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?
Korbin frowned but didn't answer. Knew the truth of what Noah said, but still didn't like to hear it. She would have made an excellent Warden. Had been the best, so ready to give everything for her people that she died for them, giving up her own dreams and wishes in the process. Straia would have been proud; it was a sacrifice worthy of a Hale.
"This is Weaver's dream, not mine," he muttered, scowling down into his empty glass. Saying her name hurt, but he forced himself to anyway. "What makes you think I want to be stuck behind a bar for the rest of my life?"
Truth was, Korbin wasn't sure what he wanted. Ever since he talked to Neron and the man pointed out that this actually was his place now, Korbin had been feeling wishywashy about it. On one hand, no, he didn't want to be a bartender and be forced to deal with drunk idiots all day long. But the alternative was to leave it to Sunjata, and that was definitely not going to happen.
Slumping further down into his seat, Korbin dragged a hand over the face, looking haggard and older than his years. Some of the barbs in his mannerism blunted as he heaved a heavy sigh, finally looking away. Unable to stomach the sight of the Kraai like this.
"I don't know what I'm going to do, Noah. Just getting up in the morning is almost more than I can manage right now... I think you're expecting too much."
He was no Weaver. No matter how he tried, Korbin could never adopt her winning, charming, disarming ways. She genuinely cared about everyone who set foot in her bar, at least on a surface level, and he really fucking did not. How could he hope to drive a thriving business revolving around people when those very people made him want to bash his head against a wall?
"This is Weaver's dream, not mine," he muttered, scowling down into his empty glass. Saying her name hurt, but he forced himself to anyway. "What makes you think I want to be stuck behind a bar for the rest of my life?"
Truth was, Korbin wasn't sure what he wanted. Ever since he talked to Neron and the man pointed out that this actually was his place now, Korbin had been feeling wishywashy about it. On one hand, no, he didn't want to be a bartender and be forced to deal with drunk idiots all day long. But the alternative was to leave it to Sunjata, and that was definitely not going to happen.
Slumping further down into his seat, Korbin dragged a hand over the face, looking haggard and older than his years. Some of the barbs in his mannerism blunted as he heaved a heavy sigh, finally looking away. Unable to stomach the sight of the Kraai like this.
"I don't know what I'm going to do, Noah. Just getting up in the morning is almost more than I can manage right now... I think you're expecting too much."
He was no Weaver. No matter how he tried, Korbin could never adopt her winning, charming, disarming ways. She genuinely cared about everyone who set foot in her bar, at least on a surface level, and he really fucking did not. How could he hope to drive a thriving business revolving around people when those very people made him want to bash his head against a wall?
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
