KORBIN
Leave my loneliness unbroken!
- quit the bust above my door!
- quit the bust above my door!
Korbin was, unfortunately, deaf as a stone. A doornail. Wrapped in cotton and shoved into a closet, earplugs in, drunk to death deaf. It was a curse. It might pass. Eventually. But for now, the raven was able to enjoy its meal in blissful peace - and very much quiet - and took to the air again when he couldn't stuff himself any more.
He flew low and kept to the lower outliers of the mountains, torn between the desire to stay out here, and a need to return home. There were things to do, whether he could hear anything or not, and skulking around in feathers wouldn't be an option forever.
It was when he regretfully turned back to make his way across the Tundra that he saw the tracks. Footprints, leading down from the mountains - near the Portal - and off in an erratic way. The general direction seemed to be the open tundra, but... Something about it looked very odd to the raven.
Curiosity piqued, he followed the trail by air, and kept himself at a fair altitude. There was always a risk of it belonging to an exile, snow-crazed and starving. Not something he'd tangle with if it could be avoided. So when a dark figure appeared on the horizon, he approached it with great caution. A mere dark speck in the sky, a black bird against a white landscape...
He let out a solitary, croaking caw, to see how the person would react.
He flew low and kept to the lower outliers of the mountains, torn between the desire to stay out here, and a need to return home. There were things to do, whether he could hear anything or not, and skulking around in feathers wouldn't be an option forever.
It was when he regretfully turned back to make his way across the Tundra that he saw the tracks. Footprints, leading down from the mountains - near the Portal - and off in an erratic way. The general direction seemed to be the open tundra, but... Something about it looked very odd to the raven.
Curiosity piqued, he followed the trail by air, and kept himself at a fair altitude. There was always a risk of it belonging to an exile, snow-crazed and starving. Not something he'd tangle with if it could be avoided. So when a dark figure appeared on the horizon, he approached it with great caution. A mere dark speck in the sky, a black bird against a white landscape...
He let out a solitary, croaking caw, to see how the person would react.
Quoth the Raven,
"Nevermore."
"Nevermore."
