the world dies over and over again
He’d lived in all manner of places. Once, briefly, in a castle (though he was too young to remember it). His mother was overthrown quickly after his birth, an overthrown which she reveled in. Yes, his mother sought such things, leaving not in disgrace but in triumph. He was not particularly like his mother. Korbin didn’t seek power through fear, cared little to nothing for a crown, couldn’t give a shit that he was never really a prince (all the better, honestly). No, while Korbin may lack a moral compass (if you grew up in his family, you would too, don’t judge), he doesn’t seek power and fear and bloodshed. He simply lives. They fled to the mountains and lived outside, in caves, and makeshift homes.
His siblings scattered and he followed suit, learning to live on the road. Sometimes he slept in inn’s, sometimes in abandoned warehouses or ruins, sometimes under the stars. He doesn’t mind living without comforts, but even he knows he needs to find some sort of shelter here. The weather, when he’d crash landed in this place, had quickly proved to be brutal. He’s thankful for the cape around his shoulders, thick wool and pitch black, a gift from his sister before she left. Her cape had been rimmed in raven feather’s, Weaver embracing the emblem of their family (and the source of their mother’s magic) more than any of her siblings. Still, he felt an affinity toward the birds and toward the color that marked them all.
He’s been here long enough to gain half a clue, catching the notices that had been posted about impending doom called the LongNight. Awesome. He’s got really great timing, apparently, because he’s not remotely prepared for such a thing. So today he sets out to see if he can find some food, or shelter, or just a damn clue. Any of those things would be helpful. Eventually he spots something…odd. Okay, really, nothing is that odd after falling through a puddle into another world, but whatever, it’s odd enough to be classified as such.
Today’s version of odd is simply a girl, laying in snow, being inspected by a reindeer with glowing horns. He stops some distance away, trying to remain quiet and not spook the deer. Deer thing? What the heck was it, exactly? He had no idea, honestly, but he’s not stupid enough to go stopping up to the thing. Korbin, all bulk and no grace, at least knows he’s entirely incapable of being quiet, particularly with snow crunching beneath his feet. Not wanting to spook it, he doesn’t say anything, though if the girl looks his way he does try to offer a smile and a little wave.
korbin
but the skeleton always gets up and walks
