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?
He was never aware of falling asleep, and was distantly surprised to be waking up. Voices murmured around him, above him, but they were distant things. Korbin was only barely aware enough to acknowledge that he was awake. That he shouldn't be, that it would have served him better to sleep the day away. Maybe then he'd actually get some of the rest he really needed.
Recalling some dream - or was it 'conversation' from last night? - where a soft voice told him to stay, to live, Korbin reluctantly pried open one eye. Regret and resignation came with the words, wistful acceptance echoing in a soul valt that was strangely empty, unusually void of heavy dark... He might have examined this unusual state of mind more closely, but was rudely interrupted by the stab of light into his eyeball, and his wince set off a marching band that thundered through his head with a vengence.
The groan that slipped from the boy was one of boundless suffering, made tolerable only by the knowledge that he had done it to himself.
He smelled food. Blessing and curse wrapped up in one, alluring and foul; it made him ache with hunger even as his throat closed in revulsion. Could he get anything down even if he tried to eat? Would he retain it? Questions he was not quite ready to examine yet.
Like an undead rising from a grave after a week long stay, Korbin slowly pushed himself up to sit. Eyes too swollen to open properly, face a puffy mess and the hair a nest fit for any crow, he looked awful. Felt worse.
"...water?" he croaked, to whomever was sitting nearby. Thought he knew - who else would cheerfully eat next to a dying without shame? - but didn't care to examine it closer just yet.
Recalling some dream - or was it 'conversation' from last night? - where a soft voice told him to stay, to live, Korbin reluctantly pried open one eye. Regret and resignation came with the words, wistful acceptance echoing in a soul valt that was strangely empty, unusually void of heavy dark... He might have examined this unusual state of mind more closely, but was rudely interrupted by the stab of light into his eyeball, and his wince set off a marching band that thundered through his head with a vengence.
The groan that slipped from the boy was one of boundless suffering, made tolerable only by the knowledge that he had done it to himself.
He smelled food. Blessing and curse wrapped up in one, alluring and foul; it made him ache with hunger even as his throat closed in revulsion. Could he get anything down even if he tried to eat? Would he retain it? Questions he was not quite ready to examine yet.
Like an undead rising from a grave after a week long stay, Korbin slowly pushed himself up to sit. Eyes too swollen to open properly, face a puffy mess and the hair a nest fit for any crow, he looked awful. Felt worse.
"...water?" he croaked, to whomever was sitting nearby. Thought he knew - who else would cheerfully eat next to a dying without shame? - but didn't care to examine it closer just yet.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
