KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
The sound of the blow should have echoed in the room, reverberated through his head like a whip lash. But it did not. The pain that bloomed in his cheek and the way his head was jerked aside was the only thing he got, and somehow it seemed so very lacking without the sound. Like it somehow dulled the whole experience.
But at least it caught his attention. He looked up, if slowly, and the way he took the paper with her question was a bit off. As if his fingers had gone numb. Staring at the words, he couldn't quite piece them together into anything that made sense. What was going on?
"I... I don't... know," he croaked. Searched for something more to add, some explanation, but he found none.
When had he slipped? At what point had he lost control, started to take this seriously? Korbin couldn't remember. Couldn't recall when his sister's face had turned into the cannibal, when the game became real, when reality slipped off into something else.
And it scared the shit out of him.
But at least it caught his attention. He looked up, if slowly, and the way he took the paper with her question was a bit off. As if his fingers had gone numb. Staring at the words, he couldn't quite piece them together into anything that made sense. What was going on?
"I... I don't... know," he croaked. Searched for something more to add, some explanation, but he found none.
When had he slipped? At what point had he lost control, started to take this seriously? Korbin couldn't remember. Couldn't recall when his sister's face had turned into the cannibal, when the game became real, when reality slipped off into something else.
And it scared the shit out of him.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
