Lonely shadows following me
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
Lonely ghosts come a-calling
Korbin had eaten worse than the biscuits. Frequently, especially as a raven. Compared to the aftertaste of carrion, this was banquet fare. A bit dry, sure, but if he had been of a mind, Korbin would have downed it all the same. Now, he kept turning the morsel between his fingers, aching as much from the cold as from the heavy emotions that plagued him. It was not the taste that kept him from eating.
When Chuy chucked his own piece, the boy frowned slightly, Korbin's disapproval of the waste as reflexive as breathing. The people of Halo might still be forced to go hungry before the season was over, and this man threw away food?
He shook his head, and pocketed the nibbled biscuit. Would give it to the messenger ravens later. When Chulane put away the wheelbarrow, Korbin hesitated for a bit. Watched the man's back, weighing his options. Part of him wanted to follow, pining for even a fraction of the warmth and comfort he and Weaver had shared. But it would not be the same. And this person could never fill the void she had left behind. Only remind him more of what was missing. Who wasn't there. What he could never have again.
So the boy shook his head and turned in the other direction, shoulders slumped in the too-big coat. "No," he simply said, just like before. Scolding himself for the loneliness, for the weak impulses to give in - he already knew it wouldn't end well - Korbin walked off. To find a fire, or a quiet place, or maybe back to the old tavern where foul drinks could numb the pain for a while.
It really didn't matter.
When Chuy chucked his own piece, the boy frowned slightly, Korbin's disapproval of the waste as reflexive as breathing. The people of Halo might still be forced to go hungry before the season was over, and this man threw away food?
He shook his head, and pocketed the nibbled biscuit. Would give it to the messenger ravens later. When Chulane put away the wheelbarrow, Korbin hesitated for a bit. Watched the man's back, weighing his options. Part of him wanted to follow, pining for even a fraction of the warmth and comfort he and Weaver had shared. But it would not be the same. And this person could never fill the void she had left behind. Only remind him more of what was missing. Who wasn't there. What he could never have again.
So the boy shook his head and turned in the other direction, shoulders slumped in the too-big coat. "No," he simply said, just like before. Scolding himself for the loneliness, for the weak impulses to give in - he already knew it wouldn't end well - Korbin walked off. To find a fire, or a quiet place, or maybe back to the old tavern where foul drinks could numb the pain for a while.
It really didn't matter.
Thousand voices dead at my feet
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
