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?
His body was numbed by the herbs, mind half gone even though he was no longer asleep. Or was he? It was a twilight zone where he was aware of the room around him, yet unable to affect what happened. The arms and legs would not cooperate, and the force that propelled him to sit upright soon faded, making him slump back against the wall.
Korbin was vaguely aware of Delphine approaching him. The cool damp cloth against his face was a shock that almost shook the sleep away; he flinched away from it, and again when she put her arms about him. It felt... wrong. Awkward, uncomfortable. Like wearing someone else's coat, or pulling on a shirt still damp after being washed. Korbin wanted to pull away, but the disconnect between mind and body rendered him speechless.
The rocking made him want to scream in frustration. Even more so when the sleep crowded in on him again, a cloying sticky darkness that failed to offer any real rest. It was... humiliating. To be treated like a child when he was not. To be helpless in the hands of someone he didn't like, let alone trust. If he could he would have torn free, left the room, taken back every query for assistance ever made. Told her not to fucking touch him.
But he couldn't move. And the darkness claimed him again, to more restless tossing and churning of black visions.
Korbin was vaguely aware of Delphine approaching him. The cool damp cloth against his face was a shock that almost shook the sleep away; he flinched away from it, and again when she put her arms about him. It felt... wrong. Awkward, uncomfortable. Like wearing someone else's coat, or pulling on a shirt still damp after being washed. Korbin wanted to pull away, but the disconnect between mind and body rendered him speechless.
The rocking made him want to scream in frustration. Even more so when the sleep crowded in on him again, a cloying sticky darkness that failed to offer any real rest. It was... humiliating. To be treated like a child when he was not. To be helpless in the hands of someone he didn't like, let alone trust. If he could he would have torn free, left the room, taken back every query for assistance ever made. Told her not to fucking touch him.
But he couldn't move. And the darkness claimed him again, to more restless tossing and churning of black visions.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
