After a brief explanation from Qrow, you decided to join the group on their adventure, believing that their chances would be better if they had you on their side. Your gut was screaming at you to head back home, lock the door and not bother with any of this, but since Tyrian had gotten involved, this was now a personal matter to you. You wanted nothing more than revenge on the men that had wronged you, and Tyrian had welcomed a challenge, so you were determined to hold him to it.
You had hoped this journey would go off without a hitch, no questions asked, no issues raised, alas, there was always one who would ask the same question. This time was no exception. "So... Mrs. Ironw-" The voice paused when you turned to look back at Jaune, eyes narrowed, "What... Happened between you and General Ironwood?" He asked, and you sigh, your first clenching until Qrow put his hand on your shoulder to calm you down. You knew they'd keep asking if you didn't reply, so you decided to put an end to this now.
"I married Ironwood a few years after I left Beacon. We had been friends before heading off to our academies, and we continued to be friends while there." You mutter, continuing forwards, "I join the army alongside him, things go well for... A long time, and then something happened. From then on wee argued, we slept in different rooms, we ate dinner alone.." You trail off as you remember it, frowning, "And then I left." You finish, Qrow sighing and muttering that it wasn't your fault, the kids looking confused about exactly what happened but deciding not to press forwards with it.
Only few knew the full story, those four being you, Qrow, Ironwood and, as much as you hate to say it, Tyrian Callows. It angered you to think about everything the man had done to you, and now he had returned to ruin your life-- The reason why you had went into hiding had became the same reason you came out, and you had came to realise that your anger was much stronger than your rage, and no one was going to stop you from wreaking havoc, not even Salem.
Even the thought of him made a long-healed wound hurt, the same pain from the day ripping through you, making your blood feel like liquid fire as you continued to walk ahead of the others. You didn't know where you were going, you didn't care, so long as the pain and the memory went away, you would be happy. You didn't expect anyone to understand your pain, how could they? Your situation was unique, and you doubted it'd be an easy one to recreate. You could only pray that anyone in a situation like yours had been would get themselves out of it, as you realised falling out of love was the worst pain imaginable.
Even if it was for the best.
