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 were more reasons to keep the Arbiter out of Halo. Korbin had told Neron about his sister's underhanded selling of information, but somehow he couldn't quite bring himself to tell Noah about it. Not because he thought the Olson would be surprised about Weaver's flippant approach to secrets, state or private, but... It would raise questions he did not have answers to yet. And possibly it might hamper a very tempting offer to 'question' Sunjata about it in person. Preferably with a heavy boot as persuation.
So Korbin didn't expand on the matter. Didn't have to, as it turned out, because his friend didn't ask questions. Just offered support, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe it was. Maybe it was he who was not natural anymore, when such simple, honest loyalty made his heart burn and ache. Korbin's shoulders sank in relief, tension he hadn't known he held slipping away. For a while, he closed his eyes and merely breathed, sat with the feeling like it was unfamiliar, until he recognized it for what it was. Gratitude. Fondness. Because, damn, if he didn't still like this stubborn pronghorned goat.
The question that followed made him look up again, passing a hand over eyes that were suspiciously damp. "Everyone knows about my house," he replied, acerbic and cutting to hide his embarrassment, the surging emotions - not that it worked but he tried - "but yeah. I've been sleeping up there, for the past few nights."
He pointed up at the dark beams that supported the upper floor, heavy and crisscrossing through the space above their heads. There were many nooks and crannies, more than adequate for a raven to perch. Who needed a bed when he could just tuck the beak under a wing? Not like he got much sleep anyway.
There was a beat of silence as Korbin returned his attention to Noah. For a moment he just watched the man, before drawing in a quiet breath. "Thank you," he said. Nothing more. The simple words were crammed chock full of meaning, until it spilled over and got lost in translation. If they had been shifted, maybe Noah could have sensed all of it.
So Korbin didn't expand on the matter. Didn't have to, as it turned out, because his friend didn't ask questions. Just offered support, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe it was. Maybe it was he who was not natural anymore, when such simple, honest loyalty made his heart burn and ache. Korbin's shoulders sank in relief, tension he hadn't known he held slipping away. For a while, he closed his eyes and merely breathed, sat with the feeling like it was unfamiliar, until he recognized it for what it was. Gratitude. Fondness. Because, damn, if he didn't still like this stubborn pronghorned goat.
The question that followed made him look up again, passing a hand over eyes that were suspiciously damp. "Everyone knows about my house," he replied, acerbic and cutting to hide his embarrassment, the surging emotions - not that it worked but he tried - "but yeah. I've been sleeping up there, for the past few nights."
He pointed up at the dark beams that supported the upper floor, heavy and crisscrossing through the space above their heads. There were many nooks and crannies, more than adequate for a raven to perch. Who needed a bed when he could just tuck the beak under a wing? Not like he got much sleep anyway.
There was a beat of silence as Korbin returned his attention to Noah. For a moment he just watched the man, before drawing in a quiet breath. "Thank you," he said. Nothing more. The simple words were crammed chock full of meaning, until it spilled over and got lost in translation. If they had been shifted, maybe Noah could have sensed all of it.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
