KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Would she believe it, if he told her that he had intended for it to go like this? With her on top, and him on his back in the snow? Probably not. That would suggest a level of cunning on Korbin's part that never really saw the light of day. So was it instinct, then? Some subconscious working that told him that what he needed the most right now was to get the snot beaten out of him, that his tongue might finally loosen up?
Who's to say. How well can one person truly know another? Korbin just knew that his fist connecting with her gut hurt as much in his soul as it did her body. And he knew that he didn't fight back as hard as he should have, when she straddled him, pinning his large, lanky frame into the snow. He aimed another jab at her ribs, because it was expected of him, but when she threw her fist into his face, he made no move to block it.
The impact of knuckles against his jaw was jarring. It made his head ring like a bell, knocking it aside without resistance. At least he didn't bite his tongue... but a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth suggested that the inside of his cheek had been torn up against the teeth. No matter.
"I killed someone."
It was a hoarse whisper. Barely audible over the ever present wind. The first words he'd said in hours.
Who's to say. How well can one person truly know another? Korbin just knew that his fist connecting with her gut hurt as much in his soul as it did her body. And he knew that he didn't fight back as hard as he should have, when she straddled him, pinning his large, lanky frame into the snow. He aimed another jab at her ribs, because it was expected of him, but when she threw her fist into his face, he made no move to block it.
The impact of knuckles against his jaw was jarring. It made his head ring like a bell, knocking it aside without resistance. At least he didn't bite his tongue... but a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth suggested that the inside of his cheek had been torn up against the teeth. No matter.
"I killed someone."
It was a hoarse whisper. Barely audible over the ever present wind. The first words he'd said in hours.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
