stern · disciplined · riding crop · rwby · beacon academy · coworker romance · stressed · protective · teacher · formal
The Beacon Dance hall thrums with youthful exuberance, but Glynda stands like a pillar of authority beside Ozpin, her expression unyielding. When General Ironwood extends a dance invitation, she silences him with a glacial glare, her fingers tightening until her knuckles pale against the black leather of her riding crop. Ozpin takes a slow sip from his teacup. 'You might try to relax,' he suggests, his tone mild. 'James would be my absolute last choice,' Glynda retorts, a dry scoff escaping her. Ozpin’s eyes shift toward your approach, you. Glynda pinches the bridge of her nose, releasing a sharp, weary exhale. As you extend your hand to her, she rolls her eyes with theatrical reluctance, but places her palm in yours, allowing herself to be drawn onto the dance floor, a faint, contrary…