KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
The joke was awful, but it earned Loren a huffed laugh and a crooked smile, dark blue eyes studying the man to see whether he was serious. It almost sounded like he wanted to be friends. Which was... cute. Weaver would rejoice. As for Korbin himself? He really didn't trust it.
Humming something indistinct at the compliment to the food, he had nothing to add. Not until the subject turned to his family. "He died, yes." The words came out evenly, like he was talking about the weather. But beneath his calm face and smooth tone, there was a roaring pit of grief, and it became clear that it had nothing to do with the killing of a cannibal. "I don't remember much about mom. She disappeared when I was... oh.. eight, or so. Just walked out one day and never came back. Then a few years later, dad died. And a couple of years ago, Erebor died, and Weaver was dragged back, more dead than alive. She almost didn't make it." It was a grim tally of losses, one tragedy after another, stacking heavier upon one another until the weight was almost unbearable.
"The people in town helped us. Kept us fed, clothed, so on. Weaver did all the hunting, I do the rest. We get by. But... ever since that damned portal opened, everything has started to change. She's running off, away where I can't see her... and people keep streaming in here, changing everything they see."
Korbin looked up, his gaze dark and stormy, a wolfish protectiveness emanating from him as he fixed his eyes on the Healer. There was an undercurrent of desperation, and in a move that was almost aggressive he let down his barriers completely, and all but shoved it all at the other. Fear of change and loss, frustration at the things he didn't get a say in, all circling a deep, abiding love for the one sole member of his family he still had left.
"I don't need anyone who puts her in danger, Loren. Not anyone, got it?"
Humming something indistinct at the compliment to the food, he had nothing to add. Not until the subject turned to his family. "He died, yes." The words came out evenly, like he was talking about the weather. But beneath his calm face and smooth tone, there was a roaring pit of grief, and it became clear that it had nothing to do with the killing of a cannibal. "I don't remember much about mom. She disappeared when I was... oh.. eight, or so. Just walked out one day and never came back. Then a few years later, dad died. And a couple of years ago, Erebor died, and Weaver was dragged back, more dead than alive. She almost didn't make it." It was a grim tally of losses, one tragedy after another, stacking heavier upon one another until the weight was almost unbearable.
"The people in town helped us. Kept us fed, clothed, so on. Weaver did all the hunting, I do the rest. We get by. But... ever since that damned portal opened, everything has started to change. She's running off, away where I can't see her... and people keep streaming in here, changing everything they see."
Korbin looked up, his gaze dark and stormy, a wolfish protectiveness emanating from him as he fixed his eyes on the Healer. There was an undercurrent of desperation, and in a move that was almost aggressive he let down his barriers completely, and all but shoved it all at the other. Fear of change and loss, frustration at the things he didn't get a say in, all circling a deep, abiding love for the one sole member of his family he still had left.
"I don't need anyone who puts her in danger, Loren. Not anyone, got it?"
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
