KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Throwing a glance at the dead hare, Korbin nodded shortly. He had been even more closed off and sullen for the past few days, quiet for the most part and snappy when forced to talk. He knew it, felt bad about it, but didn't know how to switch mood, how to deal with what had happened, what he had done. Weaver was no attuned, she wouldn't understand if he tried to open the barrier around his mind and show her all the turmoil within...
But perhaps he didn't have to.
Without any real warning, the young man threw a punch at his sister. An open palm aimed to thrust into her chest, to push her back, knock the air from her lungs... if it even landed.
That wasn't really the point. Korbin never initiated fights, or training sessions, or did anything like this. And here, now, with his face pale and stiff like a mask... it could just as well have been a scream for help.
But perhaps he didn't have to.
Without any real warning, the young man threw a punch at his sister. An open palm aimed to thrust into her chest, to push her back, knock the air from her lungs... if it even landed.
That wasn't really the point. Korbin never initiated fights, or training sessions, or did anything like this. And here, now, with his face pale and stiff like a mask... it could just as well have been a scream for help.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
