Introduction: I'll keep this brief. This is the first of what I hope to be many entries for the RWBY community's Writing Prompt Wednesday.
This week's prompt: Ozpin and Salem were on a team, once upon a time. At the end of Volume 2, they reminisce about how different things are compared to back then.

The mesa was quiet when Ozpin arrived. A bullhead had dropped him off hours ago. The tree stumps still sat where they had placed them all those years ago. He had laid a pillow down on two of the seats. To be sure, the added comfort wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

He busied himself by setting up a small campfire, then setting water to boil. The makeshift table held a teapot, two matching cups, and a small box. Upon its rough face was carved a chessboard. Once he was satisfied that all was ready, he sat and waited patiently.

The sun had set, the last rays of gold leaving dappled streaks on the scattered clouds. The moon would rise soon, the face full as though nothing were wrong. Perhaps she would come this time. She seldom appeared of late, but Ozpin felt that he owed it to her to at least be there.

The flat expanse was broken only by the occasional tree, and wind whispered through the branches and grasses. There were no other sounds aside from the merry crackle of the flames. To keep his thoughts from turning maudlin, he gently opened the box. The cherry wood was still vibrant, even after decades - or was it centuries, now? The interior held a red velvet cushion, which in turn held hand carved chess pieces. The onyx and white marble shone from years of handling and polish. But the wood-burnt inscription held his eye for a time. He sighed as he brushed fingers over the pieces. The moon had risen.

One moment the seat across from him was empty, and then it was not. She arrived on the whispering wind, seemingly unperturbed, as if she hadn't just rushed in. She did, however, take a moment to settle her dress about her legs and smooth its folds. When she was satisfied that all was in order, she folded her hands on the table and stared with glowing red eyes.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come, again, Salem. Tea?" She bowed her head briefly, crystals swaying and tinkling as they hung from her head spurs.

"Yes, please. I am sorry about the last time. There were... distractions." He rose and retrieved the water kettle from the fire. She removed the lid of the teapot while he filled it, replacing it carefully when he finished pouring. Her gaze had settled on the box while they waited. A ghost of a smile brushed her lips as she traced a finger over the white king. "I'm always surprised to find that you've kept this, even after everything," she trailed off. "Simpler times and nostalgia?" Ozpin smiled at her sadly. It seemed that the infestation had completely overtaken her.

"I pine for the days when all we had to worry about were grades and tests. You with your love of the game-" he started.

"And you with your books." Her face lost its expression, head tilting to one side. "Sometimes I wish that we had never found those awful things." She scowled and stood, facing away from the flames and pacing a few steps. Much as her humanity had ceased to be, Ozpin could not help but still find her beautiful, even if in a mildly horrifying way. He joined her, daring to lay a soft hand on her shoulder. She was so very cold, a fact that was made more evident when she placed a clawed hand upon his.

"We chose these paths, Salem. I wish we had not, but we must see this through, you and I. The alternative is..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. Not to her. It wasn't fair, and they both knew it. "Come, let us have a game, and talk of better days."

She turned to him, pulling his hand down but still clasping it between them. She smiled, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "You know this will be the last time, before..." He dipped his head down, equal parts grief and shame. So terribly unfair. One night every decade was never enough. He pulled her into an embrace, which she returned reluctantly.

"I know. I'm sorry, Dear Salem. I'm so very, very sorry."

A/N - I had intended for there to be more dialogue, but it seemed better to stop there. Thanks for reading!