KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
His eyes widened, then narrowed as the chunk of meat appeared from nowhere. Korbin reached out and took it when Loren offered it up, half expecting it to disappear between his fingers. But it remained, and he examined it closely. Turned it over, looked at the marbling, the fibres, smelled and even licked at it as he tried to detemine what kind of animal it might come from.
"Magic?" he asked, just to clarify; it was fairly obvious. "What kind of meat is this?" He had seen Weaver play with fire all his life, but this was different. Magic wasn't shunned, but not exactly flaunted either. Or hadn't been, until Neron showed up. And Zariah after that.
"Greenhouses? Nothing. The healers grow herbs inside, that's all I know... no idea how. Never was my place to know."
He handed the meat back. Without a fire he couldn't do much with it. And he wasn't hungry enough to eat it raw. Not yet.
"Magic?" he asked, just to clarify; it was fairly obvious. "What kind of meat is this?" He had seen Weaver play with fire all his life, but this was different. Magic wasn't shunned, but not exactly flaunted either. Or hadn't been, until Neron showed up. And Zariah after that.
"Greenhouses? Nothing. The healers grow herbs inside, that's all I know... no idea how. Never was my place to know."
He handed the meat back. Without a fire he couldn't do much with it. And he wasn't hungry enough to eat it raw. Not yet.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
