KORBIN
It's so nice to meet you
"That's not an answer. What have you learned or discovered about magic, yours or in general?" Korbin did not have patience for vague replies. His scowl deepened when he was offered food; he shook his head. "I dont need anyone to cook for me. Or clean my room, or make my bed. I'm not an invalid, or a child, and I would prefer if you stopped trying to take care of me when I don't need it." He was perfectly capable of doing all those things himself. In fact, it had been his job since the parents died to take care of the house while his siblings worked and hunted; it really didn't sit right with him to have that taken away.
He shrugged off the thanks, uncaring if she got anything out of it, and snatched up the plate with the pie. It was warm still, though cool enough to pick up. Korbin ignored the utensils and bit into the crust, pleased to find that it really wasn't sweet at all. In fact, his tongue prickled and burned from hot spices, and he was surprised to find that he had downed half in a few ravenous bites.
Unfortunately, he also found that he couldn't get more down. It had been so very long since he ate more than a few bites of anything that his stomach had shrunk. Setting the plate aside, he found a chair and slumped into it, drowsy and light headed and uncomfortably full. It was an almost bittersweet thing, to realize that he wasn't currently miserable. Strange, how a moments reprieve from grief and misery could leave him with so much guilt.
Wasn't be supposed to hate being alive?
He shrugged off the thanks, uncaring if she got anything out of it, and snatched up the plate with the pie. It was warm still, though cool enough to pick up. Korbin ignored the utensils and bit into the crust, pleased to find that it really wasn't sweet at all. In fact, his tongue prickled and burned from hot spices, and he was surprised to find that he had downed half in a few ravenous bites.
Unfortunately, he also found that he couldn't get more down. It had been so very long since he ate more than a few bites of anything that his stomach had shrunk. Setting the plate aside, he found a chair and slumped into it, drowsy and light headed and uncomfortably full. It was an almost bittersweet thing, to realize that he wasn't currently miserable. Strange, how a moments reprieve from grief and misery could leave him with so much guilt.
Wasn't be supposed to hate being alive?
Let's never meet again
