Corin swallowed. Nodded. Forced a smile, and tried to feel it.
It wasn’t that being alone was a new feeling. And it wasn’t that he’d particularly expected it to change. It’s just that…he’d hoped. Street kids weren’t supposed to hope. They weren’t supposed to form families. And they certainly weren’t supposed to fall in love.
But Ariya had insisted otherwise. She’d promised him that the way things were weren’t the way things needed to be. The streets should have proven otherwise. His time in the Capitol should have proved otherwise. Everything that had happened to him should have proven otherwise! He wasn’t a person who was born to love.
The crew leader is never really a part of the crew.
The barkeeper never really fits with the patrons.
The Windrunner can never really be accepted by those he protects.
Corin knew more than anyone the unique sort of isolation his life had forced on him.
Why teach me hope, Ariya, if it never amounts to anything?
Would you rather believe you’ll always be alone? Hope gives a loveless life purpose.
She was right, of course. Endlessly wise, his spren. And stubbornly unaware of what it was to feel, to hurt. To need more than cold advice, even if it was delivered with feeling.
Corin smiled again, gritting his teeth as if the motion would hold his heart together. “I hope it brings you bliss, then. I hope it’s everything you’ve wanted. If you ever need a game of dice, an old face…” he trailed off. She wouldn’t. She’d be better off without any reminder of him. “The other tributes will be with you the whole way.”
I’ll find a home someday, Ariya. Today was never going to be that day.