Silverland

KORBIN

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

The dragon settled in as if for a long stay, and Korbin regretted giving in to the curiosity that kept him talking. This was not going at all the way he had expected, and every response Jigano came with made him shift uncertainly, his reasons picked apart - the ones he managed to convey out loud at least.

"You're twisting things around," he accused, "and painting up a picture that's not true. I don't do anything for anyone but myself, dragon, and there's your reason. I'm not kind or helpful, I'm not caring or considerate. You won't get anything out of knowing me."

And if the man thought Korbin was fishing for compliments, well... it was rather the opposite, really. It would be great if they could all just agree that he was not worth being around; then they could go their separate ways and never bother the other again.

Korbin felt that it was important to get that across now, or the guy would no doubt be back in Flowerbirth and they'd have to go through this all again.

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

The dragon-bard blinked calmly at Korbin, though the accusation that he was twisting things made him want to sigh. It seemed the young man was determined to paint himself as the villain for some reason, in spite of the warm opinion others had of him, and Jigano couldn't quite grasp why. Still, at least he didn't leave just yet, so perhaps all was not lost, and the only way to get answers to his questions...

Was to ask.

Why are you so determined to make yourself a villain? he asked, careful to keep his tone neutrally curious rather than gentling it the way he would have preferred. What harm, in helping others? Or being known for helping others? His tail swept the snow behind him in slow, idle arcs as he focused his words through the gem, glad that Korbin could hear him but wondering if they were really listening to each other.

KORBIN

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

Oh, there were reasons. Soul deep, heartfelt reasons that fairly thrummed within the young man. But they were intimately linked to his personal history, his private emotions, and not something he wanted to talk about with a complete stranger. Or at all, really.

"It seems to be the only way to get people to leave me alone," he replied tersely. "I don't have anything to give anyone, and I'm tired of curious people meddling in my life, trying to fix things that aren't broken. Your healer friend is especially guilty of that - 'no' just didn't seem to register with him."

Hence this snapping and snarling - that had finally driven the point home with Loren, and it seemed the fastest way with everyone else too.

Except this person. He was uncannily calm even now, and it made Korbin feel unsure about the whole tactic.

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

Ahhh, came the pulse of understanding as Loren's name came up, and Jigano ruefully remembered his friend's warning about mention his name to the young man. It appeared there was a bit of history there, and one he'd ask the healer about later, if they all survived the season ahead.

Do you not even have advice to offer? the dragon asked hopefully, considering his recent conversation with Weaver. He rustled his wings, shifting them to settle them more comfortably against his sides to help keep his heat in. The conversation might not last much longer due to the cold, but there was no reason to be uncomfortable while it continued. The young man hardly seemed 'broken' to him, just struggling with adolescence, a condition that could only be treated with time. Also, given how he and I met, he should know better than to push unwanted help on others, the dragon chuckled, amused. He was a lot like you, back then. And sometimes still was.

KORBIN

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

Whether his point actually went home or not was difficult to say. Jigano stopped pressing the issue at least, and it was enough that Korbin's shoulders came down a bit, the growing tension - like a porcupine puffing up its quills - easing a fraction. Or at least not growing further, which was almost the same thing in this case.

"Advice on what?" he asked, warily. "I'd say he didn't learn his own lesson very well, then. Or maybe he thinks he's less annoying than you were." A barb, a quip aimed at the dragon with some precision - but it was without any real bite, more a testing of the waters. To see if there was any return, or if his type of humor was lost on this person too, as it apparently was on Loren.

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

Advice on where to find a good lutier, the dragon puffed a cool breath through his nostrils that turned to steam in the frigid Leafchange air. I lost my mandolin coming through that portal two years ago, and there wasn't an instrument-maker in the Grounds skilled enough to replace it. Weaver said you might know someone, or know someone who does.

The barb sank home and Jigano snorted, blowing a puff of loose snow towards the young man in dry amusement. Maybe I shouldn't have told you I was Attuned, he mused. I seemed to get more respect when you thought I was going to eat you. He couldn't arch a brow at the teenager, but there was a low rumbling sound in his chest and throat that might have been a chuckle. Keep him on his toes, Korbin Hale, but don't take him for granted. A good Healer is hard to find, and well worth a little annoyance to have around. He paused thoughtfully considering Loren's mood changes with fond exasperation. Or even a lot of annoyance.

KORBIN

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

Was it just the light, a trick of the falling snow, or was that really a smile ghosting over the young man's lips? "What respect should be spared for busybodies? Sticking noses in where they don't belong is hardly an admirable trait."

Whatever amusement he felt was short lived, however. The point about healers dragged up memories he'd rather not recall. Of firelight dancing over the face of a sister lying on a sickbed, barely breathing as she hovered between life and death. Another fire, licking crimson tongues at the sky as the body of a brother was consigned to the final rest; he'd been standing alone that day. Listening to condolences, hearing them whisper that they should start preparing for the next pyre; surely the girl wouldn't survive, not with wounds like that.

If Loren had been around back then, would his brother still be alive? Would Weaver have been able to attend the burning even if he wasn't? Did it even matter that the man was here now when it was too late?

Korbin's expression hardened. "He can do whatever he wants as long as he does it away from me. I'm not obliged to be his friend or let him into my life. But apparently he thinks he's entitled to both, and that leaves us at a bit of an impasse." None of this was strictly speaking Jigano's business, but the dragon - or rather the man behind the impassive reptilian face - rather invited to share confidences. It was annoying and alarming once Korbin realized that he was letting his tongue run too freely, and like a Torchline clam he closed himself off again, retreating back into his shell.

"The person who made my lute is dead," he said, more reticent now. "I don't know if anyone else as the skills to do it well." He paused, chewed on whether to say more... but Weaver knew her brother well. He was quite incapable of leaving someone hanging when he could help. Especially when it didn't cost him anything. "There's a young crafter in Snowcloak. Glas Westfall. He is repairing my lute... possibly he knows how to make a new one. I could look it up, place an order for you If that's the case."

Not sure why he offered, it was too late to take back now. The raven clamped his mouth shut, as if to stop himself from spilling anything else.

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

Not admirable? The dragon raised his head, eyes widening in shock as he placed a foreclaw to his chest. Are you saying I've been going about this wrong the whole time? Theatrics were as ingrained in the bard as poetry, music, and breathing, and if Korbin didn't like it...

Well, at least there was no rotten fruit around for him to throw.

He didn't know what passed through the young man's head to turn the faint glimmer of humor back to brooding surliness, but as the teen's expression turned hard again the dragon ceased his teasing, growing solemn once more as he cocked his head at the unexpected outpouring of genuine emotion. I... suppose it does. A sigh sent the flurries swirling as he settled down again, dropping his head to rest in the snow and looking up at Korbin from opalescent blue eyes. Perhaps once the blizzards we were warned of come it will keep him locked within the Palace? And give Korbin a bit of respite from all the well-meaning busybodies in his life.

Dragons included.

As for his question? Death, and the dragon's scaled expression somehow took on a mournful cast. Just as all hope seemed lost, however, a name was given and he almost swallowed the small gem in his excitement. I would appreciate if you could ask him, he agreed eagerly. Thank you, Korbin Hale. It would be a welcome thing to have in Flowerbirth when the snows lessen again. He hummed thoughtfully, an oddly musical sound from such a large beast. Is there a favor I can do you in return?

KORBIN

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

There was a tug of reluctant amusement at the reaction, the exaggerated shock, and he was tempted to respond. Tempted but... he didn't. Just shrugged, and brushed snow off the shoulders before it could soak through his clothes.

He somehow doubted that even the blizzards would keep the Healer locked inside. The man seemed strangely immune to the cold - some magic or other, no doubt - and with no shortage of abilities. Korbin doubted he'd be able to avoid the man. Especially as they worked in the same place. If only they could keep the distance... He sighed, expression doubtful.

The exuberant gratitude made the young man uncomfortable. He shook his head as if to shrug off the thanks. "Not unless you know how to lift curses without bribing a god, no." He was not keen on the idea of going back to the shrine again. He had an ominous feeling about it, like the third time might be somehow fated or... well it was ridiculous, but there were things worse than deafness and hiccups.

But all the same... Korbin missed hearing peoples voices. Hearing his sister laugh... even nag at him.

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

Not even a crack in that granite facade, eh? Well, he'd tried, and Jigano subsided again, letting his forepaw drop back to the snow so that he lay stretched out in a sinuous sphinx-pose, loose-limbed and comfortable in the snow. Not even the bard's more sincere optimism seemed to make a dent, if Korbin's mournful sigh was anything to go by.

And the lad wasn't wrong. Loren was as stubborn a busybody as Jigano, and unlikely to let a mere killing blizzard stop him.

At least the offer of help was welcome, but the service he asked in return had the dragon's head drooping in regret as he shook his horned skull in negation. I'm afraid not, he admitted. How long have you been cursed for? Is there any signs of it abating?

KORBIN

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

In another part of time, Korbin would have been delighted to meet a man like Jigano. A real bard, a shape shifter of extraordinary power, well traveled and wise, and interested in getting to know him, of all people! It would have been something plucked from a story, and the mischievous raven boy would have traded anything to exchange a few more words with him.

Now, he stood there in the falling snow and felt the cold slowly eat its way into the marrow, contemplating ways to get out of this conversation before he froze into a statue. When did he stop being curious about the world, about people and the many marvels that waited out there in the wide world beyond the Fangs? Had it died with his brother? Vad it left one day along with his mother, never to returned? Had it rotted and wilted along with his father's body, drowned in blood, pus and vomit, until not even the memory remained of what it had been like?

It seemed fitting, somehow, that he would be cursed. Only a shadow of who he used to be, it made sense that the gods wouldn't want to look at him.

"It's been half a season now," he said in a hollow tone. Like some essential part had been carved out when the curse was laid on him. "No change. I hear nothing. Not even my own heartbeat."

Empty. Lost in a void, a world without sound... A tragedy, when sound had been what made his life tolerable.

The hiccups that quietly wrecked his body was a trifle in comparison.

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

The dragon watched Korbin think, hearing the dull tone of his voice and rumbling discontent at how long the curse had stretched on for. He paused a moment, then dropped his register, the quiet rumble thrumming from deep within his powerful chest, watching Korbin closely to see if the boy could feel it vibrating in his bones, even if he couldn't hear it.

I may not know how to lift a curse now, but if it's still around when the passes open again in Flowerbirth I'll see if I can find some tome or scrap of knowledge that may help.

He rose finally, shaking the snow from his wings and limbs as he stretched. But I have kept you standing around in the cold far longer than you wanted to be. My apologies, Korbin. And my thanks, for staying to speak with me and being willing to approach the lutier on my behalf. Warm fires and quiet nights to you and your sister. I hope to see you both again in a season's time.

KORBIN

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

Korbin felt it, but not knowing where the sensation came from he looked around, wariness falling back over his posture again. A rumble without sound was just uncomfortable, like a tingle of dread up the spine... He shifted uneasily.

Then the dragon rose, with some words offered in parting, and the youngest Hale sibling nodded in what could almost pass for a polite response. "If it's still a problem come Flowerbirth... I might take you up on it," he replied, a bit reluctantly. By then, he'd probably be desperate enough to ask anyone for help.

"Stay warm," was the only thing he offered back; terse and to the point. But that was the way of all Halovians, and it was the best kind of well wish he could think of.

When there was no more talking to do, Korbin shimmered and shifted. Dark raven wings carried him away, the sound of each beat like the rustle of silk in the quiet day. The wind picked up, the snow flurried... and then he was gone.

---------

- FIN

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