KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
"The Warden... by a dragon.."
Barely had the words spilled from the lips of the white-faced guard before Korbin was on his feet. He was still struggling to get the coat on when he barged out from the Kraai and tore down the streets, down towards the gates. Ice had replaced the blood flowing through his veins in the moment that door had been flung open. He had lived through a day like this before, and always known he couldn't do it again. Not again. Never again.
Deserted streets blurred past. Frigid wind whipped his feathers - he couldn't recall shifting, yet he flew all the same - and when the gates came into view, he was only a black streak in the air, heavy boots that landed in the snow. Stumbled, staggered. Kept running. Vaguely, Korbin was aware of guards around him. Some were reaching out hands towards him, to hold him back. Others were too busy holding in their breakfast to even notice him. But none could stop him. He shoved them aside, and rushed out through the wall, out into the white, wide expanse of the Tundra, looking around frantically for the dragon, the ursur, for his sister...
But all he found was crimson splattered onto snow. Red on white.
"Where is she!?" he demanded of the guard that had come up to him, and shook off the soothing hand from his shoulder.
"Gone... The dragon took her," came the answer.
Korbin shook his head. Refusing to believe it. Unable to comprehend what they were saying. In his chest, something painful had started. A quiet breaking, because he knew - he knew - and yet he couldn't accept it.
"No!" he snapped, as if by his refusal he could make the guard's words untrue. He stared at the blood, then up at the uncaring sky. He made a motion to step further onto the plain, to follow that trail of crimson in the snow where blood had flowed from - his blood, his heart, the only thing in this godforsaken world that still mattered - but hands stopped him. Held him back, even as he shouted and fought. Screaming to go after them, to kill the dragon, to bring her back.
Oh please, just bring her back.
Barely had the words spilled from the lips of the white-faced guard before Korbin was on his feet. He was still struggling to get the coat on when he barged out from the Kraai and tore down the streets, down towards the gates. Ice had replaced the blood flowing through his veins in the moment that door had been flung open. He had lived through a day like this before, and always known he couldn't do it again. Not again. Never again.
Deserted streets blurred past. Frigid wind whipped his feathers - he couldn't recall shifting, yet he flew all the same - and when the gates came into view, he was only a black streak in the air, heavy boots that landed in the snow. Stumbled, staggered. Kept running. Vaguely, Korbin was aware of guards around him. Some were reaching out hands towards him, to hold him back. Others were too busy holding in their breakfast to even notice him. But none could stop him. He shoved them aside, and rushed out through the wall, out into the white, wide expanse of the Tundra, looking around frantically for the dragon, the ursur, for his sister...
But all he found was crimson splattered onto snow. Red on white.
"Where is she!?" he demanded of the guard that had come up to him, and shook off the soothing hand from his shoulder.
"Gone... The dragon took her," came the answer.
Korbin shook his head. Refusing to believe it. Unable to comprehend what they were saying. In his chest, something painful had started. A quiet breaking, because he knew - he knew - and yet he couldn't accept it.
"No!" he snapped, as if by his refusal he could make the guard's words untrue. He stared at the blood, then up at the uncaring sky. He made a motion to step further onto the plain, to follow that trail of crimson in the snow where blood had flowed from - his blood, his heart, the only thing in this godforsaken world that still mattered - but hands stopped him. Held him back, even as he shouted and fought. Screaming to go after them, to kill the dragon, to bring her back.
Oh please, just bring her back.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
