KORBIN
at least I know how I can make you
laugh like no one else
laugh like no one else
He would like nothing more than to share the gift of magic she had. It's how he saw it; a gift. As much as his attunement was a gift. It was where they differed, where he couldn't follow her, much as she could never quite understand what it was like to share your thoughts and emotions in the bond that connected all shifters. They were close as siblings could be, yet that still lay between them. And Loren had said that acquiring magic would be the same as a curse, in his case.
But would it really? Could it be worse than the silence, than having your own body manipulated by spirits for naught but amusement? At least magic was useful, would let others than just himself survive in a place like this.
"Leafchange and fires and apple pie. Old Mavis always had a good tale to tell, when she wasn't forcing useless trinkets on people. Hm. 'A fireside story', perhaps?" She did have him for the creativity, and he loved throwing ideas around. Could and would do it until they found something that fit perfectly. They might be here for a while.
Korbin took her writs between long fingers and turned it gently, angling until he could see the design of the white dove clearly. It was distinct, the work of both their favorite artist, and he felt his throat tighten at the sight.
"You really liked that girl, didn't you," he murmured softly. "It makes me sorry I never got the chance to meet her." So many had been involved with her; Weaver, Loren, Amun... The list of names on the noticeboard had been very long, and he had a feeling it was only a fraction of people she'd met.
"Name's Amun. A potter from Hollowed Ground." It wasn't much, but better than nothing. Likely, it was more than the man had to go on now, if everyone was as reluctant to talk to him as the man made it sound. "Thank you. I'll let him know. Hopefully, it'll answer some questions, at least."
But would it really? Could it be worse than the silence, than having your own body manipulated by spirits for naught but amusement? At least magic was useful, would let others than just himself survive in a place like this.
"Leafchange and fires and apple pie. Old Mavis always had a good tale to tell, when she wasn't forcing useless trinkets on people. Hm. 'A fireside story', perhaps?" She did have him for the creativity, and he loved throwing ideas around. Could and would do it until they found something that fit perfectly. They might be here for a while.
Korbin took her writs between long fingers and turned it gently, angling until he could see the design of the white dove clearly. It was distinct, the work of both their favorite artist, and he felt his throat tighten at the sight.
"You really liked that girl, didn't you," he murmured softly. "It makes me sorry I never got the chance to meet her." So many had been involved with her; Weaver, Loren, Amun... The list of names on the noticeboard had been very long, and he had a feeling it was only a fraction of people she'd met.
"Name's Amun. A potter from Hollowed Ground." It wasn't much, but better than nothing. Likely, it was more than the man had to go on now, if everyone was as reluctant to talk to him as the man made it sound. "Thank you. I'll let him know. Hopefully, it'll answer some questions, at least."
Oh I'm such a mess
But at least I've always been myself
But at least I've always been myself
