[ 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. ]
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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. ]