you had a heart, it's been gone since they left you
Before a nightmare unleashed itself upon his homeland, a young raven had gone to collect the lute he'd sent in for repairs. Walking quickly to escape the cold, as if he might be able to outrun it, he clutched the instrument, and a letter that had turned up. A letter for him, of all people. Had that ever happened before? He was young enough to feel a childish delight at the simple fact of its existence - that someone had thought enough of him to write one - but the contents left him dizzy with hope and awe, terror and anticipation.
He stopped before the shrine, heart racing in his chest. Last time, he had played to the stars and been cursed for his efforts. When he returned with the hope that it might have been a mistake, he'd been cursed again. And now, still deaf, still wrecked with annoying, humiliating hiccups, he was genuinely afraid.
What if the third strike meant a third curse, and the loss of something worse? Memories, love, his sole remaining family and friend?
Yet all he had to give was still the lute in his hands. So even though it broke his heart to do so, he placed the instrument as an offering, and knelt on the frozen ground, shivering as much from fear as from the biting, brutal cold.
"Safrin... Fairest Lady, please. I hope you can hear me... even if I can't hear you. Please... I only ask for a moment of your time." His hoarse, unsteady voice was quiet and desperate, the silence that engulfed him without end. Interrupted only by the small convulsions that wrecked his body. Not a terrible thing, though. Not compared to the void that had swallowed him.
He stopped before the shrine, heart racing in his chest. Last time, he had played to the stars and been cursed for his efforts. When he returned with the hope that it might have been a mistake, he'd been cursed again. And now, still deaf, still wrecked with annoying, humiliating hiccups, he was genuinely afraid.
What if the third strike meant a third curse, and the loss of something worse? Memories, love, his sole remaining family and friend?
Yet all he had to give was still the lute in his hands. So even though it broke his heart to do so, he placed the instrument as an offering, and knelt on the frozen ground, shivering as much from fear as from the biting, brutal cold.
"Safrin... Fairest Lady, please. I hope you can hear me... even if I can't hear you. Please... I only ask for a moment of your time." His hoarse, unsteady voice was quiet and desperate, the silence that engulfed him without end. Interrupted only by the small convulsions that wrecked his body. Not a terrible thing, though. Not compared to the void that had swallowed him.
- ever feel you grew up too fast?
Korbin
