you had a heart, it's been gone since they left you
Korbin drew in a breath to declare a firm 'yes', but before the world came over his lips, he halted himself. He was a singer, a lyricist. Not quite a bard, but close enough; he knew the power of words well enough. Wasn't that what toppled Neron, in the end? Mutters had been wandering about him for a long time now, unchecked and unchallenged, so that when the disaster struck, none were left to support him. Words had undermined the Hailstorm, long before Zariah struck deals with the Eirachi.
Pursing his lips, he remained quiet. It was the closest to a concession he would come at the moment, but his silence gave Loren right all the same.
That silence held for a long time, as he considered Loren's second response. The jaws of the young man worked as his mind billowed back and forth, stubborn pride and silent thoughts warring against necessity.
"I don't trust easily," he said finally, and sought Loren's gaze, to hold it. His eyes were hard as blue flint... but that steel didn't seem to be directed at the healer. Not really. "I don't make friends easily either. It has taken the people of Snowcloak a lifetime and many kindnesses to my family to hold my loyalty." His gaze fell to the ground at his feet; he was clearly struggling to find the right words.
"That day at the infirmary... when you cuffed me over the head. That's something my father used to do. And my brother. Weaver too. But they're the only ones who ever did. And it... hurt. It felt as though you were trying to take their place. It's the feeling I've gotten ever since the cave."
His first rection to Loren had been the negative attitude towards an Outlander. The second, because he was defeated in a fight - what teenager would not rankle at that? - and what small gains Loren might've earned since were overshadowed by that sense of intrusion into a space that no one could ever fill.
He looked up, to see what Loren would repond, if he would at all.
Pursing his lips, he remained quiet. It was the closest to a concession he would come at the moment, but his silence gave Loren right all the same.
That silence held for a long time, as he considered Loren's second response. The jaws of the young man worked as his mind billowed back and forth, stubborn pride and silent thoughts warring against necessity.
"I don't trust easily," he said finally, and sought Loren's gaze, to hold it. His eyes were hard as blue flint... but that steel didn't seem to be directed at the healer. Not really. "I don't make friends easily either. It has taken the people of Snowcloak a lifetime and many kindnesses to my family to hold my loyalty." His gaze fell to the ground at his feet; he was clearly struggling to find the right words.
"That day at the infirmary... when you cuffed me over the head. That's something my father used to do. And my brother. Weaver too. But they're the only ones who ever did. And it... hurt. It felt as though you were trying to take their place. It's the feeling I've gotten ever since the cave."
His first rection to Loren had been the negative attitude towards an Outlander. The second, because he was defeated in a fight - what teenager would not rankle at that? - and what small gains Loren might've earned since were overshadowed by that sense of intrusion into a space that no one could ever fill.
He looked up, to see what Loren would repond, if he would at all.
- ever feel you grew up too fast?
Korbin
