[ you're not allowed to laugh at me is a fascinating way for a message to begin, and Ozpin waits, patiently silent.
Ah.
Yes, he understands. Ozpin has lived so many lives; he has met and he has been a boy desperate for acceptance and steady ground. He does not know that this theory holds true, and that their local child-god has affixed such personal importance to the narrative. But he can see it.
His end remains silent for a long time; then the dots jump, stop, jump. Finally: ]
I understand.
I have always been very glad to know you, Qrow. Even if my feelings were not quite of the same tone.
For all Deerington's many flaws, it has meant a great deal to have your company again here.
[ This is, in true Ozpin fashion, a particularly wordy Thank you. ]
[A bit over twenty years isn't very much time to Ozpin at all, and yet it is a very long time, for Qrow. For a significant amount of that time, he couldn't really understand why Oz liked having him around, or quietly feared the man would realize his mistake and leave him behind. Eventually, Qrow was able to stop questioning and simply allow loyalty to be his answer to both sentiments. It had been enough, until Argus.
Oz mentions having his company again in Deerington, and his thoughts inevitably drift to Remnant. Could they still rebuild the same bridges they have here, while still actively within the war? Could Oz bring himself to be honest with him, to treat him like an equal and a friend rather than a pawn without that distance? It has not been at the forefront of his fears about going home, but it hits him now. Less than a year ago, he'd told Oz they had nothing more to say to each other. He doesn't really want to return to that bitter, angry, devastated place, especially with more grief to come and the terrifying yawning chasm of possibility that Salem might kill them all in the imminent future.
Again, the dots take a while to appear. The jump, stop, jump pattern repeats.]
i'm glad we got this chance back in remnant i'd still be pissed off at you
[The dots appear as though to continue that thought, and then stop for a while, like he's changed his mind. Eventually, they reappear.]
listen if the dream falls apart or if we go back and don't remember and shit goes bad enough there that the rest of us don't make it i just want you to know i forgive you
[He's never said it in so many words, until now. For quite some time he hadn't even realized that he felt it, for all he'd settled back into old, comfortable routines with the man. But this feels like the right moment.]
[ Ozpin hits send on his gentle praise, and he thinks it might end there. Qrow has never been particularly skilled at taking a compliment. From here they might leave off with some joke about the things Sodder implied, a note of commiseration, an unspoken agreement of what they have now. It is certainly not that schoolboy crush; it is not the commander-and-soldier roles they'd fallen into since.
He thinks of Ruby, and how tentatively, how hopefully, she'd said the word family.
He has not earned the word. It seems unlikely he ever will, or ever could. Ozpin knows his many faults, knows how much suffering is tied to his action or inaction. He is not worthy of most titles he has been given, over the years.
[ i'm glad we got this chance, says Qrow. He has never agreed more fervently. It is not a chance Qrow owed him; he does not think it would, or will, look like this upon Remnant. He does not even know he will live long enough for that effort.
Perhaps that is one of the odd silver linings of Deerington, this place outside of time. It's not redemption. But it is... a sort of peace that has mattered more to him than he had ever anticipated.
[ He had never expected it in so many words. That moment in the snow— it had not been Jinn's reinforcing of every tragedy he has lived through, every failure he has set upon the world, every mistake he has made. It had not been the anguish of all this being witnessed. That had been a raw agony, to have his heart torn open for a spectating audience to see. To have his every fault paraded in her mild, amused storyteller's tone.
It had been Qrow's splintered fury that broke him. For all that Qrow's sister turned away from him long ago, for all that Qrow has been the only one of STRQ truly left standing, a ragged alcoholic tearing up his school on every other visit— Qrow is his. Qrow had been his. He had never realized how inherently he relied upon that loyalty, how deeply he trusted that there would always be the weight of a bird on his shoulder, until the man turned. Perhaps not Qrow's fury that did it, then: the real blade through his chest had been Qrow's despair.
Qrow had enough of despair long ago. Ozpin has always wanted to spare him any more of it, even knowing it an impossible task. Even knowing he is sending the man's family to a war that cannot be won. But now his best agent, his best student, the man who he'd regarded as a friend knows the full and terrible shape of existence, and he has not turned away. He has not left Oz alone to his unwinnable game. He has decided to stay and help him roll his stone up the hill.
Qrow has looked at Ozpin in full, excruciating, terrible detail. He has seen that the world is a ruin and his mentor was always the fool at its center. And he is choosing, of his own will, to stay. ]
[ Qrow told him, once, in shouted tones under a broken Deerington sky. If he had been truthful from the start, if he had informed all his unwitting army of their role in the game... I would have stayed.
It is a lovely sentiment. It is not one he had been able to fully believe, at the time. A thread of painful hesitation had held him from that; a hundred lifetimes had made the claim feel so very small, so very distant. Now, in this moment, he thinks he may comprehend it.
The silence stretches long. Then, finally, the dots jump. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Ah.
Yes, he understands. Ozpin has lived so many lives; he has met and he has been a boy desperate for acceptance and steady ground. He does not know that this theory holds true, and that their local child-god has affixed such personal importance to the narrative. But he can see it.
His end remains silent for a long time; then the dots jump, stop, jump. Finally: ]
I understand.
I have always been very glad to know you, Qrow. Even if my feelings were not quite of the same tone.
For all Deerington's many flaws, it has meant a great deal to have your company again here.
[ This is, in true Ozpin fashion, a particularly wordy Thank you. ]
no subject
Oz mentions having his company again in Deerington, and his thoughts inevitably drift to Remnant. Could they still rebuild the same bridges they have here, while still actively within the war? Could Oz bring himself to be honest with him, to treat him like an equal and a friend rather than a pawn without that distance? It has not been at the forefront of his fears about going home, but it hits him now. Less than a year ago, he'd told Oz they had nothing more to say to each other. He doesn't really want to return to that bitter, angry, devastated place, especially with more grief to come and the terrifying yawning chasm of possibility that Salem might kill them all in the imminent future.
Again, the dots take a while to appear. The jump, stop, jump pattern repeats.]
i'm glad we got this chance
back in remnant i'd still be pissed off at you
[The dots appear as though to continue that thought, and then stop for a while, like he's changed his mind. Eventually, they reappear.]
listen
if the dream falls apart or
if we go back and don't remember
and shit goes bad enough there that the rest of us don't make it
i just want you to know
i forgive you
[He's never said it in so many words, until now. For quite some time he hadn't even realized that he felt it, for all he'd settled back into old, comfortable routines with the man. But this feels like the right moment.]
1/idk
He thinks of Ruby, and how tentatively, how hopefully, she'd said the word family.
He has not earned the word. It seems unlikely he ever will, or ever could. Ozpin knows his many faults, knows how much suffering is tied to his action or inaction. He is not worthy of most titles he has been given, over the years.
But perhaps he could try to be.
Then the dots reappear: Qrow is still typing. ]
no subject
Perhaps that is one of the odd silver linings of Deerington, this place outside of time. It's not redemption. But it is... a sort of peace that has mattered more to him than he had ever anticipated.
The dots jump. Qrow is still typing. ]
no subject
It hits him like a blow to the chest. ]
no subject
It had been Qrow's splintered fury that broke him. For all that Qrow's sister turned away from him long ago, for all that Qrow has been the only one of STRQ truly left standing, a ragged alcoholic tearing up his school on every other visit— Qrow is his. Qrow had been his. He had never realized how inherently he relied upon that loyalty, how deeply he trusted that there would always be the weight of a bird on his shoulder, until the man turned. Perhaps not Qrow's fury that did it, then: the real blade through his chest had been Qrow's despair.
Qrow had enough of despair long ago. Ozpin has always wanted to spare him any more of it, even knowing it an impossible task. Even knowing he is sending the man's family to a war that cannot be won. But now his best agent, his best student, the man who he'd regarded as a friend knows the full and terrible shape of existence, and he has not turned away. He has not left Oz alone to his unwinnable game. He has decided to stay and help him roll his stone up the hill.
Qrow has looked at Ozpin in full, excruciating, terrible detail. He has seen that the world is a ruin and his mentor was always the fool at its center. And he is choosing, of his own will, to stay. ]
end
It is a lovely sentiment. It is not one he had been able to fully believe, at the time. A thread of painful hesitation had held him from that; a hundred lifetimes had made the claim feel so very small, so very distant. Now, in this moment, he thinks he may comprehend it.
The silence stretches long. Then, finally, the dots jump. ]
That means more to me than I can say.
Thank you, Qrow.
I will try to be worthy of it.