Warmth encases him suddenly and Qrow has enough sense in him to realize a wing has been draped over his figure. A wing far from fluffy, but securing in nature with the way it curled around his lithe frame. Compels him to draw closer to Tawnie and Qrow is tired.
Exhaustion settled in his bones and all he can do is to fall limp in Tawnie’s grasp. No protest on lips so eager and ready to bite. Uncharacteristic in nature how quick he was to give in to such a simplistic gesture. Qrow has known Tawnie long enough to have nothing to fear when it came to matters of himself.
No judgement in the vulture’s tone.
Just genuine concern and it’s both a fresh of breath air and a knife twisting into his guts. A part of him churns at the words being spoken to him and Qrow wants to bring Tawnie down to his level as much as he wants to help him. He wants him to feel as he feels, but common sense is a friend. And with his friend, Qrow is left to know and expect better.
“It’s not that simple, Tawnie,” Qrow murmured in return, “What’s the point if I can’t do it on my own?”
“You won’t be here with me forever.” He looked up, “What am I going to do if I can’t do things on my own?”
“You know, if you had ‘ta do everythin’ on your own, Remnant would be a pretty lonely place.”
Dark eyes flicker down, vulture taking but a moment of his own to breathe when matching stare with soft rose. He understood those fears--finding oneself with no one to depend upon, that only your own being would stay, but in a World littered with people the chances were slim. Jaw shifts, and Tawnie ponders briefly, opposite hand risen to rub along his rough jaw before words again begin to wander.
“No, I wont be here forever. No one will be, but, there will always be someone. You can do it on your own, if’n that is what you want, but it doesn’t hurt ‘ta have others there ‘ta support you--I think you’ll find it’ll make things easier if you do.”
Shoulders lax, and even he had begun to forget about the chill in the air, far too casual in the way the pair nestled; wings unmoving and offering abundant comfort as long as one sought for it. Warmth in his chest and vulture feels selfish to relish among huntsman’s turmoil, that he was growing comfortable the longer they sat, that they spoke, and that Tawnie attempted to voice advice he hopes will settle doubts.
Lips thin and thick brows furrow, throat forcing itself to clear lest he falter in his own head.
“You--...shouldn’t ever feel that you have ‘ta do anythin’ alone, that you can’t ask for help when you need it. The world we live in is dangerous, ‘n we’re trained in teams ‘ta take it on--not as individuals.”
A worry that he speaks too much, that faunus couldn’t quiet his own mouth, and uncertainty dawns with a shift of attention, gaze flickering out across Atlas’ balcony. Chest heaves, hot breath expels, and a soft curse rattles in his head in inability to condense thoughts to bite-sized pieces.
“...Just know, that it’s not only me that wants ‘ta see you move forward.”
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