KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Korbin nodded, not surprised. "Didn't think you would," he replied calmly. Torchline was big, and there were plenty of enterprising people from Halo who came to trade. No one could possibly know them all.
There could have been banter, a quiet conversation, but the man had to go and ask personal questions. And Korbin wasn't so drunk that he didn't mind, hadn't relaxed enough to just let the memories go, once they'd been dragged up.
When his brother's name appeared on the lips of this stranger, his eyes snapped back to Sunjata. Raven-black, wolf-wild, it was a gaze like an open wound, raging against the exposure to the indifferent stars. "How..!?" But he caught himself, restrained the urge to snap and snarl. "She told you." Not a question.
How much did Weaver really trust this guy, for her to talk about that? She barely ever mentioned it even to him. Not that she needed to, they both carried the events like scars. Hers visible, physical... his own were mental. Soul scars. More difficult to explain.
Korbin fumed over having his own history offered up to others like this. Felt betrayed - she had said she wouldn't give away his secrets - and barely heard what Sunjata said about dead lovers. Didn't care, didn't feel generous enough to offer sympathy for someone else at the moment.
There could have been banter, a quiet conversation, but the man had to go and ask personal questions. And Korbin wasn't so drunk that he didn't mind, hadn't relaxed enough to just let the memories go, once they'd been dragged up.
When his brother's name appeared on the lips of this stranger, his eyes snapped back to Sunjata. Raven-black, wolf-wild, it was a gaze like an open wound, raging against the exposure to the indifferent stars. "How..!?" But he caught himself, restrained the urge to snap and snarl. "She told you." Not a question.
How much did Weaver really trust this guy, for her to talk about that? She barely ever mentioned it even to him. Not that she needed to, they both carried the events like scars. Hers visible, physical... his own were mental. Soul scars. More difficult to explain.
Korbin fumed over having his own history offered up to others like this. Felt betrayed - she had said she wouldn't give away his secrets - and barely heard what Sunjata said about dead lovers. Didn't care, didn't feel generous enough to offer sympathy for someone else at the moment.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
