Lonely shadows following me
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
"Yes." Possibly he wasn't thinking of the consequences his confessions might have. Or maybe that was exactly what he was doing. It was a desperate move, but then, he was desperate. If he couldn't control himself, someone else would have to do it. Before it went too far. (But maybe that was already too late.)
"Chulane. I was drunk, and cut my head open on falling planks. He tried to restrain me to tend the wound, and I threw an elbow at his head. It hit, and it knocked him out." It had been reflex, and he'd expected the man to be able to dodge, so used to sparring rough with Weaver that the idea of not moving the head away was inconcievable. But he didn't say that, didn't make excuses for himself. Nor did he sweeten the story by explaining that he had gotten the man to a healer after. It was irrelevant.
"Some blonde outlander girl I don't know the name of. I was drunk again, and she tried to bring me home with her. She'd been pestering me before, and didn't leave when I indicated I wanted to be left alone. So I grabbed her wrist, hard enough that she flinched." She had slapped him good in return, and he had shifted and flown away after... but that was not explained either.
Korbin's voice was dispassionate, neither blowing the events out of proportion nor softening the image it painted. The point was, he had struck first and left later, and it was growing into a pattern. And he seemed very calm, almost curious as he waited for Morgan's judgement.
"Chulane. I was drunk, and cut my head open on falling planks. He tried to restrain me to tend the wound, and I threw an elbow at his head. It hit, and it knocked him out." It had been reflex, and he'd expected the man to be able to dodge, so used to sparring rough with Weaver that the idea of not moving the head away was inconcievable. But he didn't say that, didn't make excuses for himself. Nor did he sweeten the story by explaining that he had gotten the man to a healer after. It was irrelevant.
"Some blonde outlander girl I don't know the name of. I was drunk again, and she tried to bring me home with her. She'd been pestering me before, and didn't leave when I indicated I wanted to be left alone. So I grabbed her wrist, hard enough that she flinched." She had slapped him good in return, and he had shifted and flown away after... but that was not explained either.
Korbin's voice was dispassionate, neither blowing the events out of proportion nor softening the image it painted. The point was, he had struck first and left later, and it was growing into a pattern. And he seemed very calm, almost curious as he waited for Morgan's judgement.
Thousand voices dead at my feet
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
