closer than a friend, I can be your enemy

Golden ale frothed and foamed as it was poured from the barrel, and the sound was mouth watering. But Korbin only filled up halfway, and the old hunter across the table stared into the mug in disbelief.
"This it? This all I'm gettin?"
"That's all anyone's getting," Korbin cut back curtly. "Unless you wanna go without before the week is over, you'll take what I give and you'll be fucking grateful."
The man's face reddened ominously, but his companions took him by the arms and dragged him off. Their mugs were just as lacking in content; somehow it did not quite penetrate into their thick heads that there might be a shortage of booze.

Gods knew Korbin was out of patience. The room was crowded, over hot from blazing fires and too many people, and his own share of the drink was gone a long time ago, to little effect. His patience was fraying at the edges, effectively a wolf trapped in a cage - even more so now that he was stuck behind this 'bar' - and not for the first time did he consider just giving up the whole venture.
But he couldn't. Not after what he'd said to Chulane about running away. His temper had been foul ever since their argument, cut by his own words and the way the other man had just caved under pressure. Would he really quit the council? If he did, would it be Korbin's fault? Did he care? Enough to stew over it, apparently.

In the end, what bothered him most was the sheer weakness of the man's will. For a half-grown brat (yes, he was talking about himself) to be able to beat him down to that extent was unbelievable, and it somehow left Korbin feeling betrayed. He'd thought Chulane was stronger than that. More determined. Gods, it was disappointing.

Not so quietly seething, the raven gritted his teeth against the urge to snarl at anyone who came close, kept pouring drinks and remained largely quiet. Few seemed inclined to strike up conversation, and it was just as disappointing when none persisted.
What he wouldn't do for someone to start a fight. Blowing off steam would be glorious right about now.

In loving memory of when I gave a shit

KORBIN
HALE

shed every skin that doesn't fit even if they call you cold-blooded

unhinge your jaw —

He’s really not the only one that’s struggling with a shift in emotions. First of all, everything that happened before had lead her to keeping her distance, of pointedly not getting involved. To try and give him the space he required to deal with his loss. But the boy kept fucking popping up, in conversation, in passing, in the fact that he kept continuing to make Chulane question everything he wanted to help with for Halo.

And let’s not forget the attack as well, the way Korbin had given him a concussion, spurring a deep sense of panic within Kiada. But she’d managed to hold onto her anger, her fury, to let it simmer beneath the surface for long enough that the idea of being stuck in here with him for a long dark week seemed like the perfect opportunity to take out some of that rage. So long as it was far enough away to not damage everyone and anything else.

So she slips into line for booze she won’t drink, her iceberg gaze narrow as it lands on Korbin next. “Got a moment to chat?” She asks, but her voice seems to hold no room for arguments, not as she nods to someone else to take over for the raven and she slips out of the line, the other Halovian following Korbin’s previous work of rationing the ale.

— go for the throat

KIADA

Kiada was and was not a welcome sight. She had been blessedly absent since the disaster of their last parting, and Korbin had made sure to keep his distance. Having her appear before him now brought up a lot of memories, mostly unpleasant... but the look on her face promised just the kind of outlet he had been looking for.

"For you, anytime," he replied, with a bite of irony in his tone. Like he had a fucking choice.

The young man nodded assent when the Halovian Kiada so curtly ordered in to take his place shot him a look for confirmation - it was still his bar, no matter how stingy the rations or temporary the location and they all damn well knew it. Slipping out from behind the table, he jerked his chin for her to follow, and headed off for the Academy's indoor training hall. It was deserted at the moment, so they would have the room for themselves. All that privacy... and Korbin thought he had a good idea of what she wanted.

"Now, what might be weighing on your mind?" he said as he turned to face her, hands casually tucked away into pockets. It could have been a casual pose, but the tilt odf Korbin's jaw made it entirely arrogant, a storm rolling up in the direct gaze he leveled at her.

In loving memory of when I gave a shit

KORBIN
HALE

shed every skin that doesn't fit even if they call you cold-blooded

unhinge your jaw —

“Good.” She replies chipperly, though it’s nothing more than the typical mask she wears, slipping out of line and letting the other person take over — ignoring everything else that happens between Korbin and the other man. And soon enough she finds herself in the training ring, muscles tensing and preparing to go on the offensive. Especially after that comment.

So he turns as she follows him in, her gaze never quite leaving the raven, muscles still tensing ever so slightly as she flashes him a saccharine grin. “Oh, Korbin, I figured you’d know by now.” She says with all the playfulness of before, the lilting of her voice reaching him before she’s approaching him, encroaching on his space.

Canines are extended now within the smile, feathers ruffling about her neck as if she can’t decide which form to use on him. So she settles for herself at first, fist bunching up and pulling back her arm to swing at his cheek. “What the fuck is your problem?” She asks as she lets it fly.

She’s prepared to hear the Weaver story again, but every ounce of her could absolutely care less in this moment.

— go for the throat

KIADA

Saccarine smiles and golden barbs, followed by a fist to the face. If she hadn't been taken and he hadn't been a messed up wreck, Korbin might have fallen in love then and there. He didn't even try to dodge. Her small hand connected to the side of his face with a solid impact, sharp enough to split his lip. Staggering slightly with his head ringing, Korbin wiped a bead of blood off his mouth and regarded it, jaw working, clenching and unclenching his teeth. It hurt, and did nothing to calm him.

Maybe she should have hit harder.  

"Good question," he replied, eerily quiet despite the flashing anger in his eyes. "Why don't you answer it for me? So far you've been very confident in your assessments of my life and character. Give it a shot, please. I insist."

Somehow he managed to look mildly interested as he waited, quite sure the woman was more interested in unleashing her own pent up frustration than actually listening to his story. He didn't try to explain anything. What was the point?

In loving memory of when I gave a shit

KORBIN
HALE

shed every skin that doesn't fit even if they call you cold-blooded

unhinge your jaw —

The fist connects, and already she can feel the air between her joints popping with the force of it. But then she’s withdrawing, pulling into her defensive stance, lips curling into a slight sneer as he doesn’t even try to block it — watching instead as he staggers a small amount and she realizes she’s drawn blood.

Good, he deserves it.

Her gaze narrows on him as he draws quiet, inspecting the blood as if perhaps she’d not done a good enough job — but that’s fine. There’s certainly more where that came from. But his question doesn’t help alleviate her frustrations, in fact she can see the way it ignites more within her. “No.” She snaps at him.

“I want you to tell me.” She could do this all day, settled there in wait, the feathers ruffling against her skin, teeth sharp as she glares back at Korbin. “Start talking.” Her fists are still raised, waiting for him to try and strike or for her to unleash herself again.

— go for the throat

KIADA

No games, eh? Fine. That was perfectly fine. Korbin flicked the blood from his finger and straightened up, hands coming out of the pockets as he started to tick items off like it was a shopping list.

"My problem is, Kiada, that I have watched my family die before my eyes, one after another for the past ten years. Mom disappeared and never came back, dad rotted before our eyes in an illness no magic could cure, my brother was mauled to death by an ursur right outside the Citadel and I burned his body without knowing if my sister would be following the next day. Turns out she made it, at least for another three years or so, but now she is gone too and there is nothing left."

His tone was quiet, almost conversational, but there was a vicious bite to the words, like teath meant to gnash and cut. They did too; Korbin hurt himself with every word, and only the rage boiling within him kept the voice from wavering as he spoke of his loved ones.

"My life has been turned upside down by outsiders and their meddling. I've been cursed, attacked, forced to kill a man and every step of the way there have been strangers flinging themselves at me, trying to interfere in my life when all I want is to be left alone."

That's all he ever wanted. Peace and quiet and time to himself, to sort his own life out.

"But none of you ever listen when I say no. You barge into my life, take one look at me, judge me based on one interaction and decide that I'm something that I'm not, and then you have the fucking gall to be disappointed when it turns out I'm not living up to your damned expectations!"

Loren, Chulane, Amon, Kiada, Noah's whatsername girlfriend, they were all doing it.

"You're all the same, you outlanders. Meddling, disrespectful and naive, who judge without trying to see, and demand trust and favor when you've earned nothing. You think that just because you're here you're somehow entitled to be treated like you belong, but you don't. You're a disruption in the natural order of the world, a plague from The Voice, and you will bring this world to ruin just as surely as she will.

"And if that's not enough of a problem, then I don't know what the fuck is."

Finally run out of words, Korbin was left out of breath, chest heaving. His lips twitched around bared teeth, something wild and furious snapping and snarling within him, longing to break out but unable to.

In loving memory of when I gave a shit

KORBIN
HALE

shed every skin that doesn't fit even if they call you cold-blooded

unhinge your jaw —

She remains in her defensive stance as he begins to tick off items, hearing them and yet… Not, not really. Because there were some naturals that had enjoyed the Outlanders for what they could bring, the fact that Korbin was so involved in his self sob story to not see any of the light out of it wasn’t her problem. What is her problem is the way he keeps using outsider as a term aimed to barb. It doesn’t, not in the way he thinks it should. Because it’s not her fault she’s arrived here. It’s not like she sat at the edge of the Rift and begged to be sent here. She just simply showed up, lost everything in the process, and found something new.

So all she can do is step back, lower her fists and stare equally hard and cold at Korbin as she goes to take on his points. “Again, I hate to break it to you Korbin. The world doesn’t revolve around you. You’re not the only one that’s lost anyone. Did you know? That my first LongNight here the monsters of the Grounds killed my fiancé? Did you know that Ludo tasked me the following year to kill him again to get his soul back?” She snaps equally as cold and harsh.

“I have done none of those things you lump me in with. I never wanted to change anything. I am here so the grounders don’t have to lose anymore of their families.” She hisses, throwing up her hands in a bit of an exasperated tone as a chime of a laugh leaves her in disbelief. “When I met you I asked you about the creatures here. To learn about them. I never asked for you to change shit.”

“And lastly? Lastly if you want to take it out on the person that made it happen go fucking talk to the Voice like the big badass you’re trying to be.” She edges closer to him, getting in his space, peering up at him as she bares fanged teeth back at him. “And maybe? Just maybe… Get the fuck over yourself.”

— go for the throat

KIADA

Just as his words did not wound her, Korbin was unphased by Kiada's retort. He held his arms out, palm up, in a gesture of helpless frustration.

"Too bad for you! I'm sure it sucks, but I still don't give a single solitary fuck about you."

It was just impossible to get these people to listen.

"If I had approached any one of you for your care, or your opinions, or advice on my life, I might have been happy to listen. But I did not. I have asked you all to leave me alone. You, Loren, Chulane... But you don't take no for an answer, do you? I've made it abundantly clear that I want nothing to do with any of you, yet you keep pushing yourself onto me.

"If what I think and what I say bother you so much, then for fucks sake, stop listening! Get out of my face, stop trying to make me be your friends or accept you or whatever the fuck it is you want. It won't work."

Wasn't that why they were here? Why she was here? He spoke his mind and Chulane didn't like it, and now his girlfriend was here to kick his ass. Perfect. Brilliant. A perfect display of 'dog doesn't wag its tail, so dog gets kicked'.

Korbin shook his head at her and laughed, hard and cold and bitter. Gods, he was tired. So fucking tired. Whatever it was they wanted from him, they wouldn't get it. He had nothing to give to anyone. Not care, not empathy, no benefit of the doubt. Certainly not trust.  

"You think I'm being an egoistical ass? Well, you're right. Because as far as I'm concerned, I'm the only person left in my life that matters now that Weaver isn't here anymore. And since you and your boyfriend so kindly saw fit to keep me alive, you'll just have to deal. Too bad you didn't look to see who you were rescuing before you stopped me from following that dragon. I've always been an asshole, but you didn't even bother to find that out, now did you."

There was a bitter kind of satisfaction in that. Everything that was brought upon these people were done so by themselves. He was only being who he'd always been, and they threw themselves right in his path, ready to be trodden into the snow. It's almost like they didn't believe him when he said he didn't care.

In loving memory of when I gave a shit

KORBIN
HALE

shed every skin that doesn't fit even if they call you cold-blooded

unhinge your jaw —

He loves to hear himself talk, it sounds like to her. And it is evident as everything else that he doesn’t want to listen, to understand, the point of going and talking to the Voice completely missed. So fine, let her be the monster he portrays her, of stealing away lives and dreams, of ruining everything for everyone else.

She absolutely could ruin him if she wanted to.

And she teeters on the fact of that while she half listens to him speak, a smirk curving the corners of her lips up. “Oh is that so? How do your fellow Halovian’s like you if all you’re running into are us outsiders?” She questions, pushing herself closer to where she may or may not brush up against him with a sharp breath. “And if that’s the case, and you know you’re your own worst enemy, then go for it. Nobody cares, you’re right.” She snaps, creating some distance between them to pull her arm back and fly another fist toward him, this time applying a bit more precision and weight behind it.

That deep part of her that cries for blood lust and vengeance sings, and she lets it free.

— go for the throat

KIADA

Korbin scoffed, half amused, half disgusted that she was so eager to push him down further when he was already under. He could see what she was trying to do, make him doubt the community he grew up in. Well, she would have to work a bit harder on that too.

"Oh, they've tried. A few of them. Unlike you, they know how to take a hint and stay away when they're not wanted - or needed."

Her fist came flying again, and Korbin actually tried to dodge her this time. But he wasn't fast enough, and her knuckles hit his jaw again, hard enough to make him stagger. Pain flared like lightning through his mouth and head, and it took a bit before he regained his balance. But Korbin was tough, and big, and he straighened up again. Met her gaze again, with fists clenched.

He didn't try to strike back though. Morgan's ultimatum weighed too heavily on his mind, and he didn't want to risk that punishment. Not even to defend himself in a fight someone else had clearly started.

"Then why are you here, Kiada? Did I piss you off? Is it painful to have your illusions crushed? Not everyone's going to like you. Not everyone's going to raise their hands to the sky and praise you as saviors as soon as you spit out some clever idea. I'm definitely not going to lie and say I'm grateful for being 'saved', when I'm not! Is my honesty too hard for you to swallow?"

His grin was vicious, teeth stained red as he kept goading her. Man, it was strangely satisfying to be slapped around. Why was it that he felt more in control now than he ever had while besting his sister in a spar? That only happened once, and it hadn't ended well... but here, now, when he chose not to retaliate... ah, it sent shivers down the spine.

Who was really out of control this time, bitch!?

In loving memory of when I gave a shit

KORBIN
HALE

shed every skin that doesn't fit even if they call you cold-blooded

unhinge your jaw —

“Cute.” She retorts in a slight hiss, letting her fist fly and feeling as it connects and ricochets down her arm. And she’s stepping away again, waiting for the retaliation. But there’s none, only in the form of barbed words that have her caring less. It was far less fun if he wasn’t going to reciprocate, if he was simply there to just take it. What was the point then? Her own satisfaction?

She was getting a little bit of that out of this.

“C’mon Korbin.” She begins, panting a small amount. “I literally don’t care what people think about me. And honestly? I don’t care that I ‘saved you’, that I broke your ribs. I did that for the people around you.” Her shoulders raise a small amount before they drop again and her gaze narrows on him. “Stop putting words in my mouth. Stop being a narcissistic prick that pretends like all I ever think about is you. It’s not.” Her chin lifts as if she’s sizing him up. “And no, I never asked for a thank you. I don’t want it. I’m here because you’re a danger to those I care about.” She snaps, shifting in her posture a bit.

“You were better when you were deaf and your sister held your leash.”

— go for the throat

KIADA

If she wanted satisfaction, he was all hers. He'd been able to give that to her in the past, after all, so if she got anything out of this, hurray. It wouldn't be because Korbin gave it though. Not this time.

"You think I blame you for a few broken ribs? Please. Weaver's carved chunks out of me with her daggers since I was old enough to spar, I'm used to being kicked around." He sounded a bit wistful as he said it, and took a step closer. A challenge, a dare - an invitation?

"I actually wasn't talking about you alone, this time. Did Chulane tell you about what he did? Far more intrusive than knocking me out of the sky, I think. You did not lock me in a room against my will when I was too drunk to stand straight, or stand over me with demands to 'talk about Weaver. Talk, talk, go on, tell me, go on and break, tell me everything about your dead sister and how you will never see her again.'."

Kobin had been a storyteller, once upon a time. A musician, a bard in the making. His voice skillfully distorted and took on Chulane's accent, his color of voice, mimicked the tone and volume the man had used that night. Loud and demanding, unyielding, exerting incredible pressure. With every word Korbin took a step closer to Kiada until he loomed tall and ominous over her.

Just like Chulane had done to him, curled up on a bed and out of his mind with grief and drink. Begging him to stop. To go away.

But no one ever fucking listened, did they?

"Your 'loved one' would be perfectly fine if he stopped stalking people. I'm under no obligation to be nice, or polite, or to include him. I never denied any of you the chance to live in Halo or do what is good for the region, I just very much doubt that an outsider who has lived here for all of one season could even know what is good."

In loving memory of when I gave a shit

KORBIN
HALE

shed every skin that doesn't fit even if they call you cold-blooded

unhinge your jaw —

He steps closer and she glares at him, stares at him with the intensity of the predators that simmer beneath her skin. Her lips feather a small amount as she shakes her head, keeping her ground as he comes closer however little he does. Her fists remain tight at her side, but she doesn’t lift them to him again. After all, it’s not any fun unless he’s fighting back. So she listens instead, because that’s what she can do, though it doesn’t help her from rolling her eyes. “Did you consider that he feels bad about that, too?” She hisses.

“No, no you didn’t. Because it fits into the perfect narrative for you. ‘Woe is me’. Poor Korbin.” She lifts her chin again to stare at him as he tries to get under her skin, copying Chulane’s accent as if it might stir something within her. But she’s not afraid, she’s stared at demons and monsters nearly all of her life, some of them dwelled within her too, mirrored in the reflection that stared back at her. And so she does exactly what she’s done every other time. She holds her ground.

“The fact that you think he’s stalking you is exactly what your problem is.” She flexes her hands a bit before curling them into a fist again. “He is trying to make an attempt, with plenty of Naturals that he’s working with. Why do you think you have any right over what they think? Because you’ve been hurt more than everyone else? Again. Get the fuck over yourself.”

— go for the throat

KIADA