deep into that darkness peering

The woman approaching was stately and serene. Upon her the raven turned all of its attention, fixing her visage into memory even as a pale hand extended. Blinking, the bird considered for solemn minute, before hobbling graciously onto that generous perch. Hobbled, indeed, because a leather strap was tied about a leg from which a golden gem dangled, and that string had come undone. Threading, tangling, into claws and ink-black talons, until only a firm grip prevented the treasure from being lost. Onto gentle hand, through hallways and into rooms, the bird followed quietly and observed, until such a time as it could stride down onto elegant furnishings. There, unburdened, the lady perched and the raven spread its wings, to shake the moisture from shadowed feathers - oil slick, gleaming, yet tousled enough to appear more shaggy than elegant. A heavy beak clicked open as she spoke. Musings and ponderings, met with thoughtful silence. Then the bird stepped once, twice, and slipped off the table's edge. Shimmering, shifting, it grew into a man - or a semblance of one. Tall and thin, only a boy with a starved look in hollowed out eyes. Blue as pearls. Dark as grief. "They fear themselves," he said, so quiet the hoarse voice was barely more than a whisper. "Darkness... makes you look inward." He avoided her gaze, and inched closer to the fire. Ragged clothes hung limp on his frame - tattered and dirty, as if he had worn them unchanging for many years. K O R B I N It's a lie for a lie and I'm getting tired An old lullabye, drifting through the sky