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]

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.

[latkje]

That sounds like it has a capital letter.

[unpromising]

That's because it does.

We're elite warriors who protect the world from evil, basically. [ He laughs and takes another swig from his flask. ] Not that we knew anything about the Storm, though.

[latkje]

That explains the drinking, huh?

[ He looks up— and less obviously, around— trying to figure out what to say next. The other people in the wagon aren't really paying attention to them, so: ]

The country I was born in is highly religious. [ He's not going to mention his work for the Temple, because he's already claimed two other jobs. ] I've heard a lot of prophecies about the end of the world. I don't know if any of them got it right.

[unpromising]

What? [ He lets out a chuckle. That doesn't explain the drinking - at least, that's not why he drinks all the time. ] Why does any man drink?

[ That makes no sense. ]

I've heard of stories, too. But that's all they were: stories. Guess this wasn't written up yet.

[latkje]

Why does any man drink? [ He knows a lot of answers to this. To borrow courage, to drown sorrows, to quench thirst or prevent it. ] Because he wants to act a certain way and be able to blame it on the liquor.

[ He smiles. It's a joke, and better (and easier) than really dwelling on the end of the world. ]

[unpromising]

First time I've heard of it.

[ When you're an alcoholic, you don't really need a reason! ]

Was that supposed to be a joke?

[latkje]

Yes. Thanks for noticing. [ That might have been sarcastic. It's hard to tell, because he always sounds that way. ]