#flightofaqrow

[unlockthestars]

Kiss roulette // Accepting

@flightofaqrow asked: 🎲 Glynda

RESULT: 18. A kiss while laughing

While the two of them hadn't been placed on the same team, Qrow and Glynda had quickly found that, when the rest of their teams were busy, they could make for good study or sparring partners. And then they'd become formed something of a friendship, though it was quickly becoming apparent that there might be some feelings involved.

Qrow was unlike anyone she'd ever met before, and it was clear that he cared more about people than he was usually willing to let on right away, something they had in common. They both had people in their lives they needed to take care of, but they both wanted something of their own, as well.

There was just something about him that had drawn her to him…., and she was pretty sure he felt similarly.

They were parked out under a tree, going over the latest coursework for one of their classes when Qrow did a spot-on impression of their professor, prompting a laugh from the blonde. When Qrow started to laugh, too, Glynda used the moment of distraction to lean in close, pressing a soft kiss to laughing lips. It hadn't been planned; it had been a completely spur of the moment gesture, but when she'd seen him laugh like that…., she hadn't been able to resist.

[livestosave]

@flightofaqrow​ liked for a starter!

      Well. It had been awhile, hadn’t it?

     The Valish docks had never exactly been the most well-policed district of the city. If anything, they tended more towards the proverbial ‘red light district.’ More than a few brothels - legal and otherwise - could be found along the waterfront, and the bars and seedier inns tended to be old, rundown, and shady enough they remained shadowed in direct sunlight - a magic trick Ozma and he had spent several years trying to emulate, to no avail.

      Tonight, however, what had started as a nice stroll along the waterfront had turned to something quite a bit more sinister, as the headmaster found himself in an alley that came rather abruptly to a dead-end.

      Damn.

     Carefully, the man turned to face his small ‘following,’ which appeared to be one of the nastier gangs in the city, with both hands folded neatly over the top of his cane. Perhaps he should have taken Ozma’s advice that this was a poor time to desire some of the sea air…unfortunately for them both, Ozpin had never exactly had an abundance of common sense in such a department. Nor had he made it a habit to be easily swayed from such a course of action. Alas for Ozma’s patience, and his poor hip.

     Before the headmaster could even open his mouth to speak, however, he caught sight of a familiar flash of crimson, and a warm, soft chuckle escaped his lips as he tipped his head towards it, ignoring the confused and now slightly more-than-annoyed thugs. More than likely, Ozpin could have handled them himself, had the need arisen...with help, however? Should the need yet arise, he had no doubts whatsoever.

      “Were you following me, my dear Qrow?  Or has a stroke of good fortune brought you to me in my ‘time of need,’ as it were?”

      Fondness and warmth dripped from his voice, smile growing a bit as he turned honey-brown eyes to the thugs

[vanilleneo]

@flightofaqrow: "i'm disappointed you dont smell like ice cream."

Confusion briefly flashes across Neo's expression, before it drops back down into her more usual irritable neutrality, snapping her fingers to summon the illusory words that hover in the air between the two of them like real-time subtitles: YOU DON'T EXACTLY SMELL LIKE A TREAT YOURSELF.

unprompted

[the-gray-maiden]

"how many do i need to send t'make this a private show instead (¬‿¬)?" yes, qrow's actually making the face.

For every (¬‿¬) I get my muse will remove a piece of clothing. (accepting)

"Well, maybe a few more with a please."

[knightbcrn]

@flightofaqrow asked for: ☂️  for  a  weather  based  starter

Weeks turned to long months on the road, someone somewhere always needed a hand with something. Whether he was mending a fence or tracking down lost kids or fighting Grimm, a helping hand rarely went unappreciated. Especially out in Mistrali sticks. Communities were tight knit out there, but good folks wary of strangers would soften up for a friendly Huntsman. The last man he met– he’d only needed a little help with his confidence for his wedding day– warned him of the coming storm. He’d even offered to let Bryar wait it out in the barn! Charming fella, really, but Bryar had to decline his generosity. 

Foolish, he thought now as he strung up his cloak from a low hanging tree to keep the worst of the rain off his shoulders. Rain pattered softly on the deep green wool, splashing across cobbles left from some long gone glacier before his time. Verdant fields spread out to the north, and east, a creek far to the west where the run-off would drain, and the beginnings of a sparse forest to the west. Far enough from cities that the Grimm weren’t likely to bother him here, and if they did he’d see them coming. Even under ominous purple clouds the creek burbled and the wind was pleasantly cool against his cheeks. Not too bad a place to take shelter, all things considered.

Bryar closed his eyes. His breath was steady in his chest. His feet ached– and his knees too, a gift from his years spent on Remnant. Like the stiffness in his back when he slept under the stars and the streaks of gray creeping in at his temples. He wouldn’t give it up for the world. The dull pinch in his chest on days like today, when thunder rumbled overhead, he could do without. Up he went, taking inventory of his body until he moved to his surroundings. The smell of damp earth, the sound of water dripping from branches to stream past his makeshift tent. 

Footsteps?

Dark brows furrowed over lilac eyes as they flashed open. He hadn’t seen anyone coming up the road, from behind or in front. It was as if this stranger had appeared from thin air, like a spectre! Leaning forward from his shelter, he saw a soaking wet drowned cat of a man loping up the path. Not just a man– a Huntsman? Precious few outside one of their academies could handle the enormous, flat bladed sword strung across his back.

Raising his fingers to his lips, Bryar whistled a long high pitched note to alert the man of his presence. He leaned out from his shelter to wave him in, ghost or no he looked like he could use a little good fortune to get him through the storm.

[hxntresses]

@flightofaqrow asked:

hellooooo nurse.

Fiona pauses before breathing a tired sigh, turning around to face the other. Here we go again.

"Hello to you too, Mister Branwen. How can I help you?"

[littleblackqrow]

You may have answered this one before, but what class(es) did Qrow teach at Signal?

((I've settled on Qrow being mainly a combat teacher who taught an Elective course in Folklore.

Folklore might not seem like a particularly useful subject for Hunters, but these kids are taught how old stories sometimes are connected with traditional ways of mitigating Grimm, or hold old lessons that are useful to them as they travel. The course is also an introduction into languages and cultures across Remnant, which are going to be incredibly useful if they end up travelling in their career.

The folklore focus also allows Qrow to travel for his spy business. Academia provides a good cover for what he's doing and has the bonus of preserving oral histories in Remnant that might otherwise be lost.

He is going to lose his mind when RWBYJ tell him about the Ever After. That could be his PhD.

[dietrauerweide]

✏️

@flightofaqrow

Willow: How many children do you have? Qrow: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.