elements all that often. well, he’s dug himself this deep. he might as well keep going. if he’s going to ruin things, at least he can start doing it fabulously. although, having traveled all the way out here now, she’s kinda stuck with him.

even more of his teeth start to show, “so. …am i still pretty?”

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Lifa groaned loudly and sat down by the fire, burying her face in her hands before dragging them down her cheeks and giving him a scathing look. Not truly hostile, just irritated that he was poking her buttons. “Baths? No. We have public saunas but I don’t participate. It would be improper for me and in fact, most of the time they’re restricted to men and women being separ– why am I even answering this question?” she tossed her hands in the air and set back to setting up the game board. It looked like a checker board, except more in a cross fashion, forming four avenues and there were a great deal many pieces. Smooth stones painted with a white goose on top and one painted with an amber fox. It was getting warmer with her layers on, so Lifa undid the clasps of her fur wrap and laid it aside, relieved with it gone. The fire was steadily heating the cabin’s interior and her sleeved tunic was plenty warm, considering it was such fine wool. Lifa toyed the end of her braid in her fingers with a pouty expression, her brows furrowed and jaw clenched. Her own form of bashfulness. “I am thinking of a word for you right now and it is not pretty. Do you know this game? she demanded the last question and held up the fox piece to show him.

Her entire right side was bathed in the fire light, now that it had begun to consume whole logs and her hair seemed to draw the light in and emanate it on its own, like the glow of a candle. The other side of her was shadowed, as though she were still standing on the ice.

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riling people up always made information slip. improper - for her specifically. qrow definitely tucks that little note away. she answers because he’s genuinely interested on top of being a smart ass, but Lifa seems set on changing the subject, so he lets her. he also knows better than to press too many buttons of someone who just laid out a bunch of delicious looking food.

now that he is dry and the air is warm, and they are both safe as it gets, and he can even relax a little - his stomach lets loose a loud growl beneath fur cover. but he dutifully tries to keep his attention on everything she’s setting out next, rather than the smells from the snacks, or what that word she’s thinking of might be, or the adorable expression he finally earns in reaction to his flirting - glowing in the firelight. teasing him in so many ways, this girl…

“uh…” he sits up, pulling arms loose from his hide blanket, and using them to tuck the rest into something of a tartan sash by sitting on ends or letting them drape over one shoulder. curious eyes glance over the board and pieces, and while he can find elements of many things he’s played in the past, the general combination doesn’t look familiar. a hint of anxiety spikes again.

“can’t say i do. t’be honest, looks like the kinda thing i wouldn’t be allowed near. me and, um, stuff with a lotta little pieces don’t really get along.”

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Lifa popped a piece of apple between her teeth and savored the tart and sweet on her tongue, as she settled down crosslegged and comfortable by the fire. As she chewed, she wiped a bit of melted caramel off her bottom lip and ran her tongue over her thumb, stopping to nibble on her nail in thought while she moved some of Qrow’s gear a little closer to the fire so the toes of his shoes would dry through. “You can’t be worse than me, I’ll flip the board if I get too upset about losing and spend all night angry I have to pick it all up again.” she smirked at him, although she was completely honest. She would do it. “So let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It’s an easy enough game, Qrow, I brought it from home to try to get my team mates to play it but, uh…anyway. One of us controls the birds, the other is the fox.” She moved a few bird pieces around the fox to demonstrate, “The goal is to trap the fox where it can’t escape or eat one of the birds. If there’s no space behind a bird, it can’t be eaten but if there is, the fox can jump over and gobble it up. If there’s not enough birds left to trap it, fox wins. I just thought it would be a fun way to pass the time while we wait for the show. I’ll play the fox?” Lifa rolled the game piece over her fingers smoothly, back and forth, like a coin or card. The last roll, she bounced it off her thumb and caught it in her palm deftly, waiting for his answer with an expression akin to hopefulness. A hope that he wouldn’t turn her down flat like her team did.

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waiting until someone else started on the food is about all the etiquette qrow could actually pull from what had been crammed in his head so far, so he’s grateful to be surrounded by a picnic of familiar finger foods. he shoves a whole sausage and a few pieces of the dried fruit into his mouth and manages to chew with his mouth closed as Lifa fusses with more tasty smelling things on the fire.

yet again, she helps distract and settle over-stimulated nerves in demonstrating her own brand of messy eating and managing to make burnt sugar spilling over somehow attractive, but maybe his head just runs away with him again. she admits to making a mess of the game, too, and that definitely must have resulted in a losing some pieces in the past. well, as long as none of this is too important to her…

she speaks with the same dismissive disappointment Summer had when trying to convince Raven to spar with her their first few months. team leaders have it hard, huh?

he had come here for adventure, not games, but with his clothes still drying, food to eat, and all that same spark of light in her eyes emphasized by the fire’s glow, he figures there are worse ways to kill time.

“sure. i’ll try a round.” less secrets of strategy need be kept with minor pastimes. he mutters aloud, “…so better for the birds to work in pairs.” a universal truth in his life.

focused red gaze moves from the board to her face, back to grinning and apparently emboldened by warmth and the idea that she seriously has no issue moving along in all these planned intricacies with him in little but a blanket, “so’s this mean i get t’call ya a fox now, since you said it first?”

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“Seems you’ve already caught on to one of the many lessons this game has to teach,” Lifa set her piece down on the board with a sharp clack, leaning forward with her chin in one palm and her brow furrowed in focus. They followed every position on the board, calculating routes of both evasion and attack. Oh yes, it has a great deal of hidden meaning…she didn’t catch on to the one he was insinuating or at least not to it’s true theme.

Lifa rolled her eyes, jumping her game piece over one of his and claiming the devoured bird for her side. “Red hair, red fox. I haven’t heard that one before.” Sarcasm, of course. She had heard all manner of nicknames and jokes about her vibrant locks and that didn’t even cover the silly superstitions her own people insisted it meant. Favored by the gods, born to shed blood, born to die young. Shit like that. But all in all, his veiled flirting was a hit and miss. “You can but I’ll be calling you Scare-Qrow if you do.”

The fire spat and she leaned over to look inside the pot, which was now generating a very enticing, mouth watering aroma. Thank gods, it’s ready. Lifa took the two cups she had pulled from her pack and lifted the hot handle with her gloved hand, pouring the drink into each like molten translucent gold. Hot spiced mead; the real taste of home. The first sip ran like slow, gentle fire down her throat and seemed to set her aglow from inside with its taste, hot honey tickling her mouth delightfully.

Lifa closed her eyes for a moment to savor it and all the memories with it. “You know, it’s traditional for my homelands huntsmen in training to play this game. It teaches team work and sacrifice. I mostly ended up getting the pieces chucked at my head by my brother or smacked with the board by my mentor for being a brat…It’s nice to play it again, though, so— thank you. You’re pretty nice to a girl you’ve known less than a day. Nicer than most people at this Academy.”

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any strategies specific to this game elude him, but he makes his own assessment of the board. he projects his own experiences on top of it, mixed with the training from school. he focuses on moving the front line of birds towards their rear partners while fanning out. pairs, then small groups so pairs could cover for each other, in as many directions as the number of pieces allowed.

“nah, just foxy,” he states plainly without even looking up from the board to impress flirtation or explain what is perhaps cultural connotation, he seeks only to clarify any lack of allusion to color, to diffuse insult. “an’ i’ve been called worse. heh,” now he looks up, amusement rounding and raising his cheeks.

he grew up with his own share of superstitions thrust upon him. but here Lifa takes a sign of bad luck and changes it to something a bit silly that hangs out in an open field and is meant to protect… “kinda like that one actually.”

he hears and smells the pot too, had been wondering what treat she had for him next as he downs a few more of the nibbles laid out. recognition of the scent almost finds him, but the thought that a pot likely held soup distracted from the truth. he takes the cup and it reminds him of the cider, and his mind inches ever so closer to an answer. ultimately, the first sip finally reveals it. a brand new spice mix hits the front and sides of his tongue, while the honey hits the back, and the alcohol burns in a slow, syrup motion down the back of his throat. mead!

sugar crystals melt and prickle along inner linings and he smiles even wider, recalling their conversation on the roof, “you remembered! damn… this puts my two tiny whiskey bottles t’shame. might’s’well be muddy rain water in comparison.” forget even pulling them from his pouch now. something from his own stash is all he could manage without buyer covers here in atlas. no need for lesser when a whole pot of mead between them would be more than enough for a good time.

he listens, sipping often at the cup. it’s way too hot, but equally way too delicious to care. it’s good to know playing games seems to go about the same way for most teachers and siblings. he moves another of his pieces, fingers lingering and rocking it in hesitant thought at her last words.

“yeah, well. thanks f’bringin’ me t’such a cool place.” qrow remembers himself and lets go before it cracks or pushes through the board, or something else stupid. his voice shrinks, “most people don’t ev’n want me around this long. an’… t’be honest i’m still gettin’ usedta nice bein’ a compliment.” he puffs up his chest, willing some manner of pride back through humor - in letting out derisive air through a crooked and scrunched expression, “though i guess i shouldn’t be su’prised t’hear that when y’live with alla these atlas stuffies. …what about your team? y’get along with them alright?”

he kinda figured all the teams worked it out to work together one way or another, but, he looks down at all these birds and one lone fox piece, and he wonders.

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“I thought you might,” His subtle bashfulness and smile drew her eye to his features again magnetically. He had a sharp wit, a cold edge but there was a softness there that made her feel like she was being shown something precious, like this secluded and protected place of her own. She became distracted watching his long fingers move across the board and in a moment, she realized he was rapidly approaching victory. Lifa tried to snap out of it by taking a drink but it didn’t do anything whatsoever to pull her out of the warm ease she’d found. Complacency was eroding at her competitiveness, which was a very new situation for her. Lifa looked up at him in a snap motion, her eyes flashing in the same manner an animal might whip their head around and perk their ears when alerted of something. She washed questions down with another drink and gestured to him with her cup, “Well, I’m not most people. I’ll have you know I’m enjoying my time with you. It’s straight up jovial in this creepy cabin in the woods.” Lone fox indeed. Lifa, in all her boldness and liberty taking ways, found that fluttering wisp of shyness again and wrapped herself in it like a gossamer curtain. She gazed around the carvings, pretending for a moment it was the walls of somewhere back home, walls of no kind like these in Atlas. “They are professional, if they absolutely have to be. But I’ll always be the mountain savage in their eyes. Simple. Barbaric. Always deserving less, me and all my people.” Lifa skipped her piece over one of Qrow’s, promptly claiming another avian life. “But it’s alright. They can reduce me in their eyes until they go blind with the effort…I won’t grant their scorn any governance over myself. I know my worth.” I know my worth. She repeated it to herself, even as she fought to believe it.

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qrow feels it. he feels it all when he drops his guard like this. his mind engaged, throat tingling with alcohol, belly full, a pretty someone happy in his company, means he eases into uncommon happiness right with Lifa, she’s not wrong. short-lived. rare, so rare that it doesn’t surprise him at all when the sunny girl suddenly turns to shotgun fire and his eyes blast open too. his gaze flits around to follow, over both shoulders and behind him, those bangs she so liked to tease over flying in all directions, blanket bunching coming loose to fall lower on his frame. what had he done now?

he expects to see something in flames, a carving collapsing, the cauldron bubbling over, but nothing. nothing so far. no, his semblance didn’t spark it, something he said must have hit a nerve. another gulp of mead attempts to calm his own.

he doesn’t even look back to the board yet; still listening instead. the least he can do.

it doesn’t hurt how much she has a way with words when she’s upset, apparently. it almost sounds like she’s giving a speech from some high and mighty ledge.

…all her people? that seemed an odd way to phrase it. something more tucked away for later.

he knows the look of someone pulling themselves together by thin threads. qrow and Raven so practiced at the art they could practically weave a tapestry of false security between them. Lifa’s pride glows like gold from the stern set jaw of her face. all the wildest images of undressing her that still simmer in his head couldn’t match the layers which peel away and leave her bare right now.

bird pieces on the same side of the board as the fox fall back in tactical retreat to regroup. it may look cowardly, but qrow doesn’t like loosing so many pieces. a belief in minimizing casualties never gained him much favor in the tribe, but he can play this game his own way. meanwhile, qrow himself scooches closer to Lifa once finished with his move, lying a gentle hand on her closest knee.

“hey,” rugged voice itself shrugs. what can he possibly say to that? to someone he barely knows? “…if you’re a mountain savage in atlas, then i’m a forest one in vale.”

not how to compliment someone. not even close to the best expression of himself, finding words and courage to do so remains a weak point. a shallow attempt at cheer his best bid to offer.

“speakin’ of,” touch removes as quickly as placed. clothes most certainly dry by now, he slides himself back towards the fire and pulls his pants back on beneath the blanket. (and a button catches, and the inner lining of hide tears, because there it is now, but he’s just not going to mention it and make sure the frustrated growl he lets out sounds like it’s from the awkwardness of tugging trousers on while sitting on the floor), “…ahem. don’t i still owe ya a song?”

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His small but meaningful efforts to reach her were noticed. His words draw a smile of a girl remembering that yes, there is someone here who likes her, who doesn’t look down his nose at her and wish her gone as quickly as possible. She’s seen. And what a terrifying strategy of war that was, sliding off pieces of armor and lowering her weapon baring hand to stand close to a fire that only burns when disrespected. His hand startles her smile. Lifa didn’t know how to interpret it, the gesture was so utterly audacious of him that she had to remind herself that it could be just barely defined as treason, if facts were stretched. All her life, she was raised on a pedestal whilst kneeling in pious servitude, having to always walk the line between an acolyte and an idol. But in a single gently red hot touch, he reminded her that none of those things were in this cabin now. This boy was all equal parts mysterious, smart mouthed and utterly tender. What a way to make her head foggy and her cheeks flush for a few moments when she realized her leg felt cold now that his palm was away and she wanted it back. Was her heart going to jump out and do a dance it was clearly gearing to do? Lifa’s lips split into her lopsided grin and she promptly made herself comfortable among their blankets, stretching out on her stomach and propping her chin in one hand to peer at him expectantly through her eyelashes, feet raised lazily in the air. A rather flattering view of certain…curves. “You most certainly do and I am all ears.” she declared, eager for him to keep his end of the bargain.

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good. great. fantastic. maybe he could complete this while outrunning his next slip up of semblance. he downs the last dregs of his drink and pushes it all to the back of his mind, pulling forward instead the memories of bonfire revelry he grew up with at least weekly.

even if qrow had any idea of the standard which Lifa carries in her head, he holds little affection for authority, and far less regard for its rules - demonstrated in no greater way than how he decides for himself that pants make him decent enough, and finally lets furs fall to move around freely.

anyway, for his people, putting too many barriers between one’s body and the flames carrying tribute to the sky is what’s nearly blasphemous.

he finds a sturdy wooden footstool and sets it before the hearth. usual seating would place him looking into the fire to watch a flickering dance and let it focus and guide his beat, but tonight a far hotter view demands his attention on the opposite side. he chooses to cross legs and sit between burning logs and a makeshift drum with his back to the glow. shadows shift along his skin, and likewise darkened eyes openly drag over Lifa’s form; one brow raises in appreciation of long, thick layers draping in more revealing ways, wildfire locks flowing loose around her shoulders, and posture so eager and attentive.

with a head toss to rustle hair in her direction for some hype of what’s about to come, he’ll count it success if he can half match the show she gives him just lying there.

the song demands something of a primal nature, and she makes it too easy for him to call forth.

with no accompaniment or other instruments available, he’ll have to make do with keeping it simple. open palms strike the edge of the stool to make sharp sounds. after that, one hand forms a fist to summon a richer, deeper sound from the center. then, both.

♫ ♫

pat, pat pat, pat

bam, bam, bam, bam, bam

bam, pat, bam, pat, bam, pat, bam, pat…

to keep up with the rhythm of drumming, his body begins to rock, throwing controlled energy into the force of each beat. qrow tightens his belly taut like a drum itself to let foreign lyrics follow in gruff, gutteral chants bouncing from deep in his chest to vibrate in his throat and release with huffed air and hisses. the closest to singing the fry of his voice lets him get.

qrow’s heard it enough times to repeat, though clueless of any translation.

Нэг л хун их л гунигтай Ижлээ хайн тэмүүлэв гэнэ Эргэн тойронд хэрэн хэсэж Хайртай хосоо олов гэнэ Оройтож олдсон тэр л хайранд Умбан наадан жаргав гэнэ Орчлон дэлхийг мартан дурлаж Олон хоногийг элээв гэнэ Үртэй болсноо ижилдээ дуулган Үүрд хамт байхаа амлав гэнэ Өсөж торнисон нуурандаа гэрлэж…

♫ ♫