KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
He was nothing if not stubborn. Kick a dog and it might scurry off, kick a wolf... but that's getting ahead of the story.
Korbin was restless. Frustrated by the silence that had been imposed upon him. It brought home several truths he had failed to appreciate before this. Revealed parts of him he didn't know to treasure until they were taken away.
Never had his fingers itched more to pluck the strings of his lute. Never before had he longed so much tohear the sound of his own voice sing, tell tales, laugh and make others around him laugh. The sullen, brooding temper tantrums he subjected himself and others to stood out to him now as the uncharacteristic oddity it really was, annd Korbin wanted nothing more than to step away from it.
He knew what he wanted. What he needed. In a flash of clarity sharper than the clash of thundersnow it struck him, made him bolt up from the bed where he had been tossing and churning. Like a fool, he rushed out into the frigid Halo night - and was forced to turn around after only a few paces, to put on proper layers before resuming the sprint back to the shrine. Lute in hand, just like last time.
And once there... he stood staring at the flickering candles. Bemused, heart thundering. A wild beat he felt but couldn't hear. Ah, he wanted to hear it so badly...
Clenching his teeth together, the boy sat back down on the cold ground. Placed the lute on his lap, and began to play. Offering up the only thing of value he possessed.
Was it a waterfall of sweet notes to cascade from his fingers in a harmony of sound, in a worthy ode to the brilliant stars above? Was it the raucous belligerence of a raven cawed in furious disharmony, cursing the one who cursed him? Was it just the solitary howl of a lone wolf, mouring all that had been lost, longing for what might be gained?
He didn't know. Had no way of knowing. Korbin just played, with eyes closed, trying his damndest to play his soul out. So that someone might hear. And answer.
It didn't even matter if he was cursed again; it was worth the risk.
Korbin was restless. Frustrated by the silence that had been imposed upon him. It brought home several truths he had failed to appreciate before this. Revealed parts of him he didn't know to treasure until they were taken away.
Never had his fingers itched more to pluck the strings of his lute. Never before had he longed so much to
He knew what he wanted. What he needed. In a flash of clarity sharper than the clash of thundersnow it struck him, made him bolt up from the bed where he had been tossing and churning. Like a fool, he rushed out into the frigid Halo night - and was forced to turn around after only a few paces, to put on proper layers before resuming the sprint back to the shrine. Lute in hand, just like last time.
And once there... he stood staring at the flickering candles. Bemused, heart thundering. A wild beat he felt but couldn't hear. Ah, he wanted to hear it so badly...
Clenching his teeth together, the boy sat back down on the cold ground. Placed the lute on his lap, and began to play. Offering up the only thing of value he possessed.
Was it a waterfall of sweet notes to cascade from his fingers in a harmony of sound, in a worthy ode to the brilliant stars above? Was it the raucous belligerence of a raven cawed in furious disharmony, cursing the one who cursed him? Was it just the solitary howl of a lone wolf, mouring all that had been lost, longing for what might be gained?
He didn't know. Had no way of knowing. Korbin just played, with eyes closed, trying his damndest to play his soul out. So that someone might hear. And answer.
It didn't even matter if he was cursed again; it was worth the risk.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
