CHULANE
Chulane frankly, didn't have any shits left to give about Korbin's opinion on his actions. He didn't care that the boy wanted to resist, to escape, to just be contrary to everything offered to him. He was ready for the door slam, had come to expect it (had come to expect the poor behaviour rather than the gratitude), and stepped his booted foot in the way of it. It still thumped against his foot, still hurt, but his boot protected him for the most part.
Stepping inside, he also wasn't surprised when the boy went straight to the bed, ignoring the bowl of broth and knob of bread that steaming on the small desk for him. Chulane simply sat in the chair, and watched over the boy, like the vet he was watching over an animal recovering from anaesthetic.
Korbin was like an animal caught in barbed wire, unable to see the way out, unable to see that the hands reaching for him are trying to help, and so struggling, fighting, and only encouraging the wire to tighten, to dig deeper, to strangle him slowly but surely. Chulane was wanted nothing more than to be like a saviour with a strong set of wire-cutters, freeing the boy from the immediate danger and ready to treat the wounds he had collected along the way.
But again, grief was not that simple.
"Tell me about Weaver." He said to the boy's back, hoping to ignite a reaction from him, to incite something - what exactly, he didn't know.
Stepping inside, he also wasn't surprised when the boy went straight to the bed, ignoring the bowl of broth and knob of bread that steaming on the small desk for him. Chulane simply sat in the chair, and watched over the boy, like the vet he was watching over an animal recovering from anaesthetic.
Korbin was like an animal caught in barbed wire, unable to see the way out, unable to see that the hands reaching for him are trying to help, and so struggling, fighting, and only encouraging the wire to tighten, to dig deeper, to strangle him slowly but surely. Chulane was wanted nothing more than to be like a saviour with a strong set of wire-cutters, freeing the boy from the immediate danger and ready to treat the wounds he had collected along the way.
But again, grief was not that simple.
"Tell me about Weaver." He said to the boy's back, hoping to ignite a reaction from him, to incite something - what exactly, he didn't know.
it is better to know some of the questions
than all of the answers
than all of the answers
