Nothing there for you to see

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

Korbin couldn't remember when last he'd felt so much like a child. Broken and lost and unable to cope. Sometime before his mom had disappeared, maybe. Or before he'd seen his dad die in his bed, an ugly, slow death as far from the honorable hunter's death as he'd wanted. Maybe the last time he'd cried was when he sat vigil over Weaver as she lay injured and dying, praying and fearing that every breath would be her last. He couldn't recall, couldn't say...

He didn't cry now. Perhaps it would have been better if he did. But when his attempt to pull away resulted in him being held tighter, he sighed and gave in to it. The embrace, the healing he didn't feel except as a soothing warmth washing over his senses, the simple closeness to another living being he so resented. He didn't cry, but... something within him softened. Lost the worst of its edge, like a wild cat slowly letting down the raised hackles, pulling claws back in.

Still a bit awkward, one of his arms came up, to wrap around Loren's back. Offering some small acknowledgement to his presence. "I'm fine," he tried to say, hoarse and too quiet, though it really wasn't true. Just... it felt like something he should say. For lack of anything better.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.