Lonely shadows following me
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
He was vaguely aware of being dragged through the snow. Vaguely sensed many hands lifting him up, and carrying him away. To where? It didn't matter.
Silence was traded for the murmur of many voices. Icy air was traded for the balmy warmth of some indoor place, and a scent of stale beer, smoke and food told him it was the Kraai. Korbin wasn't so awake that he could move, or stand, or even let anyone know he was aware... and he wasn't sure if he would, even if he could. This place... Gods, how he hated this place. Weaver loved it, but he never did. Always knew it would be the end of her, and just look, if he wasn't right.
Many feet clambered down a stair, and the air grew cooler. Damp, the way only cellars were. Cold boards met his back, and his head thumped onto the floor when someone's grip slipped. Murmuring voices were talking back and forth; he didn't care what they said. Couldn't muster enough feeling to be either angry or grateful.
They were leaving now. More feet in the stair, followed by a door slamming. Silence settled in over him, leaving nothing but the ring in his ears of his own internal screaming. It was oppressive, stifling. He sucked in a deep breath, and flinched as cut glass jabbed into his side.
Korbin groaned softly, and pried open the eyes. Stared up at the dark timbre of the ceiling, without really seeing it.
Silence was traded for the murmur of many voices. Icy air was traded for the balmy warmth of some indoor place, and a scent of stale beer, smoke and food told him it was the Kraai. Korbin wasn't so awake that he could move, or stand, or even let anyone know he was aware... and he wasn't sure if he would, even if he could. This place... Gods, how he hated this place. Weaver loved it, but he never did. Always knew it would be the end of her, and just look, if he wasn't right.
Many feet clambered down a stair, and the air grew cooler. Damp, the way only cellars were. Cold boards met his back, and his head thumped onto the floor when someone's grip slipped. Murmuring voices were talking back and forth; he didn't care what they said. Couldn't muster enough feeling to be either angry or grateful.
They were leaving now. More feet in the stair, followed by a door slamming. Silence settled in over him, leaving nothing but the ring in his ears of his own internal screaming. It was oppressive, stifling. He sucked in a deep breath, and flinched as cut glass jabbed into his side.
Korbin groaned softly, and pried open the eyes. Stared up at the dark timbre of the ceiling, without really seeing it.
Thousand voices dead at my feet
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
