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?
He could almost admire it. The way she was able to talk about her own past, like it had no power over her. Clearly it had, and the effects of whatever fucked up shit she had been through were still there, and yet, Korbin could appreciate the reasoning. By owning it, by admitting to it, by not trying to pretend that it was anything but what it was, it couldn't become a weapon in someone else's hands.
In that same line of thought, it became almost... refreshing. To hear her admit that he had the beginnings of that monster in himself. Maybe it was like the hunt of the raven. If he accepted that it was cruel and callous to chase down an animal and peck it to a bloody pulp in order to eat, and a part of what it meant to be raven, he could fly without concern, and sweep down on prey when it was necessary. It had taken Korbin years to accept it, but... now he hunted as the bird, because the bird needed to survive. There did not seem to be a reason for the bitter violence in his blood, but... if he could find it? If he could channel it, put it to use... Then he would be a monster but one who did not cause pain indiscriminately.
There were gradients of black, even in the void.
Unfortunately, her talk of Noah and what they shared only left Korbin more miserable. Reminded him of all he had lost in Weaver. The camraderie, the trust, the wordless understanding. Familial love and affection, the pride and protectiveness of siblings, the humor and the bickering... even the times when he couldn't stand the sight of her and the fights that had left him wishing to be anywhere esle but in her presence; it was all gone now. Mere memories, shadows, echoing in the hollow cavity of his chest.
Gone, she was gone, gone, and he was alone. Bitterly, coldly, even more so here in the presence of this stranger.
Korbin took the cup from her hand and drank the bitter brew in one, not caring that the contents scalded his tongue and burned the throat on the way down. It was not a taste to linger over, and he desperately wanted to escape the clawing ache that was building up again.
"If you hurt him, I'll make you wish you never set foot in Halo," he croaked, a raven's menacing caw, full of snarling teeth that had no real context with what she was saying. Except... she was broken too. And their kind of shards were sharp, cutting deeper than any blade. Soul hurt, the crushing, bleeding kind... Noah deserved better than that.
In that same line of thought, it became almost... refreshing. To hear her admit that he had the beginnings of that monster in himself. Maybe it was like the hunt of the raven. If he accepted that it was cruel and callous to chase down an animal and peck it to a bloody pulp in order to eat, and a part of what it meant to be raven, he could fly without concern, and sweep down on prey when it was necessary. It had taken Korbin years to accept it, but... now he hunted as the bird, because the bird needed to survive. There did not seem to be a reason for the bitter violence in his blood, but... if he could find it? If he could channel it, put it to use... Then he would be a monster but one who did not cause pain indiscriminately.
There were gradients of black, even in the void.
Unfortunately, her talk of Noah and what they shared only left Korbin more miserable. Reminded him of all he had lost in Weaver. The camraderie, the trust, the wordless understanding. Familial love and affection, the pride and protectiveness of siblings, the humor and the bickering... even the times when he couldn't stand the sight of her and the fights that had left him wishing to be anywhere esle but in her presence; it was all gone now. Mere memories, shadows, echoing in the hollow cavity of his chest.
Gone, she was gone, gone, and he was alone. Bitterly, coldly, even more so here in the presence of this stranger.
Korbin took the cup from her hand and drank the bitter brew in one, not caring that the contents scalded his tongue and burned the throat on the way down. It was not a taste to linger over, and he desperately wanted to escape the clawing ache that was building up again.
"If you hurt him, I'll make you wish you never set foot in Halo," he croaked, a raven's menacing caw, full of snarling teeth that had no real context with what she was saying. Except... she was broken too. And their kind of shards were sharp, cutting deeper than any blade. Soul hurt, the crushing, bleeding kind... Noah deserved better than that.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
