Chulane didn't have a plan. Not for Korbin at least. And barely one for himself. He was just doing the next thing that felt right to do, keeping his mind busy, lest he turn into… something like the husk of a boy who stood before him now. The raven-boy declined, stepping out of the space where Chulane held the wood to him, and the farmer knew that he could go a few different directions from here.
He could try to force the point, to make the boy do it - but Chuy had never been the confrontational sort, or at least, never been one to press something upon an unwilling participant. He could try to reason with the boy, to explain how it didn't really mean anything, how the grief he carried was a shared load, and together they could get through it - but he could guess at how well that approach might go down.
So the farmer simply sighed, his breath dancing before his lips in a chilled plume of fog. "Fine," he shrugged, pulling the wood back closer to himself and proceeding onwards with the task, stacking each bit with a practiced efficiency.
The world was going to keeping turning, keep churning, the sun rising and falling, whether or not Korbin wanted it to. It was going to get on with it, and though it sucked that Weaver was gone, one day Korbin would get on with it too. It wasn't going to be easy - grief was different for everyone, and for some it took years to process completely - he also didn't have to do it alone.
"It's normal to feel the way you do," he said quietly instead, his voice breathy as he picked up another piece and stacked it, his eyes glancing over to Korbin.
He could try to force the point, to make the boy do it - but Chuy had never been the confrontational sort, or at least, never been one to press something upon an unwilling participant. He could try to reason with the boy, to explain how it didn't really mean anything, how the grief he carried was a shared load, and together they could get through it - but he could guess at how well that approach might go down.
So the farmer simply sighed, his breath dancing before his lips in a chilled plume of fog. "Fine," he shrugged, pulling the wood back closer to himself and proceeding onwards with the task, stacking each bit with a practiced efficiency.
The world was going to keeping turning, keep churning, the sun rising and falling, whether or not Korbin wanted it to. It was going to get on with it, and though it sucked that Weaver was gone, one day Korbin would get on with it too. It wasn't going to be easy - grief was different for everyone, and for some it took years to process completely - he also didn't have to do it alone.
"It's normal to feel the way you do," he said quietly instead, his voice breathy as he picked up another piece and stacked it, his eyes glancing over to Korbin.
chulane
