I must confess

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

Beautiful words. A nice little speech, encouragement wrapped up in the guise of a challenge. Perfect to bait a contrary young man into changing his ways... oh, if only the kid could be bothered to listen. But Korbin rejected the message, dropped the chance for redemption like it was a hot coal. Fairly recoiled from all of it, because what Sunjata said struck too deep, touched too sensitive spots in a mind that wasn't ready to accept the change.

Or maybe he was ready and maybe it did reach him, and the boy just resented having it brought to him by this person, whom he was so detemined to hate. It was hard to say, because all Korbin really knew was that it hurt to hear it. All of it. Made him want to howl in protest, scream until his voice cracked...

Not a sound passed over his lips however. The moment Sunjata shoved off him, Korbin shifted. The black raven leaped into the air and winged its way high up, off and out of reach of the panther so he couldn't be caught again. His head was a mess, every muscle in his body crying out in protest. Torn between the destructive urge to keep launching himself upon the Flood, and the raven's impulse to flee this fight he couldn't win.

"I don't want anyone to care! I want to be left the fuck alone so I can give up in peace and quiet!" The retort came with a crackling, brittle thought that was fragile as new ice. "If you don't give a damn then stop pretending that you do!"

Stop the talking, the advice, the comparing and understanding; it hurt and he didn't want to feel anything.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

don't be scared

you're like the calmest slit to my neck

He’s half surprised, half pleased with the way Korbin shifts, takes that staggering ascent to the sky out of reach of the panther – though Sunjata stalks closer. His steel gaze trained on the black raven as he prowls again within earshot, easily, though there’s a hint of a limp to his front leg because of the collarbone hit. His ears perk as soon as Korbin begins to speak again, gaze lingering and narrowing predatorily along the space Korbin sits in, maw parting ever so slightly as a growl begins to slip from his throat.

He wants to tell Korbin how shitty of an idea that is, but it’s not until it registers that it’s probably Sunjata saying it that Korbin especially doesn’t like. At least Korbin’s right, though. Sunjata doesn’t care. But it’s not him that he’s worried about with it, either. I don’t care, Korbin. But you know who does? Weaver. He snarls back at the raven, his annoyance at Korbin’s short sightedness almost palpable on his tongue.

Are you going to let her lose another brother? His voice is even thicker in his accent in the attuned bond, dripping with that ferocity and frustration of before. Do you want to lose her, too?

bring me in closer

SUNJATA

KORBIN

Leave my loneliness unbroken!
- quit the bust above my door!

The raven didn't look away from the panther, wary of its approach and ready to return to the sky if it got too close. Preferably he would have stayed aloft but he was hurting too much, his back and ribs a torment that wouldn't ease for days.

Opening a heavy beak, it hissed menacingly at the panther, its thoughts, Korbin's own mind laced with black despair no matter how he tried to conceal it. "Why do you think I'm still here?" It wasn't meant as a question. "Weaver is the only thing that still matter. The only one."

Everything else was pointless. Just pastime, things that didn't matter. Pointless amusements that soon lost their allure. She was the anchor, the only solid point, the only person he trusted and would do anything for.

Even keep on living.

Quoth the Raven,
"Nevermore."

don't be scared

you're like the calmest slit to my neck

The raven doesn’t frighten Sunjata, not with those pinpoint steel eyes trained on the creature that wouldn’t be a match against this form. Instead, at the hiss from the beak, Sunjata offers a rumbling growl of his own, edged with a hiss. So fucking act like it. He snarls down the bond, frustration evident with the words shot back.

He doesn’t care what Korbin does, but he’s close enough to Weaver that he inadvertently does have to care. And he bears those secrets just as much as Korbin might, despite not airing them as the raven had. For Sunjata? Those confessions came at his lowest points, to those he cared about, not aired in the open to a stranger.

Stop placing the blame on everyone else and give your sister a brother that’s fucking glad that she’s here. Let her do what she wants, let her live. You don’t get to be the judge of it because you don’t like it. His tail sweeps along the top of the sand, claws puncturing the sand beneath his paws. He’d had to do the same with Saartjie. And it had only strengthened the relationship they had, the belief that he could protect her if he had to. And he would have, had faced problem after problem and killed his way out of Korofi only to ensure she was safe. He doesn’t know if Korbin would do the same.

bring me in closer

SUNJATA

KORBIN

Leave my loneliness unbroken!
- quit the bust above my door!

This wasn't normal for Korbin. He didn't usually spill his guts to the first person who stuck around to listen. It was a sign of how close to the bottom he'd come, how heavily it all weighed on him that he was speaking now. How scared he was of himself, that this belliggerent scream for help would erupt.

Korbin was just drunk enough to have the bonds of his tongue loosened, rattled and torn open by the fights - mental and physical - and, perhaps, strangely comfortable to spew it all over this person. It could even be called trust, if by that one meant trust in that the Flood really couldn't care less about Korbin. And the raven didn't care one bit about Sunjata. They had already established that, so... it was safe. He couldn't hurt someone he cared about by throwing all this venom out in the open now. Weaver was safe, couldn't be wounded by anything that happened here today.

"If I knew how to do that I wouldn't be here right now!" he snapped back, in another violent hiss from the bird. "I don't know how to let go! I don't know how to be happy or live the way she wants me to! I can't even fucking fake a smile she won't see right through, and I sure as hell won't lie to her! So go on, tell me how to stop wanting to tear open the throat of everyone who comes within arms reach just so they'll leave me alone, because that too I have no fucking clue on how to accomplish!"

Sunjata's frustration was met in equal measure by Korbin's own, the mental dead end of his continual chase for answers he never found. It was an endless spiral that just sunk him deeper and deeper into darkness with every turn.

It's not like he wanted to be like this. Once, not too long ago, he had been quick to smile laugh, reveled in the chance to make others do the same. How had he come to this place? Where had that boy gone?

He didn't recognize himself anymore, and that was perhaps the scariest part of it.

Quoth the Raven,
"Nevermore."

don't be scared

you're like the calmest slit to my neck

The thing about change is that you have to be willing to do it in order to work on it. And what Sunjata can see in Korbin right now is the opposite of that — the hunkering down and shutting out, knowing that people can see what’s wrong and not be willing to let them in. He knows. He’s done it so many times. Until he’d had Nate pinned against the wall and his own stubbornness won out against Sunjata’s own.

And then a break, a shattering of that facade.

His ears remained pinned against what Korbin’s said, lip twitching in a half snarl as he keeps his eyes trained on Korbin. You have to find what helps you cope. He sends back, a bit calmer. He doesn’t know what that might be for Korbin, maybe to channel it into the music he makes or a different type of work. All he knows is that for Sunjata himself, his means of coping often came with brawling or sharing a bed. It worked for him, the only reason he’d made it this far.

Channel your anger into something until it stops controlling you. And then move on. His tail flicks again, ears lifting a small amount from an inky black skull.

bring me in closer

SUNJATA

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

For a moment, it seemed that this too would fly right over the boy's head. Roll off him like so much water, get lost in the seething turmoil of his soul. But the message was so simple. So plain, and void of sentiment - at least none that he could see - that, like a stone, it sunk clean through his anger and resentment and frustration, and came to rest quietly on the bottom of his soul.

Find what helps him cope.

No suggestions on what that might be, no attempts to tug or push him into any direction. Just... find something. Anything. It... actually sounded like something he could do. Even Korbin had things that he could lose himself in - that's what he wanted to do anyway - and if he was allowed to pour himself into that, then... then maybe he could try.

Slowly, the anger dissippated. All the pent up emotions drained out, gradually, and with it the bird deflated. Shimmered and changed, as the boy shifted back into himself. He slumped back into the sand, bruised and exhausted, newly broken and not yet remade into anything.

"Alright." The reply came quietly, hoarsely, like he'd been screaming his lungs out. Barely a whisper, and it sounded so very hollow.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

Sunjata completely expects Korbin to deny that tidbit of advice as well, but as the words leave his mind through the Attuned bond, he can’t help but to focus on the raven a bit harder as the attuned bond grows a bit silent. And he supplements the thought process with the last tidbit of information he has, going along with finding whatever helped him cope, whatever got him to move on. And perhaps some of the advice was needed to himself as well, though it was always easier said than done.

So far things have gone well.

He is surprised, however, as Korbin’s avian form dissipates and he flutters down to the sand again, shifting into himself and slumping back into the sand. The answer is unhelpful, really, but a start. At least the kid wasn’t angry anymore. And Sunjata shifts back into himself, reaching up to rub at his collarbone where a bright red bruise would soon be purple in the morning. “Probably going to want to ice your jaw.” He offers, pulling out another cigarette to light and try to ignore the throbbing to his chest and jaw.

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KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

He felt the throbbing ache of his wounds all the more now, as adrenaline slowly left his system. Mouth dry and head pounding a steady throb in pace with the heartbeats, he rather wished for more to drink. Water, alcohol, anything that might wash the taste of blood from his mouth. Probing the inside of his mouth with the tongue, he found that only the lip had actually split; it would no doubt be swollen for days, just like the jaw. It hurt to open his mouth too much.

"Plenty of ice on the way home," he mumbled, as he gingerly examined his ribs, to check if they really were cracked. No... didn't seem like it. But they hurt like a bitch.

Stealing a glance at Sunjata, there was a rebellious stir of satisfaction when he saw the bruises on the guy, the careful way the Arbiter moved. Korbin might have lost, but he hadn't made a fool of himself. At least not in that fight.

But then... once that feeling settled, there was guilt. Not a fool in a fistfight, but a damned idiot in just about every other way. For quite some time he sat quiet, chewing and stewing over that... then he let out a slow sigh.

"I'm... sorry. Again."

For the words he'd flung around, at least. Korbin didn't really mean most of it.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

He takes a long drag from the cigarette when it’s finally lit, reaching up to rub at his collarbone with tender fingers, feeling the bruises form beneath his knuckles and along the sharp edged bone there. “You’re gonna need it.” He replies a bit gruffly, turning a bit to better look at Korbin now that the steam has been lifted, now that he can see what sort of damage he’s done to the other man.

Part of him thinks good, he deserves it, but there that other part that understands the reason it started to begin with. So he inhales another breath of smoke, exhaling it slowly into the air as it curls around his nose.

Korbin’s sigh is met with a raise of his brow as he shifts his weight. “Don’t be.” He rumbles, hand moving in the air as if to explain that he didn’t really care in the long run. If he did care, however, that would be a different story. “I should be heading home, though. Sure you can find your way back to the portal?” He offers in a plume of smoke again, pausing ever so slightly as if Korbin might have something to say that would get him to stay.

get a load of this trainwreck

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

Korbin didn't rise. He remained seated in the sand, the pale skin of his bare torso all but glowing in the dark. He looked every bit the teenage boy he was in that moment; too young and a little lost, desperately trying to act the part of the man he hadn't quite grown into yet.

But he waved the advice off with a hand, just like he did the concern, however marginal it might be. "Of course," he replied lakonically, dismissive and bone weary. "Off you go, I don't need babysitting."

There was no point in trying to cross the tundra at night; he'd just stay there on the beach until the sun came up. No one would bother him; if they tried, he could just fly away.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

The advice gets waved off, granting a snort from Sunjata. He wonders if he was ever like this, so… Distinctly denying everything someone has to say, taking it like an attack of sorts. But he doesn’t move from his spot, instead he simply drags again from the cigarette, steel eyes focused on Korbin a bit more intently. “Are you sure?” He muses, flashing a small half grin toward the young man.

He looked tired, and Sunjata felt tired. So perhaps it was a bit of that as he turns his attention away from Korbin, down the line of Haulani where the rest of the buildings were located. “Y’know, there’s an Inn here. If you wanted to just rest and recoup before returning home.” He rumbles, gaze flickering back toward the other man to see whether or not he’d accept the help or deny it again.

get a load of this trainwreck

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

Perhaps it was simply that Sunjata drew out the worst in the young raven. In a strange way, his current means of survival had become dependent on this guy for continued support of the Kraai, and since Weaver no longer hunted as much Korbin would either have to stick to the bar or find some other occuppation to sustain himself on. He disliked being beholden to people he didn't know. It was hard even to let Weaver be the sole provider for their gamily. It was a debt he hadn't agreed to or taken on by choice, and rather than place the blame on Weaver for accepting the deal, he chose to fault Sunjata for offering it in the first place.

And maybe that was another piece of the puzzle, to explain why he was so reluctant to accept anything that came from this guy. It felt like he was placing himself further in debt with no way to pay it back... because to do that, he'd have to admit to be in a weaker position in the first place.

Gods, Korbin hated his own mind at times.

"Not like I'll feeeze to death if I fall asleep out here," he pointed out, and looked up. The Arbiter's doubt about his ability to take care of himself was more than a little insulting; had he not just proved that he could put up a good fight? "I'm sure the inn is nice. I'm just as sure I'll be leaving empty handed if I were to pay the cost of a bed."

There was nothing wrong with the beach; too sandy, too warm, but at least it was free of charge.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

“Might get robbed though.” Sunjata rumbles a bit halfway, shoulder rising and falling in a shrug – the one that wasn’t bruised on the collarbone at least – and then he focuses on the path once more before sighing a plume of smoke. “See the thing is that I’m the Arbiter. I can get you a bed for free.” Gods, what was it with Korbin and grating on his nerves? He couldn’t tell, but the option was laid out. If Korbin wanted to remain laying sprawled out in the sand, bruised and with a split lip, who was Sunjata to deny it?

Still, it was his job to ensure that people stayed safe within Torchline. So he has to ask, has to ensure that Korbin realizes what he’s doing.

But when it seems like it won’t go anywhere, he turns on his heel again and takes a drag from the smoke, glancing over his shoulder toward Korbin. “I’m going home. Come along if you want a room, if not… Well, good luck.” A shrug granted once more with it because honestly he yet again doesn’t care. But he makes sure to pull his strides toward the alley that walks by the Inn, just to ensure if Korbin does follow, that he’d at least uphold his side of the offer.

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