KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
There was a pause, then steps came towards the door. It was jerked open, and Korbin fairly glared at the woman. He had discarded his long coat and pulled off the shirt, and stood with bare torso in the doorway. Black ink draped over his shoulders, raven feathers that traced the lineof his arms. Birds flew across his chest too; three ravens circling his heart, gracefully avoiding the scattered scars that littered his body. Knife wounds, small burns- traces of a rough life carved into flesh.
"What part of 'fuck off' do you not understand?" he growled. His gaze flitted over her, to the bottle she held. Searched for the knife, equal parts wary and... hungry?
He was thin. Lean and wiery, still with the gangly buildt of a teenager, though the shoulders were widening and might bulk out quickly with enough food. But it didn't look like he'd had much of that lately. The ribs were jutting and the stomach concave, the skin beneath his eyes bruised and black. The room behind him was as much of a mess, dirty and unkempt, reeking of smoke and sweat and sick.
Safe to say, Korbin did not invite her in.
"What part of 'fuck off' do you not understand?" he growled. His gaze flitted over her, to the bottle she held. Searched for the knife, equal parts wary and... hungry?
He was thin. Lean and wiery, still with the gangly buildt of a teenager, though the shoulders were widening and might bulk out quickly with enough food. But it didn't look like he'd had much of that lately. The ribs were jutting and the stomach concave, the skin beneath his eyes bruised and black. The room behind him was as much of a mess, dirty and unkempt, reeking of smoke and sweat and sick.
Safe to say, Korbin did not invite her in.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
