CHULANE
The groan that rose up from the pile of blankets and rumpled clothes that was Korbin sent another wave of relief rolling through Chulane. He almost smiled at it, for he had made similar noises when cook had woken him up on her ridiculous schedule, but the grin didn't make it past the concern - and the hunger.
He bit into the bread and sent his mental thanks to the cook for always baking the best bread. Then he came back to reality after daring to spend a moment on himself, hearing the mumbled question ask for water from the now mostly-upright Korbin. He swallowed with a hard gulp, looking to the small desk that had had the broth from last night on it, vaguely recalling a pitcher of water and some cups beside it. They were still there.
"Coming," he murmured softly back, rising to put his plate down and fill the cups, realising rather belatedly that he too was thirsty from a night of shedding tears and exhaustion.
Returning to his chair with a cup of water in each hand, he pressed one into Korbin's hand, before taking a sip from his own as well. He looked over the boy a bit closer now, frowning softly at the swollen face, the pain, both physical and mental, that clearly still afflicted him. But Chulane knew that there was little he could do but give the boy a push in the right direction - the direction that would let him heal, if only he would let enough time pass to allow healing to take place.
As he woke up more himself, he remembered more and more of what went down last night, of the way he had felt when he had forced his words on the boy, when he had dug deep and tried to cut out the mental infection from the boy's very soul.
Would Korbin ever forgive him for it? Would he hold it against him forever? Would he hate him, treat him with scorn or indifference? At least that would be a return to 'normal' for the boy's treatment of Chulane.
He took another sip of water, before grabbing his own plate of food again and taking another bite of bread.
He bit into the bread and sent his mental thanks to the cook for always baking the best bread. Then he came back to reality after daring to spend a moment on himself, hearing the mumbled question ask for water from the now mostly-upright Korbin. He swallowed with a hard gulp, looking to the small desk that had had the broth from last night on it, vaguely recalling a pitcher of water and some cups beside it. They were still there.
"Coming," he murmured softly back, rising to put his plate down and fill the cups, realising rather belatedly that he too was thirsty from a night of shedding tears and exhaustion.
Returning to his chair with a cup of water in each hand, he pressed one into Korbin's hand, before taking a sip from his own as well. He looked over the boy a bit closer now, frowning softly at the swollen face, the pain, both physical and mental, that clearly still afflicted him. But Chulane knew that there was little he could do but give the boy a push in the right direction - the direction that would let him heal, if only he would let enough time pass to allow healing to take place.
As he woke up more himself, he remembered more and more of what went down last night, of the way he had felt when he had forced his words on the boy, when he had dug deep and tried to cut out the mental infection from the boy's very soul.
Would Korbin ever forgive him for it? Would he hold it against him forever? Would he hate him, treat him with scorn or indifference? At least that would be a return to 'normal' for the boy's treatment of Chulane.
He took another sip of water, before grabbing his own plate of food again and taking another bite of bread.
it is better to know some of the questions
than all of the answers
than all of the answers
