KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
A sidelong glance showed that the young man didn't buy the lie for one second. But Loren moved the conversation along, and Korbin didn't feel inclined to push into the other man's business. He didn't care, remember? Though that too was a lie, and didn't need any slipped emotions to figure out. Wasn't he sitting there, listening after all?
Pulling off his gloves, he rummaged through his pockets and produced a pouch of rations. Dried meat, meant for emergencies... but while this wasn't at the level where they'd risk starving to death just yet, he still felt the need for something to do. Producing a vicious looking hunting knife, he began to cut thin strips of the meat, and offered one to Loren. It could almost be mistaken for a peace offering.
"It's nothing personal," he said, after a long pause. "I just don't trust outsiders. People leave, or they die... or they get others killed. I don't have room for anyone who won't stick around." Whether it be because they were too caught up in other things to look after the community, too weak to survive or take care of themselves, or too full of themselves to realize what a dangerous place Halo was.
"You said you know Weaver... how much has she told you about our family?" He brought a piece of the meat to his mouth, and chewed. It tasted of smoke and salt and wilderness, of long hard hours spent on tedious, boring work. It tasted like pride, and loathing, and stubborn resilience.
It tasted like home.
Pulling off his gloves, he rummaged through his pockets and produced a pouch of rations. Dried meat, meant for emergencies... but while this wasn't at the level where they'd risk starving to death just yet, he still felt the need for something to do. Producing a vicious looking hunting knife, he began to cut thin strips of the meat, and offered one to Loren. It could almost be mistaken for a peace offering.
"It's nothing personal," he said, after a long pause. "I just don't trust outsiders. People leave, or they die... or they get others killed. I don't have room for anyone who won't stick around." Whether it be because they were too caught up in other things to look after the community, too weak to survive or take care of themselves, or too full of themselves to realize what a dangerous place Halo was.
"You said you know Weaver... how much has she told you about our family?" He brought a piece of the meat to his mouth, and chewed. It tasted of smoke and salt and wilderness, of long hard hours spent on tedious, boring work. It tasted like pride, and loathing, and stubborn resilience.
It tasted like home.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
