open + closed prompts

[unpromising]

Who: Qrow Branwen (unpromising) + anyone.
What: Catch-all for the second part of the event.
When: Oct.
Where: A carriage, Wyver.
Warning(s): Will add as needed.

TRAVELLING TO WYVER.
[ Qrow's been told that this whole epidemic and then some has been more than a warm welcome for him and rest of the refugees in his batch. He couldn't agree more, but he also thinks that it could be a lot worse. He thinks deeply about the situation, as well as the situation he was once in back in his own world. He broods silently, and the only noise that comes out of his person is the alcohol hitting the walls of his flask as he fishes it out of his pocket.

Drinking some of it hits him hard, a burning feeling down his throat. This is already normal for him, but it doesn't mean he's averse to the side-effects of alcohol. It's why he decides to initiate conversation. This carriage ride would be a lot more exciting if the other people he was riding with would actually speak up a little.

Any unlucky person who manages to look him in the eye will be subject to having a conversation with him. (I'm sorry.) ]

Any chance you got a snack on you?

[ Okay, maybe it's not a conversation after all, but more of a beginning of a request. ]


FIGHTING PIT.
[ A new place means new opportunities - Qrow said literally never. He's not an optimistic man, and it's why he just trucks along without looking forward to much. Olympia was a strange experience (understatement), and so is Wyver. It's still difficult to accept that Remnant is gone and that he's the only one here so far. Also, he doesn't have anybody to bum off of, and he has to make his own money to be able to keep the alcohol in his blood pumping.

Also, food. Food is very important, and he needs money for food, as well.

Qrow's decided to do what he's more accustomed to, which is fighting. His injury's healed and he's a lot more nimble now, which is why he's begun to rack up quite a few wins in this fighting pit he's in. Fortunately, death isn't a punishment nor is it a prize to anybody who loses. The only consequence is shame.

One might find themselves being Qrow's next competition. Weapons are allowed, and Qrow himself is wielding a sword. It can turn into a shotgun and a scythe, but a shotgun just seems too unfair to use at a time like this. For now, it's just the sword. Perhaps if his competitor pushes him hard, he'll use his scythe.

Or perhaps one finds Qrow after he's done fighting. He's managed to gain enough silver for a week or two. Instead of continuing to fight, he sits in a corner and watches everybody else do it. He doesn't look particularly sociable right now, but loneliness radiates off his entire being. ]


WILDCARD.
[ Feel free to hit me up with a prompt of your own. Here is my plotting comment. ]

[ Note: Qrow brings bad luck to the people near him! Here is more info on it, and please let me know if you're cool w/ your character being affected or not. ]

Comments

[unpromising]

[ He scratches his head, frustrated. Not at Nash, but at the fact that there's barely any food around. ]

Yeah, it looks like it is.

[ A bit hesitant, he takes another bite. He looks so uneasy as he chews and as the flavours spread all over his mouth. This is so weird... god. In the end, he swallows with the help of his whiskey. ]

Ugh... I can't just throw it away, either.

[latkje]

Because you're afraid of insulting me, or because you're afraid of insulting the people who haven't had anything to eat, what with the granaries running dry?

[ After a second, he adds a third option. ] Or is it just because you paid for it?

[unpromising]

[ Why are these questions so accusatory!! ]

Because it's a waste of food.

[ And he is hungry. ]

[latkje]

Well, I wouldn't be insulted. I mean, I would be, but I'm easy to insult.

[ Wait a minute. ]

I should probably start over.

[unpromising]

[ What.

Qrow squints, his lips curled into a frown. ]

Yeah, you probably should.

[latkje]

What I meant was— I'm hard to offend. [ He holds his hands up, apparently finished with his piece of biscuit. ]

It's a side effect of being married.

[unpromising]

[ That gets him to snort. He nods in understanding before taking another sip from his flask. ]

Don't know the feeling. Must be tough.

[latkje]

I recommend it. [ And he sounds sincere. Then he keeps going… ] But only for the first year or so.

[unpromising]

[ NASH, WHAT. ]

What exactly does that mean?

[latkje]

What, you don't know the sayings? "Love is quick, but marriage is long." "Marry in haste, regret at leisure?" [ He considers. Honestly, the discussion is making him miss his wife. ] Maybe it's one of those things that you don't understand until you've tried it. Like my cooking, really.

[unpromising]

This— [ He waves the biscuit on his face. ] This isn't cooking.

[ Sorry, pal. ]

Never heard of those sayings, either. Marriage just isn't for me.

[latkje]

Ouch. [ But true to his words (at least, this one time) he doesn't sound too broken up. ] I can cook real food, too. [ Though maybe not with the things at the Wyver marketplace… ]

What's the problem? Afraid of commitment, or are you just picky?

[unpromising]

It's not both.

[ It's said a bit playfully, too. ]

I just don't want to hurt anyone.

[ And right as he says that, their carriage passes a sudden hump in the road. ]

[latkje]

With an attitude like that, you could just be hurting your—

Ow.

[ He rubs the back of his head. ]

[unpromising]

[ He does the same, but is quick to forget about the pain. ]

You were saying?

[latkje]

You can't go very many places taking only the smooth paths.

[unpromising]

Trust me. My life alone is pretty rough as it is.

[latkje]

That's usually why people get someone to share it with, you realize.

But as I've said, I'm off the market.

[unpromising]

Hate to break it to you, but you're not my type.

[ He likes people who show some leg. ]

[latkje]

[ A sigh. ]

It was never going to work out between us. Doomed from the start, like Juliet and her Romeo.

[unpromising]

... who?

[latkje]

It's a play. Two houses, both alike in dignity, two young lovers, both alike in their early death.

I was in a production a few months back.

[unpromising]

You're a soldier and an actor?

[latkje]

You have to be pretty small to only be one thing.

Anyway, I'm not really a soldier anymore. What is it you do?

[unpromising]

I'm a Huntsman.

[ There's another bump on the road, but it's not as bad as the one from earlier. ]

... was a Huntsman.