KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Korbin rolled his eyes. The mask of amusement was slipping, his mocking smile fading away until the lips was a narrow line. A sensitive mouth, that one. Easily able to express emotion, had it not been so carefully schooled into trickery. His smiles were not the kind to be trusted. But his eyes, oh, they were cold when the young man turned, and braced large hands on the bar counter. Calloused from weapons and scarred from heavy use - too scarred for a boy his age.
"I don't claim to know you, but Weaver thinks she does. She calls you 'friend', like she believes you'll actually have her back. I think that's stupid." He hadn't forgotten the dagger to his throat, no. The wound had stopped bleeding already, but the sting was still there, whenever he turned his head. But killing was easy, anyone could do that. Others, themselves... it was staying alive, keeping people alive that was the hard part.
"She said you wanted secrets, and would trade her booze for them. That you want to tack your name to this bar, and let her do the actual work of running it. That you'll be elsewhere, building your 'empire', whatever that means. Sounds shady as LongNight to me." Obviously it was Korbin's words, his take on whatever his sister had tried to convey, and it was equally clear he didn't believe that was all there was to it.
There were things they didn't tell him, and his feathers itched with not knowing what it was. It had the smell of a storm brewing when the sky was clear, like trouble coming from somewhere he couldn't see. And now his sister was mixed up in it.
"Why don't you cut the bullshit and tell me what's really going on here?"
"I don't claim to know you, but Weaver thinks she does. She calls you 'friend', like she believes you'll actually have her back. I think that's stupid." He hadn't forgotten the dagger to his throat, no. The wound had stopped bleeding already, but the sting was still there, whenever he turned his head. But killing was easy, anyone could do that. Others, themselves... it was staying alive, keeping people alive that was the hard part.
"She said you wanted secrets, and would trade her booze for them. That you want to tack your name to this bar, and let her do the actual work of running it. That you'll be elsewhere, building your 'empire', whatever that means. Sounds shady as LongNight to me." Obviously it was Korbin's words, his take on whatever his sister had tried to convey, and it was equally clear he didn't believe that was all there was to it.
There were things they didn't tell him, and his feathers itched with not knowing what it was. It had the smell of a storm brewing when the sky was clear, like trouble coming from somewhere he couldn't see. And now his sister was mixed up in it.
"Why don't you cut the bullshit and tell me what's really going on here?"
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
