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*:･ﾟ✧
"Layla says hi." Corbin is standing in utter silence, gathering himself, the smell of cigarette smoke wrapped around him. He draws a breath in. Hospitals used to creep him out when he was younger, but now they've become so familiar that it's almost scary. The unpleasant scent of chemicals hang in the air. There's a haunting tune present, a sickening melody. "I know you don't prefer flowers, but she bought these for you as a gift. She means well. Trust me." Corbin ventures over to the nightstand next to the hospital bed. The bouquet of flowers in the glass vase are dead, withered to expiry. He replaces the bundle, and a sad smile is smeared across his face once the healthy petals of Layla's kindness flourishes by the wall.
Corbin gives the dead flowers a once-over, bidding them farewell as he discards them.
The man drags a chair to the brink of the hospital bed, afterwards. "I wish I had some type of news to share with you, but nothing's changed," Corbin admits slowly. He has grasped his mother's lax hand caringly and hugged it to his knee, and although no one can hear him, he still feels ridiculous to some extent for conversing with someone in a coma. He never knew if she could register what he's been relaying to her, though, he meant it was important that she was confided with regardless — whether it reaches her or not.
Corbin never stopped hoping. He's always had faith in her regaining consciousness someday, that the incident all those years ago would be unearthed to him and Layla. To find either closure or a chance for some sort of justice to be exacted. Ever since that archeological dig site was shot up, Corbin's mother, escorting Abdallah El-Faouly on a private and exclusive expedition, was confined to this very hospital bed. Unlike Layla's father, Corbin's mother is here with him — sort of, yet that wouldn't stop it from being difficult for him. She isn't exactly living, per se, she's bedridden and stuck in a never-ending slumber, or so it appears.
I just wish you would wake up.
"My Insomnia and dreams are the same: Eldread hasn't changed one bit. Stupid octopus," Corbin mocks, chuckling dismissively at that. The lines of his pensive face flattens. "Marc is still missing, though. Layla and I can't get a hold of him... I wonder if it's just Marc being Marc or if Khonshu is involved somehow, issued some type of order which led him away from us... It doesn't make any sense. I can't understand why he would distance himself from us like that. Do you think he could've landed himself into some kind of trouble or something?"
Silence.
Corbin's eyes are downcast, his lips pursed. "I am scared. I do wonder if Marc's feelings changed for any of us and that's all there is to it. Everything was fine before he left, but he is human and sometimes... Or maybe we're to blame. Either me or Layla could very well be the issue...?"
