Silverland

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

It was snowing when he stepped through the portal and back home into Halo. Not the harsh, wind-driven needles of snow that sometimes seemed more ice than anything else, but a slow, heavy flurry of thumb-sized flakes that drifted quietly down from an overcast sky. The season, this close to deepfrost, the temperature was rather warm. At least by Halo standards.

The contrast from the balmy heat of Torchline was brutal, but Korbin welcomed the change. Inhaling a deep breath from the chill air, he stepped out from the shelter of the cave that housed the portal and let the snow come to settle on his shoulders. The soft brush of it against his face felt like fingertips, gentle and sweet, and he tilted his face up with a half smile, to savor the sensation.

With every breath, he felt purged of the salt, the warmth, the many colors of the southern coast. Slowly, one by one, the young raven let them bleed out of him to be replaced by the starkness of the landscape around him. White and black. Subdued shades of blue, gray, green and browns, wherever an evergreen tree managed to cling to the rocky mountainside in mute defiance of the brutal cold.

Only when he felt more like himself again did he move, and started to make his way down towards the road that would take him home. Flying would be faster, but Korbin felt like walking for a bit. To savor the beauty of his favorite place in this world.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

Silver on white.

That was the color of the sky above the path to the portal, white snow falling from grey clouds onto silver wings as the dragon glided low through the flurries, tired wingbeats speeding his travel home. More supplies had been left for the Grounders, laboriously hauled to the Citadel, checked by the guards, and placed in the rooms that would house the refugees. One last attempt to see his people through the winter before the snows closed the pass to most travel. Raven wings would have been more subtle, but not nearly as warm as the silver scales that covered him from slender nose to feathered tail, warding off the unnatural chill of Halo's late autumn.

It was because he was tired that he didn't see the shape below, folding feather-scaled wings in a lazy dive to walk the rest of the way on foot. He landed on three limbs, the fourth curled around a pale blue stone that he clutched with care, his thoughts on the masked god and the task set before him. Only as the snow flurried up around him did he recognize the distinctly human bundle of coats and layers nearby and he froze, uncertain whether the poor man would attempt to fight or flee. Terribly sorry, I don't suppose you can hear me? he sent through the Attuned bond in an attempt to reassure the stranger, however belatedly.

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

His thoughts were blissfully free in the moment, focused mainly on placing one foot in front of the other and on the scenery that slowly drifted past. That all came to an abrupt end when a sound reached him, of wind rushing over great wings. But it was too loud, too vast, and too close; looking up, he saw a giant gray shadow break through the clouds, and purely on instinct the young man crouched down.

It was a dragon. Huge, silver-scaled, and it came flying straight towards him. It was all he could do not to run, fearing that any sudden movements might draw the creatures attention. Hiding was out of the question too; he was standing too far away from any rocks, trees or crevices that might shelter him from view. Heart racing, he felt the ground shake beneath his feet as the dragon landed, and without much hope of it doing him any good, Korbin reached for his dagger.

Then, without warning, the creature turned its eyes on him. He heard words form in his mind, and balked at the touch, expecting something terrible, something vast and ancient in the mind that brushed against his.

But... there was only the words. A faint sense of hesitation.

"... I hear you," he replied, voice hoarse and unsteady, spoken by one who couldn't hear himself. Whatever richness in timbre or tone he might've possessed before was made flat and wavering, rough from disuse.

It felt better to speak than to shift. Korbin preferred to have at least one trick to fall back on if this dragon felt like turning him into dinner.

"What do you want, dragon?" The tension in his voice, in his stance, was palpable. Ready for anything - to fight, or flee, or strike whatever bargain necessary to make his way out of this alive.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

Ah, damn, the man looked decidedly displeased to see him - not that Jigano could blame him, and the silver dragon sat back in the snow, wings folding and tail with its great scaled vanes curling in a broad arc to the side. He dropped the small gem in the snow and then dipped his head to take it in his teeth - gently, gently - as the beleaguered traveler prepared to defend himself.

Only a dragon for the moment, he did his best to reassure his fellow traveler. It's getting too cold for most of my other shifts, and this was the fastest way to the portal. I'm headed back to the Hollowed Grounds, for dinner and a warm fire at home. I was delivering more supplies for the Grounders today, up to the Palace. Are you headed back that way yourself?

The chatter might have been annoying, but he hoped it was also comforting enough to assure the young man - the... familiar? young man? it was always so hard to tell beneath all the layers - that he wasn't a dragon of the man-eating variety.

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

The chatter was annoying, but it served its purpose. Gradually, the young man relaxed. At least, in so much as he let go of his dagger and straightened up slightly. There was still no end of wariness as he turned dark eyes on the creature - the other Attuned? - and he didn't thaw much, even with the reassurances.

"I see. You are... a friend of the Grand Healer, aren't you? He told me of someone who could shift into a dragon." It certainly didn't do this person any favors, as he wasn't on the best of terms with Loren at the moment, but at least Korbin wasn't faced with an actual dragon.

Part of him was disappointed. That would have been an interesting way to die. Worthy of song.

"No, I'm heading home to the Citadel. Last trip before the storms set in." His gaze never left the creature, roaming over wings and scales. Judging, measuring... almost a bit hungry. He'd never had a chance of seeing a dragon up close before. Last time had been too chaotic. Not a moment he wanted to think too long on.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

I am. Jigano: Loreseeker, bard, and general busybody, he introduced himself with a rather cheerful mental tone, still trying to reassure. Shifting into another form may have been faster, but it also would have been colder and he was tired after a long day. There was both comfort and strength in the dragon's bones, and any of the Tundra's other predators would be unlikely to approach them while he wore them. Are you...? Hmm. He dipped his head to try and peer at Korbin's face without getting any closer. Are you Weaver's brother, by chance? Korbin? Loren had suggested not mentioning his name to the young man in the letter he'd sent, but Weaver had mentioned her younger brother during their chat on the way to the Kraai.

He straightened again, fighting the urge to preen as he saw Korbin's interest. He could be a vain creature in any shape, but the dragon's pride, like its temper, tended to amplify it. I could walk with you back to within sight of the walls, Jigano offered, though not without a bit of yearning for that hot meal back at home. Unless you preferred to fly? You're the raven who helped prepare the Palace rooms for the Grounders, aren't you?

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

"I've heard you name mentioned," he replied neutrally. There was no real change in his expression for all that the stranger kept leeching emotions at him. If they were meant to make him smile or relax further, it failed.

It rather put him off, actually, to be recognized by someone he didn't know. While being Weaver's brother wasn't something to be ashamed of, it irked him that that's how anyone might be familiar with him. Based on his sister, not his own merit. "I am Korbin Hale, yes," he responded, a bit clipped. Dark eyes narrowed at the offer, at the mention of the preparations he had indeed helped with. Thinking back on the day, he briefly recalled seeing a person there whom he didn't know... but he'd been too caught up with his own problems to pay much attention.

"No need, I will be fine on my own. If you have no business with me, you should be on your way."

Tearing his gaze from the dragon's sleek form, Korbin forced his legs to move, to bring him a few steps aside, meaning to walk around the dragon as he continued down the path towards the causeway. His instincts kept screaming at him to be careful, that the beast was dangerous... but he overruled them.

It was just another man, another person he didn't care to engage with.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

The young man was a mirror, reflecting back an empty room. He gave the bard no openings to try and tease into, no cracks to ease apart. Loren's and Weaver's comments whispered in the dragon's mind, wry warnings of the vagaries of adolescence, and this was the third time he had seen them proven. Even his offer of company and shared protection - alright, maybe not exactly shared - was rebuffed, and if he'd had moveable brows he would have raised one in surprise at hearing a Halovian chose danger over safety.

Then again, Korbin was hardly the only surly, stubbornly independent Halovian he'd met.

The dragon drew himself up regally, momentarily flummoxed and taking shelter in the native poise of the form. He turned only his head at first, watching Korbin walk past, then his sinuous neck curved to follow the young man as he moved behind easy sight.

Have I said something to offend you, Korbin Hale? he asked, far more solemnly. Or done something to earn your displeasure? If he didn't ask know it would eat him alive the whole way home, wondering why the young man wished so little to do with him.

It wasn't as though he had Deimos's excuse of being subjected to the bard's puns, after all. Not yet.

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

He felt the gaze of the dragon burn his back as he walked around it. The question made Korbin pause in his track, if only briefly. Possibly he was a bit surprised; he'd been fairly civil, compared to some of the other recent interactions he'd had with people. No doubt due to the massive scale of the dragon.

"No," he replied, "not that I know of. There's no reason for small talk either though. I don't know you, nor do I really care to." His tone was calm, even and entirely dismissive.

Honestly, Korbin was more than a little tired of all the strangers that tried to weedle their way into his life recently. He had no desire to befriend any of them, but it seemed impossible to get that to sink in without resorting to bluntness and rude behaviour.

The young raven resumed walking, continuing to make his way towards the path. Hoping this would be the end of the chatter. He had been in a rather good mood, and it wasn't too late for it to come back.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

I... see, the dragon said, his mental voice surprisingly soft as he watched the young man's back, stiffened with the excessive pride of youth. I would like to know you, some day, if you change your mind on that. Loren and Weaver had both made Korbin sound like a lad of great potential, but also as though he'd had a fairly difficult time of it lately, what with all the curses. Jigano could appreciate him needing some time to calm down from that, and wanting some space while he did.

Perhaps after Deepfrost? Until then, please give my regards to your sister when you see her. I look forward to seeing her around the Grounds again come Flowerbirth. Perhaps you both, if the season is kind to us. If they all survived what was coming, be it blizzards or LongNight monstrosities on the prowl.

Still, the dragon did not move, content to let Korbin set the pace - or the departure - and leaving the decision to stay or go in the younger man's hands.

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

He had expected protests. Objections, reproach for his attitude, anger or even hurt. Not this. Not the quiet acceptance he was met with. He was surprised, startled even. Enough that he misstepped and slipped on a patch of ice, forced to a halt unless he wanted to faceplant into the snow. (Hint: he did not want that.)

Gazing back on the dragon, he just stared at it mutely while thoughts whirred in his mind. "Why would you want that? Know me, I mean," he couldn't help but ask, suspicion thick in the voice, for all that he couldn't control the timbre or tone of it as he once used to.

He couldn't see a reason why anyone would want to be around him. Especially not these days, when he was doing his best to keep everyone away. Especially not a stranger. What had people been telling this person to give him the impression Korbin was anything at all?

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

It seemed both of them were having their expectations subverted, for the bard had expected Korbin to keep trudging away, wrapped in his armor of teenage angst against the cold of an uncaring world. He had not expected the young man to turn and look at him again, suspicious but curious, and the dragon tilted his head as he considered how to answer.

It didn't take long. What was more compelling than the truth? His tongue pressed against the gem in his teeth, probing it idly as he tried to focus his thoughts through it as he spoke.

Why wouldn't I? he countered, genuinely curious. You are a native of this land, versed in its history and customs, knowledgeable about its dangers and beauties in a way I will never be, though I certainly intend to try. You are Weaver's brother, a woman who I respect for her willingness to help my colleague rescue her sister from the depths of the Labyrinth, and who has been a good conversation partner as we've worked together on other projects. And, most importantly, you are someone who came to help an Outlander prepare rooms for refugees from a land that isn't your own, volunteering your time and energy to make my people's stay in your land more comfortable and comforting. For that alone I would like to thank you and get to know you better, but with all the rest? I ask you again: why wouldn't I want to get to know you?

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

Korbin turned the response over in his mind, twisting and searching for something to find fault with. Being in the contrary mood that he was, of course he found a few things to chew on.

"You would be the first outsider to actually give a damn about what any of us has to say before charging in to change things," he remarked moodily, "so pardon if I don't take your word for it. I'm not my sister; the only reason I helped with those rooms is to keep your outsiders out of our homes, where they'd have ended up otherwise."

Straightening up, Korbin folded his arms over the chest and gave the dragon a steady look, stubbornly pushing down any trepidations he might still harbor. Jigano's views on him seemed to be decidedly rosy, an illusion he couldn't wait to smash to pieces. Already had, no doubt; there would be none of Weaver's open acceptance to find here. No easy smiles, no free information offered for the sake of talking. Unlike her, he didn't care for change or new things; it just didn't interest him anymore.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

Pardon granted, the dragon said, a tendril of amused resignation in his thoughts. After all, he did have a long and storied history of rushing around and changing things. Just because he was trying to change that now didn't mean he was incapable of backsliding or making mistakes. And no, you aren't your sister, which makes you worth getting to know in your own right.

As Korbin straightened, Jigano sank, relaxing from his seated attention and stretching out more comfortably along the snow - bringing his head down to an easier conversational level for them both, and possibly forming a bit of a windbreak for the young man - though he remained at the distance Korbin had set between them. He teased the gem between his teeth thoughtfully as he considered the last point, then dipped his head in acknowledgment. Not a kindness to my people, then, but still you worked to defend your own. You could have refused to host a refugee in your own home and let your neighbors bear the brunt of hospitality, but you worked to save them from that extra pressure and stress. This was far from the first young person Jigano had met who went fishing for compliments, but he didn't mind giving them. At least it gave him more of a chance to get to know the young man, even if Korbin was only arguing because of being a teenage contrarian.

I ask again, Korbin Hale: why wouldn't I - or anyone - want to get to know you?