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Crackling flames, dim lights, the soft tinkling of glasses and cutlery - there’s nothing like the hearty warmth of an inn. But there was nothing but cold there now, ashes tumbling in the wind from the hole blown wide in the foundations of the building, bricks scattered and broken tables and chairs everywhere. Glass was frozen in the harsh winter snowstorm, a once warmly lit building now black as coal, and as black as the hair of the man sitting on the last remaining stool by the bar.
He hung over the wooden bar, metal flask in hand, crooning over the remaining thick, poignant, ruddy brew laying at the bottom. He gently swirled his flash before tilting his head backwards and taking a long, satisfying swig of his alcohol. Swivelling his head back down to rest it on his palm, supported by his elbow on the bar, he let out a ragged sigh.
He quivered his eyelids, his dazzling, crimson-red eyes a hazy glow in the gloom of the destroyed building. Glancing to his right, he chuckled softly as from his own mind, the frosty, fog-bound air around him formed into a corporeal, humane figure. A ghostly woman strolled towards the man, her breathing a gentle breeze on his well-trimmed cheekbone.
She was, as he would see it, beautiful. Prim, with a tightly sewn dress as white as her skin and hair. The figment came to rest beside him, sitting down on thin air, like the original stools of the inn were still standing.
His voice came out hoarsely, his breath seething with alcohol. “Fancy seeing you here, Ice Queen. What’s the occasion…” he purred, but the woman never replied. She softly blinked her eyes at him, a steely blue against pure white. Her hands reached up to brush against his face, and the man flinched, but he didn’t move. The wind stirred, and he swore he heard her speak his name. “Qrow…”
Qrow moved his head slightly to her cupped hand, and he moaned with content. “Did I ever tell you, Winter…” he started, his words slurring, as he turned to the apparition, “about when Ruby smuggled her puppy into Signal?” He asked, referring to his niece, and Zwei, the adorable Corgi and beloved pet of the family. Silence followed, as before, and he continued. “Stuck inside a school backpack, and when the teacher started hearing snivelling noises, opened it up to get a face full of dog fluff.” He recalled, but froze for a moment, then corrected himself. “Actually, it might have been Beacon. No idea. Ozpin was the one who told me.” He muttered, before sitting back straight in his chair.
“She’s a great kid,” he started, flashing a rather proud smile. “I hope she’s proud of how far she’s come. How far she’s come from the little girl I taught back then.” He said, and then chuckled sadly. “It seems so long ago, now…” Qrow sighed remorsefully, tilting back his head to stare at the ceiling. “I guess it’s about time she moved on to start making her own stories. She’s in good company.”
He lowered his head and cocked it back towards the figure of Winter in her slim dress, and he chuckled. “What am I doin’, sitting here, telling these stupid stories?” He chuckled, and the opaque figure turned to him, planted a kiss just above his thin eyebrows, before getting up from her non-existant seat. She was starting to vanish, barely mist in the wind, her eyes the last thing to vanish, locked with his as she strolled away. Qrow turned back to the bar once she had gone, smiling softly at the thought of her. “I wonder if you have your own story too, Winter.” He said softly to himself, getting up from his stool, and sliding his flask into his coat pocket. He turned away, walking clumsily back outside, before his physique shifted, and a jet black crow flew off into the silent, freezing air.