KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
There was a lot he wanted to say to that. Pretty words that ultimately would be empty and mean very little, coming from him. He didn't know Loren, nor did he particularly care - or so he would like to pretend - what the man did or said or felt. But something about what he said struck a chord with Korbin, hitting a little too close to home.
He shifted again, adjusting his seat until the rock at his back didn't poke his spine quite so uncomfortably. Hummed thoughtfully, as he threw a glance towards the air-vent by the opening; snow had begun to whip inside in small flurries as the wind picked up. He'd been right about the storm getting worse... Not that he was pleased about it.
"I get that feeling," he mumbled. "Question is, who are you trying to prove it to. Us common folk? Your brother, and the rest of the ningos up at the Palace? Or yourself?"
Not like he had an answer to any of it, Korbin was asking himself those same questions daily.
He shifted again, adjusting his seat until the rock at his back didn't poke his spine quite so uncomfortably. Hummed thoughtfully, as he threw a glance towards the air-vent by the opening; snow had begun to whip inside in small flurries as the wind picked up. He'd been right about the storm getting worse... Not that he was pleased about it.
"I get that feeling," he mumbled. "Question is, who are you trying to prove it to. Us common folk? Your brother, and the rest of the ningos up at the Palace? Or yourself?"
Not like he had an answer to any of it, Korbin was asking himself those same questions daily.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
