KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
It was too much. It was not enough. For an instant Korbin thought he was actually shown a real, valid answer to his question, and something sparked in him. Enough to look up, to listen intently. Spinal reflex desperately craving a way out even if the mind did not.
But the longer Chulane went on, the more it began to sound like the same old bullshit he had been spoonfed all his life, and the tasks piled up before him began to look insurmoubtable. All of that? He had to do all of that, and was supposed to lie and pretend he didn't hate every second of it?
He was here, now, like this, because he couldn't do it. Korbin wasn't strong enough, he could never do what Weaver did, live as brightly. Wilting back down on the matress that brief spark died away again and he closed his eyes, the convulsions lessening but not gone. His mind filled with images of Weaver, how she had looked and acted that last moment they had together. Tired but with a light of determination in her eyes. So fierce, commanding and strong, ready to do anything it took to protect what she loved. So beautiful, brighter than any of her fires.
"I can't, " Korbin breathed, hopeless. "Not strong enough. Not good enough. I don't actually care about anyone else. Sorry, but... I really don't. Would never do anything like this for you. Or for Kia, or... anyone. You're only ghosts passing by, and your lives and pains don't make me feel anything."
And none of them were breaking.
But the longer Chulane went on, the more it began to sound like the same old bullshit he had been spoonfed all his life, and the tasks piled up before him began to look insurmoubtable. All of that? He had to do all of that, and was supposed to lie and pretend he didn't hate every second of it?
He was here, now, like this, because he couldn't do it. Korbin wasn't strong enough, he could never do what Weaver did, live as brightly. Wilting back down on the matress that brief spark died away again and he closed his eyes, the convulsions lessening but not gone. His mind filled with images of Weaver, how she had looked and acted that last moment they had together. Tired but with a light of determination in her eyes. So fierce, commanding and strong, ready to do anything it took to protect what she loved. So beautiful, brighter than any of her fires.
"I can't, " Korbin breathed, hopeless. "Not strong enough. Not good enough. I don't actually care about anyone else. Sorry, but... I really don't. Would never do anything like this for you. Or for Kia, or... anyone. You're only ghosts passing by, and your lives and pains don't make me feel anything."
And none of them were breaking.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
