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A growl to roll off a tongue still laced in the bitter, familiar burn of alcohol. Its rough sound would be followed by the vicious swing of his sword, slicing through a bothersome Beowulf with barely any effort. Yet the action was full of adrenaline, the Huntsman brimming with it after fighting off countless automatons and beasts.
Qrow was so very tired – or rather, irritated – of mowing through these things, inquiring to himself of when the steady flow would end. The thought is tossed away when a bystander is threatened, their fear clear in their expressions and actions as they find themselves pinned. He was efficient in ending the danger and shooing the innocents to shelter, to the safety that would guarantee their lives. He was irritated, yes. But he’d faced worse dangers in his years and while this was a bit endless, it was not hard. It was his duty to protect, even when he was wrapped in a miasma of resentment and the simple wish to forget.
So he would do that. He would cut down enough so that he could move alongside Glynda, who was preoccupied with her own sort of swarm up ahead.
Only a second did Qrow’s attention waver and it turned to be a mistake. He heard a wail, one of a little girl in the distance and his head shifted to that direction.
He always found himself hating the scream or cry of a child, it reminded him far too much of the past. Of a little Yang with a look of utter terror and a weeping Ruby, not old enough to do much more than toddle in the wagon she was pulled in. He remembered the Grimm that stood over them for the kill and how he’d lost himself in that moment, simply intent on saving his nieces.
It was that memory that cemented every cringe or instinct to save when an adolescent would make any sound that did not deem joyous.
And it was that memory that served his distraction and provided the means for a droid to shoot, the blast burning his shoulder and jostling him. It allowed for one of the beasts to attack him, knock him back and send his weapon flying from his grip. He would have struck out, but the Grimm was quick in allowing a clawed paw to lash out, its roar piercing with such close proximity.
And all Qrow could feel from then on was agony.
James was careful.
Prompt in his steps as he held the gun, his visage the definition of stoic as he shot down his robots and the few Grimm that would cross his path. He was irritated at the fact that his ship was so easily stolen by some bothersome vagrant and he had barely a way of gaining hold upon it to shut down what they had caused. He'd found it meddlesome that the creations meant to keep others safe were now puppets to serve in this orchestra of vicious elimination. His clothes were torn, a result of the crash from what occurred earlier. Cybernetics were exposed, glinting and silver but strong as his will was as he took hold of another robot and tore off its head, tossing it back and going on as its body fell to the ground.
A shift in steps would send him down the street corner, weapon at the ready and brows knit. Bodies of what they'd fought strewn about the asphalt and James allowed for a glance to shift over them in case any movement was shown. There was none, minus the small twitch of a body far off, shades of gray and crimson clear enough to the general's eye. It was familiar and it earned a shift in steps from slow and careful to quick and intent. The name is already in his mind and he wonders if the other was knocked away or tossed far, simply gaining his bearings until he could move.
He was caught off guard, that much was certain.
But James did not know to what extent until the distance was closed and he gained a full view of what lay before him.
“..Qrow?” The word is murmured, carried away on a passing wind.
It took a few seconds, perhaps more, for the emotions to sink in. For that firm mask he'd kept for so long to instantly fall apart. And knees would bow to lower the man by Qrow's side.
The stench of blood was overpowering and the sight of it, of how it pooled around Qrow's body, sickened the general in a way that he hadn't felt in years. He'd witnessed his fair share of fallen comrades, of ones he failed to save. He'd seen corpses and felt commiseration, honoring their spirits and furthering his attempts to strengthen his military so the count would no longer grow and tears would not be shed so frequently. But this was different, this one seemed to shake him more than the others had.
A large gaping hole was what first greeted his sights, the night providing a bit of shroud for how terrible the wound was. It was violent, like something tore through him with not an ounce of remorse. It made sense though, perhaps it was a beast. Shallow breaths could be caught, weak and quivering with every intake of air drawn in. It provided some glint of hope that Qrow had not died just yet. But his time was soon to come and that sickness came back full force.
Qrow was powerful, his strength as a veteran quite something to behold. It radiated off of him in waves when he aimed to fight, when that glint in his eye shone with gleeful intensity before his swings grew stronger and his enemies fell. He'd come through a few injuries, but nothing that ever affected him to a point of immobile weakness. He never let anything get the best of him, even when stumbling from countless sips from his flask. James never really saw the other as one to fall to anything like Grimm or rogue robots. It was unimaginable as these were below him, but it seemed that he was wrong in that thought.
So very wrong.
His knees had dipped into warm rouge, but he paid it no mind as he shifted closer. His touch was more gentle than he'd ever allowed it to be as he brushed away dark locks, slick and stuck to Qrow's forehead. He was careful in moving, taking the other into his arms and his organic side, the one that wasn't woven in with gears and steel could feel how cold Qrow's body was becoming. James wanted to shout for help, hopeful that someone would come and save the man. But no paramedic could offer their hand and he was not in a laboratory that could breathe life into a half dead man like he once was.
He just remained where he was, numbly clutching onto the other and breathing sharply when he felt his heartbeat, weak if anything.
"I'm sorry.." Why he apologized, he wasn't sure. "If I.."
If I was fast enough.. If I had been more quicker.. Maybe if I made finding you and Glynda my first and foremost priority.. But I..I did that.. I did that alongside fighting off what I could. And I still didn't make it in time..
He cursed himself. Cursed the damned thing that laid such ruin to that rebellious spark he knew and argued with.
His hold grew tighter yet he retained enough sense to loosen the strength in his right hand, making sure to not bruise the other or create more harm than he already received. His eyes fell closed as his head bowed and he fell deeper into regret. He never hated Qrow, that was never an option. Perhaps he had reason to butt heads with him, their standings on grounds far too different. But he never really despised the other. He had no genuine reason to and somewhere inside, he regarded the other as a comrade even if the other would rather that reality never exist.
"I'm sorry.."
And then he felt a twitch in his arms.
“H-Hey…” A weak voice gasped.
It was small but enough to garner a sharp glance to the source, digits seeming to clench tighter as James met Qrow’s eyes. The bright crimson, full of challenge and cynicism, was now becoming a dull, hazy hue. A shadow of its former life and teasing.
And James never realized how much that shook him until such a situation was shoved roughly into his arms.
His eyes still lingered on that wound and how it still spilled warmth with every beat of his heart. It must have been agony to even be awake right now, unconsciousness must have been bliss compared to being awake. Or maybe Qrow had long since passed the ability to feel pain.
“My eyes are up here asshole…” A rasp of a laugh to leave bloodied lips and a wide grin to soon follow that almost made James forget that Qrow was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. "Now's not the time to ogle me, Jimmy.."
"Qrow.." James said and ah, his voice was frantic. "What happened? You must have had it under control! How did you--"
"A kid was screaming.. I couldn't just ignore it." A flicker of red to the buildings in the distance, as if he was still fretting over the safety of that child. He hoped that girl was fine, that a Huntsman or Huntress or even a simple person managed to keep her out of harm. "One of those robots got the drop on me and got me right in the shoulder.. Grimm got me right after.."
And then he looks to the corpse of the damned Beowolf, struck by the last vestiges of strength Qrow carried in his fist.
James looked that way as well and while he may have been impressed by the fact that even when he was so badly injured, he managed to kill the beast.. the grief, the anger, the frustration was far too much for impressions.
"You look down, Jimmy.."
A sigh, more weary than exasperated.
"James.."
It's a weak argument, a habit that he long since found futile what with Qrow's stubbornness to use his real name. It earned a roll of the eyes from the other, lips quirking slightly at the comeback because even now, that was something that never changed.
It fell though in favor of a cough, wet and miserable as he hacked drops of blood that stained Jame's skin but the latter paid it no mind.
The general heard a distant whistle, like something falling from the sky but he couldn't be bothered to check its source.
Qrow simply hummed as he peered to the other. "Looks like your ship won't be much of a walk, eh?"
"Qrow.."
He didn't even care about his ship now.. not anymore.
"Hey. Do me a favor.. okay?" He muttered, eyes losing focus for a moment before they gazed into deep blue. Though deep inside, he wanted to fight to live, there was no way and he'd grown to accept it in the time he had alone before James came. "Ruby.. and Yang.. I know they're at Beacon fighting with every bit of their strength.. just like I know they are. Could you find them..? Get them away from all of this.. and tell them I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted to do to them was leave early.."
James opened his mouth to protest, as if he wanted to say that the other could speak his goodbyes to the girls or better yet, survive. But that was a false dream, a shining hope that fell into the darkness and became dust.
"Y'hear me..?" Qrow asks.
"..Yes. I promise."
"Good.. That's good.. Never thought I'd feel so tired.."
"..Not yet. Don't take a nap just yet."
The click of heels was heard behind them, panting a tad heavy but ignored as a feminine voice that James could not forget called out. He was glad that Glynda survived this unscathed, rather not wanting to see another body besides the one he held now.
"James! Where were you? What happened? What's..." And her inquiry would die off, a soft gasp to give way as her steps slowed. Her voice seemed to waver -- just a bit. "Qrow.."
Qrow did not answer, barely hanging on as it is as he allowed his gaze to shift to her before looking to James once more. The general seemed to avert his gaze for so long but a whisper of his name was all it took to capture his attention once more.
"..Don't worry too much, you idiot." Qrow said, "It's not like I won't see you again one day... Just make sure it's a long while from now.."
And that gained a laugh much too similar to a weak sob. He wasn't James Ironwood, the general of the Atlesian military now. He was simply James, a man who was losing someone he would call close to him. Qrow didn't seem to fear death all that much, while he was dreading its grasp on the raven haired male's life.
"I'll keep that in mind, Qrow.."
Another croak of a laugh, much more genuine and warm as Qrow leaned against James, far too exhausted to even keep his head up. He'd said his words, he hoped that Ruby and Yang would forgive him. To lose Summer as children and then him just as all this discord is fashioned.. it would be hard. But he knew they'd be fine in the end.
When the darkness claimed him finally, he found himself comfortable and more at peace than he had been in a while.
When James felt Qrow fall limp against him, his final breath a soft exhale like one who was deep in a dream, he simply held closer and swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt Glynda rest a hand upon his shoulder and it was all the more harder to keep from breaking.
He'd lost comrades.
But losing Qrow was harder than he would have ever imagined.