KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
If he was only angry, it would have been easier. But there was so much more beneath the rage. Hurt, sure, and an intense dislike of being talked about when he wasn't there - because inevitably he would be part of Weaver's story, just as much as she was part of his - but most of all it was just pain. Grief, raw and ragged, that he couldn't let go of. That didn't seem to ease no matter how many years passed.
And because he was at least drunk enough to be reckless, Korbin sent all of it down the bond. Hurled all of those jagged emotions at Sunjata like so much broken glass. He thought he knew anything, because Weaver told him the facts?
Fine. Then let him know what it felt like too. To lose family time and again. To love only to have it ripped away. The horror and grief of seeing his brothers mangled body, to sit watch over a dying sister, to somehow drag up the resolve necessary to burn the closest thing to a father he actually remembered clearly. Not knowing if he would have to do it again a few days later.
He didn't say anything. Didn't really have to; the bond laid it all bare.
And because he was at least drunk enough to be reckless, Korbin sent all of it down the bond. Hurled all of those jagged emotions at Sunjata like so much broken glass. He thought he knew anything, because Weaver told him the facts?
Fine. Then let him know what it felt like too. To lose family time and again. To love only to have it ripped away. The horror and grief of seeing his brothers mangled body, to sit watch over a dying sister, to somehow drag up the resolve necessary to burn the closest thing to a father he actually remembered clearly. Not knowing if he would have to do it again a few days later.
He didn't say anything. Didn't really have to; the bond laid it all bare.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
