KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Feeble or not, it earned a quiet chuckle from Korbin, who nodded and relaxed a bit more. He didn't point out that the Healer could use the debt to make him take that job, whether he wanted it or not... It was something Loren would have to figure out himself. And determine whether it was important enough to cash in that kind of favor for.
"Hm? Oh probably," Korbin smirked, in an offhand way. "You'll see, come Deepfrost and LongNight. Wouldn't want to spoil any surprises."
A brief silence filled by the whistle of wind outside filled the cave. From another pocket, Korbin produced a small box. Inside sat a tiny instrument. No more than a hollowed out piece of wood with thin metal strips attached loosely by wires. As he removed his gloves and touched the tines, the air was filled with a shimmering vibrant sound that lingered for an astonishing amount of time before dying out.
Making some adjustments until the tones rang pure, Korbin settled better and began to play. Lazy, languid notes plucked in an aimless way, strunt together into something that may or might not be a melody. In truth he was just playing, needing to keep his fingers occupied with something.
"Is there anything I should know about you and your family, if I do accept that job offer?" he asked calmly over the music. "There's all kinds of rumors in Snowcloak about you all, but no one actually knows anything." Which may or might not be intentional. Korbin didn't know.
"Hm? Oh probably," Korbin smirked, in an offhand way. "You'll see, come Deepfrost and LongNight. Wouldn't want to spoil any surprises."
A brief silence filled by the whistle of wind outside filled the cave. From another pocket, Korbin produced a small box. Inside sat a tiny instrument. No more than a hollowed out piece of wood with thin metal strips attached loosely by wires. As he removed his gloves and touched the tines, the air was filled with a shimmering vibrant sound that lingered for an astonishing amount of time before dying out.
Making some adjustments until the tones rang pure, Korbin settled better and began to play. Lazy, languid notes plucked in an aimless way, strunt together into something that may or might not be a melody. In truth he was just playing, needing to keep his fingers occupied with something.
"Is there anything I should know about you and your family, if I do accept that job offer?" he asked calmly over the music. "There's all kinds of rumors in Snowcloak about you all, but no one actually knows anything." Which may or might not be intentional. Korbin didn't know.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
