the world dies over and over again
He might be high. It’s entirely possible, though he definitely didn’t do it on purpose this time. That doesn’t mean he didn’t eat something he shouldn’t have. Traveling leads to that, particularly since he lacks any skill in determining what’s edible and just hoped really really hard that whatever he stuck in his mouth wouldn’t kill him. Usually that was food, but regardless of what it actually was, the hope was always the same. So far it’s never killed him, but he’s definitely ingested a few things that would have been better left well enough alone. He remembers those and won’t make the mistake again.
His memory of before this place, though still there, is a little hazy right around the moment he slipped from one place to the next like falling through a crack in world. Still, he can’t recall any particularly odd foods, but there’s definitely a man on a sled which is being pulled by a unicorn. It’s not the unicorn that throws him, because he’s grown up around magic and all manner of strange things and can, he’s discovered, shift into a raven. Not quite the same as the massive raven wings that once sprouted from his back – the only good gift his mother ever gave him (except for birthing you she would have reminded him) – but still, it was something. Something he didn’t quite understand because he didn’t quite understand anything around here.
So no, the unicorn itself isn’t weird. It’s just the whole thing. It’s just the fact he fell through the ass crack of the world and landed here and now there’s a dude on a sled being pulled by a unicorn. Yea, you’d think you were high too.
Soon enough the man is chopping wood, which seems logical. Korbin, having absolutely nothing better to do and thinking it can’t hurt to meet a few of the faces around here, crunches through the snow in his slightly less than adequate boots, offering what he hopes is a friendly enough, ’ello across the space between them. He has no sword to help with, just a bone knife that will do little good against a large branch. He could climb, break kindling, collect something, but he doesn’t really know if the stranger even wants help. So he just makes his way over, black cloak pulled tight around him, an easy grin on his face like his whole damn world isn’t reeling. Pretending, at least, is a skill the somewhat useless boy does possess. Maybe making friends would be a skill he’d manage to learn today.
korbin
but the skeleton always gets up and walks
