KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Scribbling something on the paper, the young man nodded at the reply with a thoughtful hum, calculation narrowing those dark blue eyes as he kept going over the supplies.
"Alright. Weaver has yet to set up a menu for this place, so you'll have to make do with what I can make for now." He scrubbed a hand over the face, dragged fingers through the unruly black hair and immediately tried to smooth it back down again, to no avail.
Throwing a glance at the roaring fireplace, he sighed. It filled the room with balmy heat, and it made working far more sweaty a business than he was used to. Pausing, Korbin pulled the thick sweater over his head and hefted it onto a nearby chair before moving to carry the remaining items into storage. The plain tank top worn beneath showed off a wiry, reedy built and the kind of body that had yet to fully come into its own. His muscles was of the sinewy type, from too much work and not enough food, a far cry from the swelling opulence Sunjata could boast. Peaking up over the collar at the back of Korbin's neck was the dark lines of ink, black wings spreading feathers over the back and shoulders. Lifelike enough that they could have been real.
"Anything you don't eat?" he asked, in the same focused manner as before. Welcoming was perhaps taking it a bit too far, but Korbin did at least try not to be rude. Customer, and all that. Focusing on that made the man's presence easier to swallow.
"Alright. Weaver has yet to set up a menu for this place, so you'll have to make do with what I can make for now." He scrubbed a hand over the face, dragged fingers through the unruly black hair and immediately tried to smooth it back down again, to no avail.
Throwing a glance at the roaring fireplace, he sighed. It filled the room with balmy heat, and it made working far more sweaty a business than he was used to. Pausing, Korbin pulled the thick sweater over his head and hefted it onto a nearby chair before moving to carry the remaining items into storage. The plain tank top worn beneath showed off a wiry, reedy built and the kind of body that had yet to fully come into its own. His muscles was of the sinewy type, from too much work and not enough food, a far cry from the swelling opulence Sunjata could boast. Peaking up over the collar at the back of Korbin's neck was the dark lines of ink, black wings spreading feathers over the back and shoulders. Lifelike enough that they could have been real.
"Anything you don't eat?" he asked, in the same focused manner as before. Welcoming was perhaps taking it a bit too far, but Korbin did at least try not to be rude. Customer, and all that. Focusing on that made the man's presence easier to swallow.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
