Don't put your happiness in other people's hands
Sometimes, even Korbin forgot that he was deaf. Simple things like knocking at a door and expecting a reply still came without thinking. Much like an amputee might raise a hand to scratch an itch on the nose, it still hadn't quite settled with him that he was different now.
The notion that this would now be a permanent thing still scared him half out of his mind.
Being able to communicate without the need for pen and paper - or the chalk and board he'd taken to carrying around while in Snowcloak - was a nice feeling though, and Loren's greeting was met with a lopsided smile, more wry than happy.
"I hope I lost you a fortune," he replied, and followed the healer into the room beyond. Closing the door behind him, he took a moment to look around. Dark eyes trailed over the cots, the shelves with jars, herbs, storage and equipment; the scent of herbs and ointments was sharp in the air, as was a certain smell of... cleanliness that wasn't entirely usual in the Citadel, so often choked with wood smoke and ash.
Turning back to regard Loren, Korbin put his hands away in their usual pockets, his stance not quite as casually confident as was the norm. He looked a little out of place. Without the heavy overcoat and layers upon layers of clothing, he was just as tall but far leaner, with a boyish cast to the shoulders that suggested he still had some growing left to do. Dressed in simple dark clothes, he gave off an almost somber impression, further enhanced by the black, messy hair.
"Well... I'm here. What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked.
The notion that this would now be a permanent thing still scared him half out of his mind.
Being able to communicate without the need for pen and paper - or the chalk and board he'd taken to carrying around while in Snowcloak - was a nice feeling though, and Loren's greeting was met with a lopsided smile, more wry than happy.
"I hope I lost you a fortune," he replied, and followed the healer into the room beyond. Closing the door behind him, he took a moment to look around. Dark eyes trailed over the cots, the shelves with jars, herbs, storage and equipment; the scent of herbs and ointments was sharp in the air, as was a certain smell of... cleanliness that wasn't entirely usual in the Citadel, so often choked with wood smoke and ash.
Turning back to regard Loren, Korbin put his hands away in their usual pockets, his stance not quite as casually confident as was the norm. He looked a little out of place. Without the heavy overcoat and layers upon layers of clothing, he was just as tall but far leaner, with a boyish cast to the shoulders that suggested he still had some growing left to do. Dressed in simple dark clothes, he gave off an almost somber impression, further enhanced by the black, messy hair.
"Well... I'm here. What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked.
They'll drop it
KORBIN
