two steps away from a real disaster

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

He didn't pray often. It had never become a habit, and despite his supposed blessing of attunement, Korbin had no personal connection to the gods. Nevertheless, things had happened recently that made him think more deeply. And so he took his lute and went to the shrine, one night when the bitter cold had driven everyone else inside and he could be alone with his thoughts.

Sitting down on the cold ground, he removed his gloves and began to tune the instrument, slow and careful, until it was tempered to the climate and the notes rang true. As he began to play, he wove a melody in homage to the stars, to life and all the soft, gentle things there was no room for in this life of his.

"I killed a man," he confessed, speaking softly into the night. "No one blames me for it. I saved lives, they say. It couldn't be helped. If I wove a story of what happened and sung it in the tavern, I'd be hailed a hero, a fighter, a good man. But I don't feel like one."

The music turned pensive, melancholy. The lute sang his deep felt regret and shame for finding no other way out of the situation he had ended up in.

"I would repent, if I could find a way. I'd rather save lives than take them. Rather help people than hurt them. Sometimes I wish I had that healing touch, like the Abandoned do. But... all I'm really good at is music." And what role did that have to play in this beautiful, harsh wasteland where every breath was a battle?

"Safrin... fair Lady. You're the herold of life, right? What would I have to do, to step off this path I never wanted to walk?"

------

Prayer to Safrin. Wishes to enchant the lute so that it heals those who listen when it's played.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

Safrin wasn't listening, but somebody was. The music of the lute surrounded Korbin, beautiful notes rising in eloquent crescendo as his fingers plucked and played. Almost of their own volition they moved, faster and faster along the strings, the sound rising and escalating and resounding enough to drown out his doubts and thoughts. For a moment Korbin would feel utter peace, his regrets inaudible beneath the swell of the music- -and then, silence. Korbin has been cursed and has lost his hearing for the next 3 weeks (OOC).

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

He thought the swelling music meant his prayer was answered. That something divine was happening, that his wish might be granted. But oh, with the surging hope, the disappointment when he was proved wrong became all the harder to swallow.

The silence that fell on him was absolute. Thick, heavy, oppressive. Not even the sounds of his own body reached him anymore. No heartbeat, or breath, or the groan of muscles and tendons as he staggered to his feet. Truly staggered, because apparently being able to hear your own feet connect with the ground was as important as feeling it.

Shocked, reeling and with something acrid and bitter filling his mouth - so there was no repenting for him, then? - Korbin turned his back on the shrine, and with lute in hand he stalked off. Tried to, at least... It was more akin to a despairaing shuffle.

And the silence still remained.

-----

- Fin

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.