KORBIN
And my hands are not clean,
maybe they never will be
maybe they never will be
Glancing up to see what she wrote, Korbin scoffed, his dolor fading for some real amusement. "Sure. The moment you stop caring what I do," he agreed, knowing it wasn't likely to ever happen for either of them. They were just to close; there would never be a moment when he didn't keep her happiness and well being in mind alongside his own. Slightly ahead, would be more to the truth; he'd lived to keep her well-fed, clothed, warm and smiling just as much as she'd done the same for him. There was nothing he wouldn't do - and few things indeed he hadn't already done - for her.
Which was why he helped out around the Kraai rather than torch the place. Why he accepted Loren's offer of a job instead of shifting and flying off, never to turn back. Why he kept trying, even when it felt pointless and the mere sight of people made his hackles rise.
When the hair on his side of the hide was removed, Korbin rose and went to fetch a different tool. Once Weaver was done, they could start stretching and softening the hide, a process that would continue under the tanning process until the leather was completely done.
She replied with another scribbled note, smudged with grime and fat and luxere fur; it made him arch a brow, even as his expression softened into a smile. "It finally answered, then. Good for you," he replied, and meant it. He'd never really cared about having any favor with the gods, which was why the curses didn't bother him more. Her desire for the attention of the Gods was probably more genuine, and more heartfelt; he was only glad for her. "Do you have the rest? Or do you want me to come along to get that Banshee?" He looked rather hopeful, eager for a chance to make himself useful.
Which was why he helped out around the Kraai rather than torch the place. Why he accepted Loren's offer of a job instead of shifting and flying off, never to turn back. Why he kept trying, even when it felt pointless and the mere sight of people made his hackles rise.
When the hair on his side of the hide was removed, Korbin rose and went to fetch a different tool. Once Weaver was done, they could start stretching and softening the hide, a process that would continue under the tanning process until the leather was completely done.
She replied with another scribbled note, smudged with grime and fat and luxere fur; it made him arch a brow, even as his expression softened into a smile. "It finally answered, then. Good for you," he replied, and meant it. He'd never really cared about having any favor with the gods, which was why the curses didn't bother him more. Her desire for the attention of the Gods was probably more genuine, and more heartfelt; he was only glad for her. "Do you have the rest? Or do you want me to come along to get that Banshee?" He looked rather hopeful, eager for a chance to make himself useful.
But they can still carry you home
when you are ready to sleep
when you are ready to sleep
