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fire-the-headcanons · 4 years

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The door had barely closed behind them when Raven hissed, "Why did you have to tell him bandits killed our parents? If you had just kept your mouth shut he'd fail us on the assignment and be done with it."

"He could tell we were upset," he mumbled.

"I don’t want to tell some Huntsman how to kill our family," she spat, almost throwing the door open ahead of her. The light outside was just beginning to dim, the days getting shorter as it got colder. "I need a drink."

"We don't have much left," Qrow murmured. "...Now I wish I'd saved Tai's beer."

"I think it's about time we got some more."

"How?"

"Easily," she said with a smile. "I go into a convenience store, walk past the liquor, and a couple bottles disappear off the back of the shelf. Don't even have to touch them."

Oh. Right. "...Do we have to steal?"

She didn't respond, and he glanced up at her face—twisted with rage. "Well, there's somewhere else we can get it."

Follow the Beacon Qrow—Mother Knows Best

[Link to Masterpost]

[This chapter contains angst. And the world is melting down, right? Who needs more of that right now? But the next chapter is fluff! And comfort! I dunno, I just couldn't bring myself to edit this. It's still not polished.

So far my family and I are ok, and I'm still employed. It's just a lot. Of all the time periods in history we could visit I would not have picked 1918.

I'm going to post the angst chapter today and the comfort chapter tomorrow. If this nonsense is stressing you out, read them both tomorrow because it will end on a high note.

Or go play some Stardew Crossing Moon. Preferably with a friend or two—isolate, but don't be isolated.

Warnings: abuse, self-harm, mortal terror. TLDR at the bottom.]

"That will be all for today. Make sure you turn in the write-up by Saturday afternoon," Professor Lionheart called over the racket of students packing away their things. "Mister and Miss Taupe, please wait for just a moment."

Qrow's heart sank. A full week after the bandit essays were due, he'd hoped Lionheart wasn't going to bring it up. Of course his luck couldn't be that good.

At least the Professor waited for all the other students to file out of the room, pretending to shuffle though papers on his desk, before beckoning the two of them down. Qrow stiffly grabbed his bag and forced himself down the steps to the floor.

"I suppose you know why I called you?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Raven said, voice completely flat.

He nodded with a look of sad understanding. "I understand the topic may be… difficult for you, after what happened to your family. But it is important, as Huntsmen, that you have at least a rudimentary understanding of bandit tactics. Do you understand?"

Qrow nodded once. "Yes, sir."

"It doesn't have to be an essay, it doesn't have to be well organized. Just give me at least a page that tells me you understand how dangerous these people can be. If it's easier, you can explain face-to-face."

He couldn't think of anything harder.

Lionheart sighed. "It's true that the old tribes are in decline, but they will still be around for decades more. And bandit activity has been increasing in Sanus as new technology makes homesteading easier. I won't set a specific due date on the assignment, but I will check back with you in a couple of weeks."

Qrow forced himself to nod again.

"I'd also like to give you this," he said, drawing a small piece of paper from a drawer. "I know firsthand how difficult it can be to find mental health services in Anima, especially so far from Mistral… If you've never had the chance to speak to a professional about your experiences, I'd highly recommend going to the school facility at least once."

Qrow took the pamphlet against his better judgement, tucking it into his bag with the rest of his books. "Thank you."

"If there's anything I can do, please let me know," he said, smiling warmly.

"He could tell we were upset," he mumbled.

"We don't have much left," Qrow murmured. "...Now I wish I'd saved Tai's beer."

"I think it's about time we got some more."

"How?"

"Easily," she said with a smile. "I go into a convenience store, walk past the liquor, and a couple bottles disappear off the back of the shelf. Don't even have to touch them."

Oh. Right. "...Do we have to steal?"

She didn't respond, and he glanced up at her face—twisted with rage. "Well, there's somewhere else we can get it."

"What—" His stomach turned over. "Wait. Raven, you're not—"

"I'll meet you back in the dorm," she said, shoving her bag into his hands.

"Raven, don’t—"

She stepped backwards into a bush and vanished. Qrow forced himself to turn and walk, his shoes thudding on the path blending in with his heartbeat hammering in his ears. Plenty of students walked around him, but no one paid him any mind.

Their dorm room was dark. Summer and Tai were probably with Dan again. He set Raven's bag on the foot of her bed, dropping his own on his desk along with his jacket, vest and tie.

Stomach churning, he sat on his bed to wait. It didn't take long.

The shadow of the tree outside swam, growing and stretching until it was large enough for his sister to step through. "Vanta wants to talk to you."

Heart pounding in his ears, he frantically shook his head—Vanta would be able to hear if he spoke. Raven scowled, gesturing at the portal.

"I'm waiting!"

Qrow winced—he'd hoped he'd never hear that voice again—and Raven leapt forward, grabbing a fistful of his hair and dragging him from his seat.

Crying out, he grabbed at her hand—she let go and slammed into him, sending him sprawling through the portal and into the dirt floor of Vanta's tent. He scrambled to his feet, painfully aware of his sword's missing weight. They weren't supposed to bring their weapons to history and it was waiting patiently in a weapons locker a continent away.

"Didn't want to come, little bird?" He would have yelped if Vanta's hand hadn't clamped over his mouth, her sharpened nails digging at the skin of his cheek and sparking his aura under the sustained pressure. "Your sister's always been the good one. I know she didn't take that moonshine, whatever she says."

Her hand turned the color of tar as she activated her Semblance, draining his aura like water from a leaking bag and disrupting his defenses enough for her nails to draw blood.

"Do I need to remind you what will happen if those self-righteous crusaders find out what you are?" Vanta spat, kicking his right knee and throwing him to the ground. His head slammed into the dirt with a muted thud. By the time he'd regained enough sense to even twitch she'd already pinned him, nails digging into his neck, working faster. "What were you going to say if you got caught?"

"I—" Qrow could barely breathe, let alone speak.

"Your sister would be far better suited to do this assignment alone," Vanta hissed. Qrow swallowed a dry sob as her other hand dug into his bad shoulder, tearing through his shirt as he struggled under her weight, aura petering out like a candle in a closed jar. "If they catch you, they'll make you tell them everything you know about us before they kill you. The blood of the entire tribe will be on your hands." He twitched again as her hand tightened on his throat, pinching off his breath.

"But you've never cared about the tribe, have you, traitor?"

No— He jerked, lungs already burning, each motion twisting her nails in his skin. Not again—please—

"You've only ever brought us misfortune."

Please, gods, let me die quickly.

His aura trickled away in a sea of red sparks.

And Vanta let him go.

Qrow sucked in a horrible, croaking breath and clutched his bleeding throat as she stood. "If you do anything to threaten this family, I will make sure you pay if it is my last act on Remnant. Am I understood?"

All he could manage was a painful rasp. He kept his eyes on her boots and nodded.

"Then get back to your school," she snapped, turning away. "And find a use for yourself. You can start with getting your damn Semblance under control."

She swept from the tent into the dark. Qrow released his neck and bit down hard on his hand, holding back a sob as he dragged himself through the portal onto the floor of STRQ's room at Beacon.

"Qrow?" Raven's voice barely made it through his own breathless gasps. He ignored it, pushing himself up painfully and collapsing back to the floor as his injured knee refused with searing pain to hold his weight.

Her hand brushed his bad shoulder and he slapped it away with a curse.

"Let me patch you up."

"Go away," he rasped, pushing himself into a sitting position against the nightstand between their beds.

"D-don't be stupid." At least she had the decency to look ashamed. He tried to stand again, using the little table for support and ready for the pain this time. The leg wobbled but held.

Raven reached for him again and he swatted at her arm, staggering past toward the door and the bathroom. "I said go away." Thankfully the hallway was empty, aside from Raven quietly following behind him. The bathroom too. Apparently everyone else had gone to dinner.

She didn't follow him in, at first. He stared at his reflection in dismay for a moment—he looked even worse than he felt. The uniform was ripped at the shoulder and bloody on the collar, caked with dust from his fruitless struggle to escape. Bruises were already forming on his neck. He could hide them, and the cuts, if he wore his collar like a jackass for a couple days while his aura recharged. But how did Vanta expect him to hide the damn claw marks on his cheek?

Well. She didn't, obviously. She'd already pretty much told him to die here—she was probably just annoyed that Raven hadn't come home without him yet.

The door creaked, opening only a crack. "Qrow?"

"Fuck off, Raven." He pressed a paper towel against the marks on his cheek, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Qrow?" The door creaked open and then closed, her shoes clicking on the tile. He stared into the sink

"She's going to kill me."

"She's just trying to make you stro—"

"She. Wants. To. Kill. Me," he snapped, pain shooting through his arm as he turned to face her directly. "And the only reason she hasn't is that it would piss you off. Or have you forgotten she already tried?"

Raven's gaze fell to the tiles.

"Give me your knife," he snapped, tossing the bloodied paper into the trash, and she pressed it into his hand. Letting the water get as hot as it could, he washed it twice with soap before drying it on a new towel.

He forced his muscles to relax—tensing would only make the pain worse—and carefully cut over his injuries, turning each set of separate marks into a single, jagged line. It looked kind of like he'd tried to shave with a large rock. Perfect. His aura would take care of it in the next couple days and if past experience was anything to go by, it wouldn't scar.

He handed the knife back to her still covered in his blood and went to get the first aid kit.

Next Chapter: Summer—Care Package

[TLDR: Lionheart noticed that the Taupe twins didn't turn in their bandit essays and tries to work with them on a version of the assignment that will be easier for them to manage, what with the trauma of losing their parents to the Branwen tribe. He also recommends that they take advantage of Beacon's mental health services. Immediately after leaving the room, Raven decides to get drunk and tells Qrow her plan to steal alcohol. Qrow is reluctant, which makes her angry, so she portals to Vanta to ask for some instead. Vanta uses the opportunity to violently remind Qrow she doesn't want him to come back. Qrow won't let Raven patch him up. Raven clearly feels terrible (but "sorry doesn't change anything" so she doesn't say it).]

#rwby #follow the beacon #qrow branwen #raven branwen #vanta branwen #leonardo lionheart #strq #team strq #rwby fanfiction

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