Chapter Text
The brutal cold of the white forest path is not nearly enough to numb the crushing guilt that resides in Oscar’s chest. It is a feeling so heavy he feels a physical pain pulsating between his ribs. That, or the bruises to his spine from being punched straight into a tree by an enraged professional huntsman are making themselves known. His jaw is certainly swelling, not healing with his aura being too busy protecting him from the sharp wind that cuts through his natural body heat. Unlike those surrounding him, he isn’t wearing any layers, just some meager ratty clothes from the farm he hasn’t replaced and boots that were three miles of walking away from falling apart completely.
His cheeks, both red but one tinted purple and blue, are crusty with frozen tears. They’re not his tears—well, they weren’t, at first, but shortly after being wordlessly shunned by team QRWBY and falling to the back of the pack, Oscar couldn’t hold back soft, broken sobs of his own, his sniffles and pathetic mewlings thankfully drowned out by the roar of the growing blizzard. Though, maybe it would earn him some needed sympathy from the girls to see him shivering and broken. Ah , then again, they’d beaten down a man sobbing before them on his knees, his traumas ripped straight from his hands and displayed to what were practically strangers in the grand scheme of his life.
Deeply personal memories handed to them on a silver platter that Oscar had prepared. It seemed so righteous, back in the moment, to stop Ozpin from hiding Jinn and her knowledge. No more secrets, no more half truths, they’d promised. They’d promised , so then why did it still feel so wrong to expose the truth? Was it because this trauma, Ozpin’s—no, Ozma’s— memories, were his own? Were they already far enough in the merging of souls for Ozpin’s desires to match with his own? Or was this simply Oscar heavily empathizing with his partner’s burdens?
He shivers, harder than the current wracking of his thin frame, and almost bites clean through his bottom lip. It takes all of his strength not to break into another bout of sobs.
I’m so sorry, Ozpin.
He can’t think of much else to say, or rather, think. He just hopes with all of his heart that Ozpin will return from where he’s locked himself deep inside, triggered by these resurfaced horrors and berratings. Ozpin’s presence is desolate, hollow, just a ghost of a sensation in the dark corners of his mind. Oscar had become so accustomed to Ozpin’s company (against his will, but he digresses) that not having him here somehow feels worse. This is what he had wanted, back in the beginning of his life’s end— to have his own mind to himself. Though, he supposes it’s not truly his again. Ozpin may be unresponsive, but he’s still there .
Sure, the girls and Qrow (especially Qrow) had a reason to lash out, to feel betrayed by the dooming news they’d learned, but wasn’t it obvious that Ozpin felt a deep pain for his actions? That he was a broken man trying his best, as misguided as he may have been?
And what ever happened to ‘don’t shoot the messenger’? Oscar clenches his chattering teeth and rubs his jaw, glaring dull daggers into the back of Qrow’s head. Not that he’ll ever voice his anger at the unfair treatment, lest he get clobbered a second time, but he deserves some silent fuming of his own.
The girls begin arguing among themselves yet again, but Oscar can hardly hear them from how far back he’s strayed from the pack. Idly, as he watches them argue, he wonders if they would even miss him if he were to… disappear. Sure, they’d bonded a bit in Mistral, but was one month really enough to secure him a place in their hearts? Ruby, maybe, and perhaps even Weiss, but Oscar barely knows Blake, and Yang was… Yang had distrusted Ozpin from the moment they (being she and Oscar) met, and it was apparent she no longer saw Oscar as his own person. And now that all of them hated their former professor, the one thing giving Oscar worth in their cause, what was protecting him now? Whereas before this he was a precious vessel for the reincarnating beacon of wisdom, now he is just a farm boy with mediocre huntsman skills harboring a man deemed untrustworthy and suspicious.
The group pauses, heads and ears perked as they seemingly listen for something in the distance. How anyone can hear over the chattering of their own teeth and the wind, Oscar doesn’t know. Yet another skill that sets them apart as capable huntsman, he supposes. Ruby leads them further down the path, a small spark of determination in her eyes upon an apparent discovery of something to walk towards. She spares a quick glance back at Oscar, but he can’t muster up even a fake smile for her benefit. Instead, his gaze falls back to his boots, unable to feel thankful for her concern at the moment.
The Brunswick Farms are scary, but they’re shelter. Dead people in beds, either starved to death or poisoned, or killed by something else entirely, are not exactly a promising sign, but it’s better than freezing to death in a flurry. This scenario could be straight out of one of those horror novels Oscar liked to read near Halloween every year, back on his own farm. He prefers fantasy novels, but a murder mystery or psychological horror story always helps get him into the October holiday spirit.
Now, by the fireplace in the living room, Maria was reading the house owner’s diary. The first of a series. It’s boring, and Oscar’s head pounds wickedly from the stress of the day, but Maria is the only one actively providing Oscar with hospitality, despite her cold and snappy personality, so he sits on the floor close to her and indulges her narration.
She reads with a singular tone, and while it’s not bad, it only reminds Oscar of the stories Ozpin would tell him in their downtime, of his (their) past lives. Ozpin had lost himself in the retellings at times, slipping into different voices for the people he’d met, some of the impersonations downright silly or poor attempts at foreign accents, and Oscar would laugh at how unnatural the imitations sounded in his own voice when he allowed Ozpin to take control and take a spin with tongue rather than mind.
Thinking back to the man, Oscar pulls his knees closer to his chest, fighting back another bout of tears. Maria, bless her heart, doesn’t say anything if she notices the way Oscar curls into himself, and later doesn’t question when he excuses himself to use the restroom.
Out of view, he locks the door behind him immediately and hunches over the sink, tears splashing into the porcelain as he shudders through choked sobs. He doesn’t do well to hold back his whimpers, but thankfully no one else is near, and the old lady in the other room is hard of hearing, and has the right mind not to pry if she does somehow hear him. Though just as quickly as his pity party begins, it is interrupted by a powerful wave of guilt flooding his body. But it isn’t his own guilt, which shocks him from his breakdown enough to wipe his tears away and look into the mirror, eyes wide, hopeful but disbelieving.
“Oz?” He hiccups, voice barely above a whisper. Involuntarily, his tail wags.
Yes.
“You- you’re back. Already? ”
Only for you.
He shouldn’t, it’s selfish given their circumstances, but Oscar smiles at his mirror image. As quick as the smile graces his lips it falls, and he leans in closer, as if his reflection were the other man.
“I’m so sorry, Ozpin. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t told Ruby about the relic-” He stops, his jaw clamping shut against his will, Ozpin’s own feelings of guilt overpowering his own.
That’s enough. You have nothing to apologize for, Oscar.
Fondness. Protectiveness.
“ But…”
Ozpin’s pained smile manages to twitch Oscar’s lip.
What you did was what you believed to be the right choice, in the end, as much pain as it may have caused. It was admirable of you to take agency like that.
“Even though it… ended up..?”
You couldn’t have possibly known the outcome would be so disastrous. Honestly, it could have been much worse, wouldn’t you agree?
Yes, they could have done much worse than a right hook and some yelling. But that doesn’t exactly excuse their treatment of Ozpin, or of him. He voices his thoughts with a childish pout.
No, it does not, though their actions have merit. It’s all a bit of a gray area, isn’t it?
“I guess. Does that mean you’re… are you going to talk to them?”
Silence.
Oscar worries his bottom lip, brow scrunched as he stares deep into his own eyes. At the lack of response, he cautiously pushes into his own mind, searching for the man’s presence, “Ozpin?”
Sorry, I… Somehow, for a voice that has no vocal chords, Ozpin’s voice manages to shake. Vulnerability encases Oscar and he wraps his arms around himself, shoulders heavy with a crushing weight. Fear? Despair?
I’m sorry, Oscar. The boy trembles, not for himself but for the haunting tone of the man inside him. He’d never heard Ozpin sound so shaken, outside of what transpired earlier today. During his fight with Hazel he’d been heavily concerned, a bit frantic, even, but not nearly this scared. Trembling, he clutches his own arms tighter, the worn leather of his gloves wrinkling between his fingers and palms.
“I-it’s okay. If you don’t want to- can’t talk to them yet, I won’t make you. I won’t tell them you’re still here.” His eyes are dry now, irritatingly so in the biting cold without a warm fireplace near. “You’re hurt, and you need time to heal. The least I can do is let you rest in peace.”
An interesting choice of words to use on someone who is dead.
The boy blushes, eyes blowing wide and flying to meet their own gaze in the mirror. Just as he opens his mouth to apologize, he’s cut off by Ozpin’s faint laughter. It’s quiet, small and tight, but the sound of it is enough to bring a small feathery laugh out of Oscar himself. Together, the two share a serene moment, Ozpin’s amused chuckle strained but genuine, and Oscar a nervous, relieved, and awkward bundle of emotions all at once. He wipes the drying tears from his cheeks yet again, some heat returned to his face and light to his eyes.
“I’m going to go back now. Um… you’ll be around, though, right? Like you always are?”
I may be a bit distant but… yes. I will be here for you, Oscar.
They stare at each other for one last lingering moment. They’re both tired, exhausted, and drained emotionally and physically, but the emotions that flow between them freely within Oscar’s mind are enough to fill in the blanks where they can’t find the words to express.
Thank you, Ozpin says anyways, and the two words are accompanied by a flood of fondness for Oscar so strong that the boy can’t help feeling both flustered and humbled at once.
He returns to Maria. The elderly woman hadn’t paused her reading for Oscar’s sake, continuing on in silence, but does begin to read aloud again once he’s settled on the floor next to her, a pillow pulled from the couch and into his chest. His eyes are still red, but like before Maria doesn’t bring attention to it. He’s not sure she even looks at him, with no discernible pupils to gauge where her gaze may be. They sit for a while longer, alone together, the crackling of the fireplace and the muffled roaring of the storm harmonizing under Maria’s story.
Ruby and Weiss return first, cans of food stacked in their arms and the slightest pep in their step. At least some spirits have returned to them, for now, though they look dead tired and their smiles don’t reach their eyes. They place the cans next to the fire, then sit, leaving an open space between them; an invitation for Oscar.
Ozpin’s paternal feelings of fondness for the two girls blend seamlessly with Oscar’s own admiration as he stands and accepts their olive branch. Maria continues reading silently, gracing them with room to talk. The boy sits between the two girls, pillow on his lap, fingers fidgeting with a loose string. If Maria hadn’t noticed his red eyes, there was no doubt the two girls did.
Wordlessly, they scoot closer, so their shoulders brush Oscar on both sides. His tail curls to the right, brushing against Weiss’s back.
“How are you holding up?” Weiss asks, raising her palms towards the fire. Her tone is delicate, like glass wind chimes twinkling in a light breeze. Oscar had always found her voice the prettiest of the teams, though Ren’s was a strong contender for second place.
Slumping with a sigh, Oscar says, “I’m okay. Besides the bruises on my back… and jaw. And the thousands of years of relived traumatic memories.” He tries for a joke, but it falls flat. He’s tired.
“I’m sorry,” Ruby says, hand rubbing his shoulder blade in comforting circles. “Is your aura not healing it?”
“It’s too busy protecting me from freezing to death, I think.”
I can help with that, if you’ll allow me.
No… a spontaneous surge of aura would be way too suspicious, and Oscar doesn’t know if he could lie straight through his teeth about Ozpin’s return. It’s bad enough he’s doing exactly as Oz had done by withholding the truth, he’s not going to lie right to his friend’s faces.
Or perhaps not. I can sense you’re troubled. Please, don’t let me distract you from this moment.
“Well maybe getting some food in you will help!” Ruby exclaims, leaning forward to grab a can of beans. “We were going to wait for Yang and Blake before busting these open, but I don’t think they’ll care if you have some early.”
“I don’t think they care much for me at all right now in general,” he mumbles, unable to shake the small grudge he’s holding against Yang. And with the way Blake is attached to the blonde’s hip, Oscar has no doubt she’d choose Yang’s opinion over Oscar’s.
Ruby chews her inner cheek, turmoil in her eyes. Weiss yawns, politely covering her mouth with a hand. Graceful even at their lowest point.
“Yang’s just… she’s stubborn. She takes after her mom. At least, that’s what Uncle Qrow and Dad say. She might not be able to see past her anger of Ozpin to see you , right now. Which isn’t okay! I just- I’ll talk to her. You don’t deserve to be the— um, for lack of better term, punching bag.”
She winces.
“Not my best motivational speech, huh?”
Oscar giggles, shaking his head. Ruby smiles in relief, she and Weiss sharing a meaningful look over his head. She, too, then yawns, arms stretching high above her head. Gathering some cans in her arms, she pushes herself to her feet.
“Come on, Weiss, let’s go prepare dinner! I hope they have salt…” Ruby bounces on her toes as Weiss collects her half of the cans and stands. She looks down at Oscar with sympathy and a fondness so strong the boy can only compare it to his aunt’s.
“Want to join us?” She asks, but he shakes his head.
“Can’t; buddy system.” He nods towards Maria. “But thank you, Weiss. Just make sure she doesn’t drown us in salt?”
Ruby had been allowed to cook on her own once in Mistral. That number never increased for a reason.
“You got it, chef.” Weiss winks, then turns and joins Ruby in the entranceway before the two disappear into the kitchen. Thus leaving Oscar alone again. Or, as alone as he could be with two old people. Does the term senile apply to either of them?
Hey.
“I thought you couldn’t read my thoughts?” he whispers, facing away from Maria.
I can’t yet, but I can feel you being a mischievous little… child.
He rolls his eyes with a smile, ignoring Ozpin’s implied insult. The man had a funny distaste for cursing. “It would be helpful if I could talk to you without actually talking out loud, especially now that I’m…”
Doing the very thing that got us into this mess?
He grimaces. “Yeah. That. It feels horrible. How did you do it so easily?”
It became second nature. As natural as one breathes.
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
I did what was needed for the survival of humanity.
He doesn’t know what to say to that. Oscar has always considered himself honest and loyal, right down to the bone, but something about Ozpin’s reaction to Jinn caused him to second guess his moral upbringing entirely. Could it be good to lie? For the better good? If Ruby and the others never learned of Ozpin’s secrets, wouldn’t they be much more hopeful now? Still determined?
Ozpin wouldn’t be in his current state, that’s for sure. If Oscar focuses, really reaches back towards Ozpin, he can feel the pure hurt the other man holds in his heart. Behind clenched eyelids, he sees flashes of his daughters, their scared eyes wide and afraid.
Quickly, with a gasp, he pulls back. Even just a small glimpse is too raw, too much for Oscar’s heart to handle. He shakes his head, attempting to stop that connection before it can hurt either of them further.
“Sorry.”
My life is yours. Causally stated, as if he would shrug if he had a body. You will know these memories like the back of your hand, one day.
“I shouldn’t pry like that. Especially not so soon.”
Oscar… The man pauses, a great apprehension bubbling within him. I only wish to protect you from my burdens, as much as I can before they become your own. From here on, if you wish to know something, you are free to search for the answers. The fact that you are allowing me to recover out of sight for my own selfish needs means very much to me, the least I can do is be completely honest with you moving forward.
“I think it’s okay to be selfish, sometimes. You need to heal, even if your wounds aren’t physical,” he argues weakly. Though, he knows it is hypocritical to hide Ozpin’s return like this. Is it so wrong, though, for him to have the man to himself for just one night? Maybe a few more? Ozpin’s presence certainly wouldn’t put a smile on anyone’s face in their current states. The more he thinks about it, the more he sees the advantage of Ozpin’s ways. Is that his own mind speaking, though, or just another part of the merge?
He groans, clutching his hair. It hurts to think about. The pounding behind his eyes is almost unbearable. He doesn’t know where his consciousness ends and Ozpin’s begins anymore. Is he even still his own person? Are his changes of opinion a sign of growth or corruption?
It’s alright, Ozpin soothes him, a wave of calm rushing through his body, though a bit of Ozpin’s guilt leaks with it. You’ve done so much for me already, Oscar. If you wish to come clean to the girls, I won’t stop you. The man can put on a bold facade all he wants, but Ozpin can’t disguise how badly he does not want Oscar to make that choice. One advantage of their emotional link; there is no hiding feelings. Oscar hadn’t any plans to do so in the near future, luckily for the old soul.
“I don’t want to ,” the boy hisses, silently, still very aware of the old woman reading her book behind him across the room. “I don’t want them to shun me again, I don’t want to be punched or yelled at, and I don’t want to hurt you. I’m being selfish, too.”
I- thank you. But my feelings hardly matter-
“Don’t they?” He clutches harder, his scalp burning. “We share a mind, we share a heart. I care about you, too, Ozpin. Maybe even… most of all. Because you know me , and- you’re- we’re-“ He cuts himself off with a choked croak.
I care for you, too, Oscar. His hands fall to his lap against his command. Not just because you’re my host, but because I care for you as your own person. Please stop hurting yourself. Breathe.
He obeys, slowing himself down, following Ozpin’s counting until his heart has calmed considerably. The headache, however, does not dull.
I know this is all very confusing and, admittedly, a bit torturous, but I am here for you. I always will be. It’s ironic that this statement is what serves to calm him most. Whatever choices you decide to make moving forward, I will not stop you. I owe you that and much more.
“Okay,” he mumbles, head hanging limply. He’s so tired.
“If you’re done with your mental breakdown, how about listening to the rest of this story? There’s only one entry left in this first book and you’ve missed quite a bit!” Maria says from her spot on the couch. Oscar startles, whipping his head around to look at her, stuttering.
“I- sorry! I was trying to talk to him-“
“I don’t care," she snaps with a dismissive wave of her hand, but softens, a considerate twitch to her lips. “A distraction might do you some good, young man, so let an old lady entertain you before she dies of boredom.”
He laughs, almost in disbelief at how well she manages to balance sassy and considerate.
Go, indulge the poor woman. I’ll be just a whisper away.
“ Thank you,” he says, to the both of them.
Maria narrates as Oscar paces, a need to burn off some manic energy so he doesn’t slip up and confess everything or break down again. While he paces, Blake and Yang return, the air between them thick with a tension Oscar wants absolutely no part of, no thank you. So he relocates his pacing behind Maria as the two girls sit by the fire, the old lady serving as a physical and metaphorical barrier between them. She opens the second book and continues reading with no hesitation, sometimes falling silent to catch a breather and process the diary on her own, leaving Oscar’s footsteps against the soft wooden floors to fill the void left in her voice’s absence.
Thankfully, heating up some canned beans and vegetables doesn’t take too long with the help of fire dust, and the utensils and plates left behind from the deceased family were all located in the cabinets, collecting normal dust without a scratch on them. Weiss returns to the living space first, carrying a stack of cleaned plates and glasses with the grace of a princess raised on perfect posture, straight from the movies. Oscar rushes to relieve her of half her load, taking the stack of plates for himself to place them on the coffee table. Ruby follows shortly after, a large bowl in each hand, one filled with beans, the other a mix of boiled vegetables.
“Dinner time!” She announces, the bowls coming to rest on the table next to the dinnerware. Steam rises from the food and Oscar’s mouth waters at the smell. It’s nothing special, but hot food is hot food, and he’s a growing boy. Living on a farm taught many things, and one of them was to never look a gift horse in the mouth. Or a cow. “I’ll go get the rest of the cups. Hope you like water with a side of ice!”
Both Oscar and Weiss laugh softly, eyes following their leader fondly as she leaves the room. Leave it up to Ruby to remain optimistic in even the crummiest situations. Blake’s ears swivel at their conversation, but her yellow eyes remain focused on the fire. Yang turns to look at the food, her brow already furrowed, and her gaze meets Oscar’s. The smile falls off of him in an instant, and he isn’t quick enough to reel his emotions backwards before a less than pleasant expression crosses his face. He cools his jets, enough to level his gaze to something neutral and look away, but not before Yang sees. No, she definitely saw Oscar’s hurt, and the tight pull of her lips falls into a frown before she sighs dejectedly and turns back to the fireplace.
He wants to feel guilty, to feel wrong for holding a small grudge, but if anything has changed in Oscar since he embarked on this journey to save the world, it’s his freely given forgiveness. Why should he allow himself to be stepped on by others, just because they’re upset? He’s not going to lash out, Gods no, but he’s no longer going to allow himself to be their punching bag, as Ruby had put it.
If you glare any longer, you might burn a hole into her head.
“Ah-” He begins, then stops with a sharp clack of his teeth.
Careful now.
It’s a bit hard to be careful with someone not making this any easier. Oscar pointedly glares at the floor, hoping Ozpin gets the message. He does, with an air of detached amusement, and recedes back into his subconsciousness.
“What’s wrong?” Weiss asks, turning from where she’d been plating the beans and vegetables onto the plates. Somehow, she’s managed to make them look fancy. As fancy as beans and boiled veggies can get, anyways. Oscar smiles.
“Nothing!” He motions to the plating. “I, uh, like the way you’re doing those?” Okay, that just sounded lame. He clears his throat. “I mean— it’s… neat? That you can manage to make such a simple ‘meal’ look good? I’m so bad at this.”
Weiss, being the angel she is, just laughs sweetly and bobs her head. “Thank you, Oscar, I’m glad someone appreciates the finer details in life. Who knew a rural farm boy would be the most relatable person on this trip.”
“Hey, I like fancy food!” Ruby interjects, haphazardly placing four glasses of water onto the table. Weiss turns without missing a beat and pokes Ruby’s forehead.
“We weren’t talking about the food, Ruby! It’s all about presentation!” Her hand falls to hold her wrist, a wistful smile gracing her lips as she shifts her weight between feet. “Klein used to let me into the kitchen, sometimes, and show me how to decorate dishes for formal events. My favorite part was always topping the dish with a bit of garnish.” She mimics sprinkling toppings onto the dishes, lost in her memory.
Oscar picks up a plate and a fork, surveying the meal with a closer look.
“It looks very pretty, even without the garnish,” he says. “As pretty as canned beans can be.”
She snorts, and now it’s his turn to earn a poke to the forehead.
“I slaved over a hot stove to make this meal,” she says dramatically, throwing a hand over her face like an actress in a melodrama. From underneath her knuckles, she smirks playfully. “You better enjoy it.”
“I know I will,” Ruby says, taking her own plate and plopping down in the middle of the rug, digging into her food before her butt even hits the floor. Oscar sits next to her, Weiss placing their glasses next to them before joining. They leave the semi circle open in case Blake or Yang want to join them, but the two girls take their dinners and sit by the fire in silence. Neither Weiss nor Oscar miss the way Ruby falters in her eating, disappointed by her sister’s self-isolation, before pushing it down. Maria eats in her chair, leaving the three on the rug to murmur amongst themselves quietly.
There’s not much to say, right now; everyone is just waiting for something to happen, something to disturb their first moment of peace together. Weiss, though she smiles and contributes to the conversation, has a distant air about her, and Yang and Blake won’t even speak. Maybe they’re just all tired and things will be better in the morning.
After getting her fill, Ruby leaves in search for Qrow while Oscar and Weiss clean up.
“It would feel wrong to use their belongings without cleaning them,” Oscar had supplied after he suggested scrubbing the dishes, to which Weiss simply shook her head with a smile and jested him for his ‘pure farm boy upbringing.’ Together they stand side by side in front of the kitchen sink, the water still running as Weiss scrubs the dishes and Oscar dries them.
Good to see your manners haven’t gone anywhere.
Oscar rolls his eyes, holding back a snort. It’s almost concerning how quickly he’s coming to terms with the guilt of lying to his friends right in front of their faces. But, one glance at Weiss’s drooping eyelids or troubled expression when she thinks Oscar isn’t looking is enough for him to bite his tongue. This is for the greater good, he reasons, and it’s impossible to tell if he’s lying to himself or not.
They return to the living room minutes before Ruby does, telling them to get some sleep, that Qrow will wake them at sunrise.
“Thank goodness,” Blake says, nursing her temple. Oscar, Blake, and Weiss hand out blankets and pillows, and they all take their places on the floor near the fire, sans Maria and Qrow. Oscar hasn’t seen Qrow in a bit, not since the pairs split off, but he’s not complaining. Ozpin, however, almost vibrates with worry in their headspace. Knowing his fretting has been noticed, Ozpin sighs.
I worry for him the most. Qrow has been one of my most trusted allies— one of my closest friends , for more than half of his life. I can only imagine his heartbreak.
“Not like drinking will make it any better,” Oscar whispers, so softly he can barely even hear himself, wincing when Blake’s ear flicks. She doesn’t so much as shift beyond that, probably too tired to care, or just a coincidence.
Exactly why I worry. I know your feelings towards him are not particularly fond at the moment, but please keep an eye on him.
Why should a grown adult be his problem? He huffs, reminding himself of his own age. Gods, he was acting very childish today.
You’re displeased. I suppose I cannot blame you. He throws a nasty right hook.
Oscar rolls his eyes, but sighs in defeat. Fine, he would add babysitting Qrow to his tally of chores. What’s another to the never ending list?
How about I tell you a bedtime story?
Ouch, really rubbing in Oscar’s recent age-appropriate behavior as of late, wasn’t he? He turns onto his right side, pulling the blanket closer to his chin. Well, he did enjoy Ozpin’s stories a lot, so he wouldn’t argue.
Splendid. This weather reminds me of a certain costume party Glynda will never let me live down…
The old wizard rambles on about his humorous anecdote as Ruby and Yang’s soft snores fill the air. Oscar, only half tuned in from the beginning, is quick to succumb to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow will bring higher spirits.