KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
He understood the message, even if the comparison wasn't exactly on point. Anyone could make a bed, but people able to hunt and fight were less common. Being young and able bodied, Korbin felt a responsibility to do what he could... even when though he hated it. Perhaps especially because he hated it. Anything else would feel like giving up and running away. Leaving an unpleasant task to someone else. It wouldn't be... fair.
It seemed he misinterpreted what Sunjata said, and listened to the correction with slightly less thorny opinions of the man. He sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. Felt the weight of expectation added to his shoulders with that hateful phrase. 'Won't know until you try'... well, that may be, but what of the cost if he failed? And did he even want to succeed, when it would be an undertaking for entirely selfish reasons, underlaid with so much guilt?
It wasn't even a problem of lacking confidence in his own ability. Korbin just didn't think his music was needed. Or wanted.
His silence was full of doubt, heavy and conflicted. What was he supposed to say to all these optimistic people who kept telling him to believe when he couldn't muster any faith?
Fuck off, came to mind. Except it never worked. They kept coming back, kept talking.
"Do you ever get the urge to just... shift and fly off?" he mused instead, thoughts turning dark as the urge to run grew inside. "Let instinct swallow you up and forget you were ever anything else?"
It was a growing urge, these days. And his tether to other humans was a single young woman, who would never forgive him if he left her.
It seemed he misinterpreted what Sunjata said, and listened to the correction with slightly less thorny opinions of the man. He sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. Felt the weight of expectation added to his shoulders with that hateful phrase. 'Won't know until you try'... well, that may be, but what of the cost if he failed? And did he even want to succeed, when it would be an undertaking for entirely selfish reasons, underlaid with so much guilt?
It wasn't even a problem of lacking confidence in his own ability. Korbin just didn't think his music was needed. Or wanted.
His silence was full of doubt, heavy and conflicted. What was he supposed to say to all these optimistic people who kept telling him to believe when he couldn't muster any faith?
Fuck off, came to mind. Except it never worked. They kept coming back, kept talking.
"Do you ever get the urge to just... shift and fly off?" he mused instead, thoughts turning dark as the urge to run grew inside. "Let instinct swallow you up and forget you were ever anything else?"
It was a growing urge, these days. And his tether to other humans was a single young woman, who would never forgive him if he left her.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
