the world dies over and over again
Splish. Splish splish. Splish splish splish. It was raining. Raining a little, a drizzle of sorts, the pleasant kind of rain that you enjoy being out in and then pouring, suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere. The sky grew darker, darker, simply dark; cloaked is gray and weary clouds that quickly won out against any semblance of sunlight or even light. It was just dark, and so Korbin, outside because he never bothered to check with those who knew anything about weather, proceeded to splash his way through the puddles. Puddles being a very inaccurate term for them as it poured, the little things quickly turning to flood and small rivers, streaming down the edges of the dirt road and washing away the ground beneath his feet. At this point, even if he wanted to stop being a child playing in the puddles he couldn’t because they were everywhere, the earth a sodden and soggy mess beneath his feet. So much for his boots.
The next puddle is deep though. Deep and dark and far too deep. One foot lands expecting solid ground but there is none, and instead he’s falling and tumbling and passing out.
When he wakes, he assumes it was just a dream. It’s the logical assumption, after all, that something as strange as falling through a puddle would simply be a dream. Then again, Korbin has seen stranger in his life, though always it happens to others and not to him. He simply sees it, and to him, these people weird things happen to are akin to stories, something told at bedtime to keep you from misbehaving. Weird things never happened to him.
Well, guess he can’t say that now.
He’s not in the land he knows, not in his familiar mountains or the places he’d been traversing through trying to find some new place to call home. He’s….well, he has absolutely no idea where he is now. It’s cold and snowy and he’s covered in the stuff, having quite literally fallen into this place. Thankfully he’d been wearing the thick, black cloak his sister had given him (a thing he only left behind when the weather was truly hot). It’s wet too, but the wool is thick enough that he’s able to shake the worst of the snow off before it becomes a sodden mess. His boots and his hair are another matter entirely though, and he can’t even be bothered to try and help himself there. His best bet, at this point, is to figure out where he is and find some shelter.
So, he walks – trudges, really – through the snow and the slush. The only benefit of the current weather is it’s clear what paths are most frequently traveled, and eventually he finds a path that seems well used and begins to follow it. Around him old buildings begin to crop up, rising toward the sky with crumbling fingers. Wherever he was, this place had seen better days. What had happened here? There appears to be some sort of life though as he goes, many of the ruins sporting a patchwork of repairs. A few places even appear to be homes, of a sort. If nothing else, it’s clear there’s shelter to be found here. Now, either he needed a friendly face or a vacant building.
korbin
but the skeleton always gets up and walks
someone come say hi to him please!
