KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
He was cursed. That really explained everything. The deafness, the feathers, his inability to complete a simple task like stuffing a few pillows. Why did the outsiders need pillows anyway? Let them bring their own, let them sleep without any. Better yet, make them stay at home and take care of their own fucking problems.
It was perhaps a good thing that he couldn't hear, or he might have muttered all this aloud as he trundled around like a fool, chasing ningo feathers over the floor. When he finally had enough, Korbin grabbed one of the pillow cases and began to waft it at the scattered mess, hoping to drive it all up into a corner where it would be quicker and easier to gather them.
Should this work, he would leave the feathers there and begin to stuff the pillows straight away, skipping the process of moving the down around unnecessarily.
It was perhaps a good thing that he couldn't hear, or he might have muttered all this aloud as he trundled around like a fool, chasing ningo feathers over the floor. When he finally had enough, Korbin grabbed one of the pillow cases and began to waft it at the scattered mess, hoping to drive it all up into a corner where it would be quicker and easier to gather them.
Should this work, he would leave the feathers there and begin to stuff the pillows straight away, skipping the process of moving the down around unnecessarily.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
