He listened to all Korbin had to say. Really listened. Noah was doing exactly what he said he would--he was staying. He was here. He would do what the raven needed (which, probably wasn't always going to be what he wanted). He understood what Korbin was saying. He felt suffocated by these people -- these outlanders -- who didn't know what it was like here in Halo, what the Hale had suffered. Even if they had their own trauma in they histories, there was still no bridge they could cross that would bring them to the common ground of growing up in Halo and facing what Korbin had. Noah was the only one left. Noah knew the hurt of loss -- while Weaver may not have been his sister, he loved her as close to one as he knew; Erebor may not have been his brother, but he was his best friend before he died.
"I think it's hard for people to convey that what they want is truly just for you to be okay." Noah leaned back in the chair. "I don't think that people want anything from you for them. I mean, I could be wrong. I don't know their motivations. It's just what I assume." He folded his arms, and sighed deeply, again. "People don't always know how to help the best ways. I'm guilty of that too. Lots of people don't want my help and I force it on them anyways." People, he knew, were prideful at their very core. "If you didn't have to do anything for anyone else, what would you do for you?" Korbin's life had never really ever been about him. Noah had always seen that. He was the youngest sibling, and his identity had always been wrapped up in what Erebor and Weaver were. Korbin had never had to stand alone, on who he was--he was always in their shadows.
