Rwby Clover - Tumblr Posts

I will not give any context if you know you know x,D

Tyrian's deafness

Carries over from his fight with Qrow to his fight with Clover, Qrow, and Robin.

During that fight, Qrow landed the most hits on Tyrian because he uses mostly punches and kicks. Which Tyrian has problems picking out due to the lack of sound.

Robyn lands the fewest hits because her arrows are like her. Annoying and loud.

And Clover's weapon makes noise, but its a rope so Tyrian can't predict the weapon's flight path. Which is why Clover can constantly off-balance Tyrian.

Funnily enough, Clover's weapon manages to capture Tyrian in their final fight.

This started as a Tyrian Post but ended up with me recognizing Clover as the badass who handed Tyrian his ass.

Clover x Harriet: Why Clover wanted Harriet to wear a dress

The waitress was told that it was going to be a quiet party. Celebrating the promotion of the eldest Schnee to aide-de-camp of the famed General James Ironwood, commander of Atlas's Military and Huntsmen divisions. But the waitress was not surprised when a tray of glasses that could douse a city-block fire was dumped unceremoniously into her hands. She only wondered why the flat pumps her uniform provided didn't give way earlier in the night.

"Hey, there!" A man said as he wrapped his arms around a petite, firm waist, "the 67' Schnee-Slopes isn't the best in the cellar. But it's still too good for the carpet."

The voice was like a soufflé. Light and sweet. But the joke was wrapped around a steel core of concern for another person's well-being. The voice belonged to the tallest man the waitress had ever seen. While the strength that held the girl steady as she regained her balance was what she imagined Atlas's strongest Huntsman possessed. No ordinary man could have arms that were at once so firm, yet so gentle as they lifted the waitress back to her feet.

"Thank you, Mr. Ebi," the Waitress seemed to say with her curtsey, and the curious expression on her cupid-smooth face, "a drink?"

Green eyes, emeralds actually, twinkled briefly beneath the crystal of the chandelier lights. The soufflé-voice, undisturbed, confident, charming. Cut through the chatter of the room. It was the only voice the waitress could hear as the Huntsman said.

"Thank you! But I don't drink. Please, take care of yourself."

Clover Ebi watched as the Waitress wobbled away with her precariously balanced tray. He didn't worry too much. That tray will be empty in minutes. Still, though, Clover had never seen anyone else who had eyes that were green in Atlas before. Besides, wasn't that girl a little too young to be a waitress?

"Honored guests! Allow me to announce; Ms. Harriet Bree!"

Oh good! Clover thought as he slipped through the crowd toward the announcer's voice, so she decided to come.

Jacques Schnee, the host of this 'quiet gathering,' had many ballrooms. All in one mansion too. But this room was Jacques's best. Longer than it was wide, decorated with comfortable carpets and warm reds. Cozy warmth that was broken by the clear light of white, crystal chandeliers. It was a blatant contrast to the generally accepted, stylistic tastes of the rest of Atlas; pure white and steel grey. Reflecting the austere discipline that helped the Kingdom thrive in the first days of its founding.

At the head of this long room was a grand staircase, and halfway down the steps stood Harriet Bree; one of Atlas's five strongest Huntsmen, Clover's second-in-command out on the field, and utterly gobsmacked at the attention directed toward her from the assembled guests.

"Harriet!" Clover said, "over here!"

Grateful relief showed itself on Harriet's face, each feature set close enough to recreate a strikingly attractive representation of a rabbit. A representation emphasized by the short mohawk splitting the center of her dark, close-shaved scalp and terminating at two forelocks of blonde hair. Styled upward to look like a pair of rabbit's ears.

"Sir!" Harriet said, "thank heavens you're here!"

Clover laughed as he looped his arm through Harriet's and led her away from the staircase.

"At ease, Ms. Bree. This is a party, not a military parade. Relax, and that's an order."

Harriet's light-purple eyes glanced up toward Clover's. She then said.

"Very funny, Sir. But forgive me if I don't actually laugh. I just … look hideous in this thing!"

In response, Clover stopped, placed his broad hands atop Harriet's shoulders, and spun her around so that her gown could face his appraising eye, and broad lips pursed in deep consideration. It was an ankle-length, sleek, and glossy black piece Clover had tailored for Harriet. Emphasizing Harriet's hips and legs while complementing her slender chest and bare shoulders. Which were so deeply woven with bands of muscle that they resembled armor formed from the sinews of training and a life of combat.

However, Clover could also see that Harriet's youth softened the edge of her Huntsman's life. She was still a beautiful woman, and she shouldn't let combat take away that beauty before she had a chance to enjoy it.

In any case, Clover smiled and said.

"You're right. I should have had the tailor shorten the skirt to knee length .."

Harriet blushed and shrugged Clover's hands off her shoulders as she said.

"Steady on, Sir! This thing is mortifying enough as it is! I still have no idea why I had to be here."

Clover's reply was to look over Harriet's shoulder. Directing the younger Huntress's attention behind her as Marrow Amin cut in through the crowd and said.

"Harriet! I mean, Ms. Bree! I mean, Ma'am!" Marrow said as the tail of a hound, wagging visibly behind a casual reflection of Clover's tuxedo, intensified in its wagging in time with the younger Faunus's growing excitement, "I thought you'd never come! The rest of the team is waiting for you! We've got drinks and everything!"

Clover stepped smartly back as Marrow bundled Harriet off to enjoy a well-deserved night off with her colleagues. Smiling at the helpless grin that had split Harriet's face as she was dragged off beneath the undercurrent of Marrow's intense enthusiasm. But before Clover could follow his Scroll, a comms gear issued to all Atlesian Huntsmen, began to beep in his jacket's pocket.

"Clover here," he said with the Scroll pressed up against his ear as he pushed through the crowd, looking for a quieter place, "Penny's calling for backup? The Black Wings of Mistral?! I'm on my way."

With a swift slash of his arm, Clover tore his tuxedo free from his shoulders. Revealing his Ace-Ops combat uniform beneath the formal wear. Dropping the remains of the tuxedo on a passing, empty tray, Clover Ebi mounted the staircase and slipped quietly out the ballroom.

"Activate the Ace-Ops?" Clover said, "no need. It's their night-off. Besides, I think I can handle Remnant's third deadliest assassin on my own."