KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Korbin tensed at the embrace, half pulled away. He wasn't one for touch, normally, and typically Weaver was the only one he exempted from that rule. But then he felt the tremors run through the other, and even in the midst of his own shock, he recognized the needs of another. Put them over his own, and remained where he was. Let himself be held... because maybe that's what Loren needed.
With his eyes closed, he could almost pretend it was Erebor. His brother had been bigger, stronger... or maybe that's just how Korbin remembered him, having been smaller himself when the brother died. Didn't matter, he was gone now. But if he'd been here... would he have have been this shook up over killing someone? Would he have thrown up, cried, been a trembling wreck? Honestly... he didn't know.
At some point, when the wind-filled quiet had dragged on for too long, Korbin realized that his mental shield had fallen. He didn't cry, and his emotions were tightly withheld from the body, but... it was all laid bare, in the attuned bond. Soul deep grief that never healed like a pit of darkness. Steely resolve to protect what was left of his family, rejecting anything and everyone that might cause pain or harm. Fear... so much fear, that it was a miracle he managed to drag himself out of bed each morning. And his shame was there too; the softness in him, the gentle kindness that recoiled from killing, from hurting anyone. That would rather tend to and care for animals and people than hurt them. Hunt them. Do what had to be done to survive...
There was a half-hearted attempt to bring the shield up again, to withdraw from Loren. Awkward embarrassment creeping like tension into his shoulders... He really hated letting people in, and like this it felt like being caught with his pants down.
With his eyes closed, he could almost pretend it was Erebor. His brother had been bigger, stronger... or maybe that's just how Korbin remembered him, having been smaller himself when the brother died. Didn't matter, he was gone now. But if he'd been here... would he have have been this shook up over killing someone? Would he have thrown up, cried, been a trembling wreck? Honestly... he didn't know.
At some point, when the wind-filled quiet had dragged on for too long, Korbin realized that his mental shield had fallen. He didn't cry, and his emotions were tightly withheld from the body, but... it was all laid bare, in the attuned bond. Soul deep grief that never healed like a pit of darkness. Steely resolve to protect what was left of his family, rejecting anything and everyone that might cause pain or harm. Fear... so much fear, that it was a miracle he managed to drag himself out of bed each morning. And his shame was there too; the softness in him, the gentle kindness that recoiled from killing, from hurting anyone. That would rather tend to and care for animals and people than hurt them. Hunt them. Do what had to be done to survive...
There was a half-hearted attempt to bring the shield up again, to withdraw from Loren. Awkward embarrassment creeping like tension into his shoulders... He really hated letting people in, and like this it felt like being caught with his pants down.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
