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Qrow heard Tyrian’s stupid fucking soulsong start up in the back of his head and viciously kicked the wall. Stupid fucking murder soulmate. Raven’s bitch ass tune he could deal with, she was his twin, even if she was a goddamn fucking harlot who fucked off and also tried to kill him. At least she almost never hummed her stupid melody.
Tyrian, though? Every. Fucking. Day.
It wasn’t until Qrow had heard Tyrian humming it under his breath as they tried to kill each other in Oniyuri that the creepily cool leitmotif had turned into a source of unending annoyance.
Apparently murder soulmates were definitely a thing, and Qrow was going to wring Tyrian’s neck until he never had to hear that damned tune in his head again.
It would be nice if Number Three could start doing their thing again. Qrow hadn’t heard that person do anything with their melody in a while.
Knowing his luck, Person Three would also try to kill him.
Tyrian started in again on another rendition of his stupid theme song and Qrow gritted his teeth, pursing his lips as he whistled his own melody to try drown out Callows, and maybe annoy him as well.
The next reprise of Tyrian’s soulsong sounded smug . Qrow was gonna rip off what was left of his tail and shove it so far up Tyrian’s arse the faunus would be tasting his own venom for weeks.
Screw it.
He stomped past the briefing room where everyone else was waiting, shoved open the nearest window, and jumped out without the slightest hesitation. If nothing else, he could at least try to clear his head with a flight.
Or, he thought as he shifted forms with a touch of magic, he could hunt down the maniacal bastard and pay him back for the poisoning.
His wings flapped in the cold breeze as he headed off, unfortunately missing Clover looking outside the briefing room with a confused-yet-hopeful grin.
In the Xiao Long household, there was a bookshelf that was stacked with books that were all about animals. Lots of illustrated guides and glossaries. At least three were about bugs, Ruby had a fascination for creepy-crawlies as a kid, with another devoted specifically to the different species of arachnids. There was a book on dogs, birdwatcher guides to just about everywhere Qrow had visited when he’d had the lien to pick one up, a couple of others about wildlife in general, and then there was one that sat, not on the shelf, but on the coffee table.
The Illustrated Encyclopedia Of Remnant’s Corvids , by Dr Jay Jackdaw.
A gift from Summer, once she and Tai had calmed down about the whole ‘turning into birds’ thing. She was such a brat.
He’d ended up reading it, cover-to-cover, just to make sure that nothing would surprise him about any possible side effects. Ozpin had said there wouldn’t be, but hey, turned out he was wrong.
Qrow didn’t know if it was his natural thief tendencies, honed from being raised as a bandit and a scavenger, or if it was bleed over from his corvid form, but he had a fascination with shiny trinkets. One look at a small treasure hoard stored in a box in Tai’s room gave that away.
But it wasn’t just his tendency to purloin new sparklies, it was all the other random stuff. The way he liked to mess around with people’s hair if he liked them, from messing up Ruby’s do to scruffing Tai’s mop with both hands, gentle carding of calloused fingers through Yang’s golden locks as he treated it with the same care that she did.
Even James got it, with playful flicks to that one piece of his hair that always fell over his face. Then there was the slightly weirder things that couldn’t be brushed off as normal quirkiness, like how he had a tendency to squawk when he got surprised in a sound that was way too similar to a caw.
There was the way his pupils pinned when emotional, which wasn’t technically a crow trait, it was a parrot thing. Tai, resident nerd, had brought that up with Ozpin and gotten a shrug and the answer of ‘it’s magic’. Summer had always liked how his hair fluffed out sometimes, like a bird’s feathers. Head cocks were fairly standard, and he couldn’t really complain about the other eccentricities either.
Not when the usefulness of his bird form far outweighed literally any downside.
It was a weird, nonsensical train of thought, stupid and really irrelevant to his current hunt, but thinking about bird facts and the effects they had on himself was still better then Tyrian’s fuckin-ass clown music.
He hated that guy.
He broke out of his musings as he heard Number Three’s soulsong enter his head, clear as mud, the sound dimmed by his different form. He flapped his wings as he scanned for a good perch, landing on a streetlight as his talons clicked on the cold metal. He cocked his head, listening to the melody in his head.
It was a lot more jaunty and triumphant to Raven’s dirge and Tyrian’s whatever-the-fuck. He knew his own was able to be both victorious and melancholic at the same time, depending on how fast he strung the notes together in his head.
Number Three reminded him of an honest-to-gods sea shanty, sometimes. Made him think of rolling waves or still waters. Raven’s put him in mind of cold shadows and moonlight scattered by clouds, and Tyrian’s was fucking clown music or something stupid like that, fuck, Qrow hated that slimy bastard.
It was nice to hear Person Three was still around though.
Speaking of, it would be smartest to head back to Atlas. He’d missed whatever mission he was assigned for today, instead hunting down Tyrian himself from the skies. Nothing, not that he expected to spot the faunus when the sun was out. Tyrian was a predator, he’d probably stick to the natural advantage the darkness gave his faunus eyes.
Not only that, but people feared the night, as a whole. Night time was when people were vulnerable, when they slept, when they locked up their homes and tried to avoid the unsavoury types lurking out in the shadows.
Only two people worked at night, in Qrow’s opinion. Criminals and Huntsmen.
He flew in through his own window, always left open just in case, and landed in a crouch, straightening up and fixing his hair before he opened the door to a set of seafoam green eyes and a shiny clover pin.
Sometimes he really wanted to nick that pin, but he refrained. Personal trinkets to others were something he’d long since made off-limits to himself.
Still, this was a surprise. “Clover. Hey. What’s up?”
“You missed briefing,” Clover’s hands were folded behind his back, but there wasn’t accusation on his face. Rather, he looked pleased and like he was trying to hide it. “Any reason why?”
“Went looking for Tyrian.” There was a vibrant purple scar on his side that was going to be a permanent reminder of their first duel. “Didn’t find him.”
“You should be more careful, instead of going off alone. Our records show that he’s a very dangerous individual.” Clover’s hidden enthusiasm faded to concern.
Qrow shrugged it off. “Yeah, I know. He and I had a fight.”
“In Oniyuri? That’s what Ren, Nora and Ruby said after the rally.”
Qrow crossed his arms. “Bingo.” He should probably invite Clover into the shoebox that James had given him access to. Letting him stand in the doorway seemed weird. “You coming in?”
Clover blinked and recovered. “Oh- yeah, sure, of course.” He stepped in and waited for Qrow to give him the nod before sitting down. “You fought him and he apparently nearly killed you. Next time it would be best for you to bring back up.”
“We had a mutual aura break.” If Ruby had just stayed out of the way then he would have won, or at least taken the freak down with him. “I’ll get him next time.”
“I see. Well, next time, make sure you call it in so that-” there was a moment’s hesitation as Clover seemed to skip over whatever word he was about to say, before continuing smoothly like the break had never happened, “there can be back up ready to cover for you.” Clover looked him in the eye. “Alright?”
Qrow looked back, and realised that Clover was offering to be that back up. That he was asking Qrow to promise not to go in alone. Qrow’s mouth felt a little dry as he nodded, before deciding to not be a jerk and actually answer. “Yeah. Okay.”
Clover’s determined look softened a little as he smiled, laugh lines creasing in his face. They were similar to the crow’s feet that were forming at the creases of Qrow’s eyes, and they suited Clover, made him look steady. Steady was good, compared to Qrow’s life of unpredictability.
Qrow realised he was maybe staring a little bit when Clover quirked a brow curiously, his greying hair fluffing up as he dropped his eyes to his hands, fiddling with his rings and spinning one on his finger. “So. Anything else?”
“No, that’s everything.” Clover was still smiling, and Qrow had a mad thought of inviting him to stick around and hang out for the night.
He shook that off too. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea. “Cool. I’m gonna head out, check on the kids. See you at the briefing?”
Clover looked almost put out by that, but he smiled gracefully and stood, brushing off his uniform and flicking his pin. Weird. Qrow thought he only did that when he wanted to be extra lucky. Clover paid no heed to Qrow’s cocked head and raised brow as he spoke. “I’ll see you there. Enjoy your evening, Qrow.”
“You too, Shamrock.” He gave him a wave off as the ace operative walked by, hands folding behind his back as he stepped out. Qrow couldn’t help but watch him go, noticing a faint bounce to Clover’s steps before he heard the man humming something, the sound fading into the ambient noise as he left.
That was Soulmate Number Three’s tune.
Qrow grinned. Son of a bitch.