"I had friends," he told her, watching as the blood trickled slowly down the palm and dripped from the wrist. "Weaver. Erebor. Ezekiel. Two are dead and the third has fucked off somewhere. If he ever comes back I'll be surprised. The rest? I never needed the rest." Had never sought the kind of love that lasted, or found comfort in shallow acquaintances. He had smiled and joked with those he traded with or worked for, but it wasn't enough to lend purpose to a continued existence.
He agreed that only actions mattered. And so far Korbin had seen nothing that proved him wrong. Loren was nowhere in sight. Chulane had run off. Kiada had taken great pleasure in hitting him, and this woman? He didn't even know why she was here. To prove something to herself, or to Noah? She had offered him a knife. Twice now.
"I know. You're not the only one who knows herbs." But Korbin didn't make a move to bandage the wound. It wasn't deep, wouldn't kill him. Hurt like a bitch, but the feeling blended in with his emotional pain until they became echoes of each other. Back and forth, back and forth. And the red stains on the floor kept growing.
"Again. I can stop, but there's no point. I have no reason to prove anything to you. Or anyone else. I'm alive, I'm doing my job, and everytime someone sees me they can remember how much better it was when Weaver was alive. What more is there?"
His answer was nothing. Just... nothing.
He agreed that only actions mattered. And so far Korbin had seen nothing that proved him wrong. Loren was nowhere in sight. Chulane had run off. Kiada had taken great pleasure in hitting him, and this woman? He didn't even know why she was here. To prove something to herself, or to Noah? She had offered him a knife. Twice now.
"I know. You're not the only one who knows herbs." But Korbin didn't make a move to bandage the wound. It wasn't deep, wouldn't kill him. Hurt like a bitch, but the feeling blended in with his emotional pain until they became echoes of each other. Back and forth, back and forth. And the red stains on the floor kept growing.
"Again. I can stop, but there's no point. I have no reason to prove anything to you. Or anyone else. I'm alive, I'm doing my job, and everytime someone sees me they can remember how much better it was when Weaver was alive. What more is there?"
His answer was nothing. Just... nothing.
In loving memory of when I gave a shit
KORBIN
HALE
HALE
