KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
It was snowing when he stepped through the portal and back home into Halo. Not the harsh, wind-driven needles of snow that sometimes seemed more ice than anything else, but a slow, heavy flurry of thumb-sized flakes that drifted quietly down from an overcast sky. The season, this close to deepfrost, the temperature was rather warm. At least by Halo standards.
The contrast from the balmy heat of Torchline was brutal, but Korbin welcomed the change. Inhaling a deep breath from the chill air, he stepped out from the shelter of the cave that housed the portal and let the snow come to settle on his shoulders. The soft brush of it against his face felt like fingertips, gentle and sweet, and he tilted his face up with a half smile, to savor the sensation.
With every breath, he felt purged of the salt, the warmth, the many colors of the southern coast. Slowly, one by one, the young raven let them bleed out of him to be replaced by the starkness of the landscape around him. White and black. Subdued shades of blue, gray, green and browns, wherever an evergreen tree managed to cling to the rocky mountainside in mute defiance of the brutal cold.
Only when he felt more like himself again did he move, and started to make his way down towards the road that would take him home. Flying would be faster, but Korbin felt like walking for a bit. To savor the beauty of his favorite place in this world.
The contrast from the balmy heat of Torchline was brutal, but Korbin welcomed the change. Inhaling a deep breath from the chill air, he stepped out from the shelter of the cave that housed the portal and let the snow come to settle on his shoulders. The soft brush of it against his face felt like fingertips, gentle and sweet, and he tilted his face up with a half smile, to savor the sensation.
With every breath, he felt purged of the salt, the warmth, the many colors of the southern coast. Slowly, one by one, the young raven let them bleed out of him to be replaced by the starkness of the landscape around him. White and black. Subdued shades of blue, gray, green and browns, wherever an evergreen tree managed to cling to the rocky mountainside in mute defiance of the brutal cold.
Only when he felt more like himself again did he move, and started to make his way down towards the road that would take him home. Flying would be faster, but Korbin felt like walking for a bit. To savor the beauty of his favorite place in this world.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
