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?
For maybe an hour or two the boy did not move or wake, sleeping like one dead to the world. But gradually, as time wore on, the dreams came slipping back. Disjointed, scattered images full of twisted emotions. Scenes and memories replayed but distorted, until happy recollections turned into nightmares and things that had brought him grief and discomfort suddenly elicited a dark and delirious enjoyment. Every animal ever hunted, every training spar gone wrong, mistakes and damages done replayed but amplified until he seemed to have made them all deliberately.
In his dreams, Korbin slowly grew into the monster he feared, and as his body twisted and misaligned, so too did his soul. And the thing that made him struggle and toss, and eventually claw his way back into wakefullness, was the malice that seemed to awaken and take hold inside him. A cruel and malicious intent, from without and within; it lingered as he sat up, breathing hard. Drenched in sweat and shivering uncontrollably.
The herbs kept him from shaking off the sleep, kept trying to drag him back down into that pit of terror. And what could he do? What could anyone do to help him against his own mind?
In his dreams, Korbin slowly grew into the monster he feared, and as his body twisted and misaligned, so too did his soul. And the thing that made him struggle and toss, and eventually claw his way back into wakefullness, was the malice that seemed to awaken and take hold inside him. A cruel and malicious intent, from without and within; it lingered as he sat up, breathing hard. Drenched in sweat and shivering uncontrollably.
The herbs kept him from shaking off the sleep, kept trying to drag him back down into that pit of terror. And what could he do? What could anyone do to help him against his own mind?
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
