CHULANE
What was the point, indeed?
I asked myself that a few times, as we walked in silence towards the tavern, doing my best to simply exist and ignore the awkwardness of spending time with someone who clearly wants nothing to do with me.
I decided that perhaps it was time I found out why. Why did he despise me so, treat me so poorly? Was it just me, or the rest of the world as well? I wondered at what had happened to him to cause him to behave this way, and I could only think that it was some great tragedy - though I knew, for a teenager, almost anything could be considered a great tragedy.
And so we arrived at the tavern, and I pre-paid our bill by fetching firewood from the stack they had outside, moving it to a more convenient spot by the fireplace. I let Korbin order whatever meal he so desired, placing a request for roast Ningo and vegetables for myself, before settling at our spot.
I do not bother with verbal communication, or shifting so that I might send the boy my thoughts (the prospect of sending through my emotions was still quite confronting to me, however well I managed to control it before). I had gotten into the habit of keeping paper and charcoal pencil on me, to take notes on interesting things I learned in my wanderings of this place, so I fetched it from a pocket (along with another biscuit, which I laid on the table with a sly wink sent Korbin's way).
My face grew more sombre, more serious as I wrote on my paper, however. I hoped the kid would at least look at it, consider it as seriously as I intended. When I had completed it, I placed it on the table before me, with a piece of charcoal beside it, should he deign to respond.
It read: 'Why do you hate me so?'
I asked myself that a few times, as we walked in silence towards the tavern, doing my best to simply exist and ignore the awkwardness of spending time with someone who clearly wants nothing to do with me.
I decided that perhaps it was time I found out why. Why did he despise me so, treat me so poorly? Was it just me, or the rest of the world as well? I wondered at what had happened to him to cause him to behave this way, and I could only think that it was some great tragedy - though I knew, for a teenager, almost anything could be considered a great tragedy.
And so we arrived at the tavern, and I pre-paid our bill by fetching firewood from the stack they had outside, moving it to a more convenient spot by the fireplace. I let Korbin order whatever meal he so desired, placing a request for roast Ningo and vegetables for myself, before settling at our spot.
I do not bother with verbal communication, or shifting so that I might send the boy my thoughts (the prospect of sending through my emotions was still quite confronting to me, however well I managed to control it before). I had gotten into the habit of keeping paper and charcoal pencil on me, to take notes on interesting things I learned in my wanderings of this place, so I fetched it from a pocket (along with another biscuit, which I laid on the table with a sly wink sent Korbin's way).
My face grew more sombre, more serious as I wrote on my paper, however. I hoped the kid would at least look at it, consider it as seriously as I intended. When I had completed it, I placed it on the table before me, with a piece of charcoal beside it, should he deign to respond.
It read: 'Why do you hate me so?'
The only true wisdom is in knowing
you know nothing
you know nothing
