[ This is why he'd hidden himself away behind a child. This hurts, in the sort of way he cannot bear. Too many times— and it never stops hurting, visceral and immediate and soul-deep. There is no way to lessen this pain except not to get this close to begin with. Not to leave himself exposed to it.
But he has learned, over and over again, that he has to. He keeps what secrets he can, and failing that, he just... has to bear the loss.
Qrow's voice hitches with tears because of him, and he does not think he can. ]
I...
[ It hits like a blow: Ozpin bit out like a curse, and I was yours said like a certainty. He knows it. Qrow is— was— beyond all others in this lifetime. But trusting Qrow with his life and more, trusting him within the terms of the fight against Salem, is not the same as spilling the whole messy truth of it: everything he regrets, every part of himself he flinches from and tries to bury. Everything that haunts him.
He has not heard the name Ozma spoken in centuries. He hasn't wanted to. He... does not do well, when reminded of all that he's lost. Of all that he will continue losing, again and again without rest until the day Salem wins. Until the day he fails or lets her.
How could he have confessed that? The true weight of it all? There is no way to convey how tired a soul can be, faced with the prospect of eternity. Of failing again and again, ceaselessly, at the hands of someone he had loved.
You did it to protect yourself. Qrow isn't wrong. He was protecting himself from precisely this. ]
Qrow...
[ He is left breathless with the ache of it, at You would've been wrong. In its wake is a brief, ringing silence. ]
It's... more than that. It was nothing you did or didn't do.
[ He shifts forward half a pace, wanting to reach out and knowing better than to try. ]
I was afraid of losing you, yes. [ This is admitted soft and low. ] I did not want to see you fall to the same despair I did. I intended to bear it so that no one else would have to. You have seen the mistakes I've made. [ The lives he wasted in miserable solitude, the lives he stole, and worse— their crusades, their children— ] I am not proud of the man I have been, but I have come to terms with the burdens I bear.
[ Even that is sometimes tenuous. He has hidden behind his lives and his circle and even his Maidens. He has leaned heavily on those who still have the willpower to go out and do good.
Qrow did not need to know the full miserable truth of it. Ignorance may have deprived him of a choice, but it had been kinder. It had hurt less for the both of them. ]
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But he has learned, over and over again, that he has to. He keeps what secrets he can, and failing that, he just... has to bear the loss.
Qrow's voice hitches with tears because of him, and he does not think he can. ]
I...
[ It hits like a blow: Ozpin bit out like a curse, and I was yours said like a certainty. He knows it. Qrow is— was— beyond all others in this lifetime. But trusting Qrow with his life and more, trusting him within the terms of the fight against Salem, is not the same as spilling the whole messy truth of it: everything he regrets, every part of himself he flinches from and tries to bury. Everything that haunts him.
He has not heard the name Ozma spoken in centuries. He hasn't wanted to. He... does not do well, when reminded of all that he's lost. Of all that he will continue losing, again and again without rest until the day Salem wins. Until the day he fails or lets her.
How could he have confessed that? The true weight of it all? There is no way to convey how tired a soul can be, faced with the prospect of eternity. Of failing again and again, ceaselessly, at the hands of someone he had loved.
You did it to protect yourself. Qrow isn't wrong. He was protecting himself from precisely this. ]
Qrow...
[ He is left breathless with the ache of it, at You would've been wrong. In its wake is a brief, ringing silence. ]
It's... more than that. It was nothing you did or didn't do.
[ He shifts forward half a pace, wanting to reach out and knowing better than to try. ]
I was afraid of losing you, yes. [ This is admitted soft and low. ] I did not want to see you fall to the same despair I did. I intended to bear it so that no one else would have to. You have seen the mistakes I've made. [ The lives he wasted in miserable solitude, the lives he stole, and worse— their crusades, their children— ] I am not proud of the man I have been, but I have come to terms with the burdens I bear.
[ Even that is sometimes tenuous. He has hidden behind his lives and his circle and even his Maidens. He has leaned heavily on those who still have the willpower to go out and do good.
Qrow did not need to know the full miserable truth of it. Ignorance may have deprived him of a choice, but it had been kinder. It had hurt less for the both of them. ]
I never meant it as a lack of trust in you.