KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
It had been mayhem such as he had never experienced before in his life. Ice crashing into the city, houses destroyed, people injured and dead, and screams echoing in the night. The cold was bitter and dangerous, but Korbin couldn't afford to let it stop him. His house was unscathed, and so was the Kraai, and his first thoughts went to those that were indeed less fortunate. He was a healer; he had a job to do, and as Noah guided people into the Academy, Korbin followed the stream of people inside to start tending to wounds.
He could only make stop gap measures. He had no magic, no powers to aid him, and had to resort to the very basics. Tourniquets to stop bleeding, bandages to patch up wounds, often torn from the patients own clothing, and quick instructions to others that were on their feet and able to help. It was not enough, never enough, and the cold was ever present, encroaching upon them all.
And beneath the cold cool of his mind as he rushed from task to task, the worry for his sister ate at him. She wasn't inside, which meant she had to be out there still. And when that unearthly scream put an end to the sound of battle, hurling accusations, he couldn't stand it anymore. There were enough hands here that could do as much, if not more good than him.
Korbin went to find his sister, and found her squaring off with the Launceleys. Or two of them, at least; he arrived in time to hear Loren's very timely denouncing of his own name, and ground his jaws at how convenient it was, that the man should leave his family now, of all times.
With hands covered in the blood of others, smudges and smears of it flecking his face where he had touched his own face, the young raven slipped in to stand beside his sister, with a grim half smile of gratitude towards Noah. His blue eyes were cold as he took in Neron and Zariah; then he simply ignored them, leaving Morgan to do whatever she pleased - violence and demands seemed to be on the agenda. Korbin quietly approved.
"There are people inside that need your healing," he told Loren. Turning to Weaver, he gave her a long, thorough once-over to ensure that she was not dying. "Where do you need me?" he asked her simply, in a quiet, unquestioning show of support. Whatever she chose to do, he would be with her.
He could only make stop gap measures. He had no magic, no powers to aid him, and had to resort to the very basics. Tourniquets to stop bleeding, bandages to patch up wounds, often torn from the patients own clothing, and quick instructions to others that were on their feet and able to help. It was not enough, never enough, and the cold was ever present, encroaching upon them all.
And beneath the cold cool of his mind as he rushed from task to task, the worry for his sister ate at him. She wasn't inside, which meant she had to be out there still. And when that unearthly scream put an end to the sound of battle, hurling accusations, he couldn't stand it anymore. There were enough hands here that could do as much, if not more good than him.
Korbin went to find his sister, and found her squaring off with the Launceleys. Or two of them, at least; he arrived in time to hear Loren's very timely denouncing of his own name, and ground his jaws at how convenient it was, that the man should leave his family now, of all times.
With hands covered in the blood of others, smudges and smears of it flecking his face where he had touched his own face, the young raven slipped in to stand beside his sister, with a grim half smile of gratitude towards Noah. His blue eyes were cold as he took in Neron and Zariah; then he simply ignored them, leaving Morgan to do whatever she pleased - violence and demands seemed to be on the agenda. Korbin quietly approved.
"There are people inside that need your healing," he told Loren. Turning to Weaver, he gave her a long, thorough once-over to ensure that she was not dying. "Where do you need me?" he asked her simply, in a quiet, unquestioning show of support. Whatever she chose to do, he would be with her.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
