GUARDIAN | DORBYN ✓

52

corbyn yawned, seeing the skies fading stars as he waved to them, almost as if to say goodbye. his father, ray, had gone to the bathroom just minutes ago, possibly having fallen asleep. it was a long night, not many newcomers to greet in his large shift to work.

he slumped in the old computer chair, surrounded by thin walls while he contemplated kicking his feet onto the desk, deciding against it since he still had work left to do. the position would probably bend his wings up, too, so it wasn't his brightest of ideas.

him and ray had been hanging out in the shack all night, corbyn allowed for his father to catch sleep while he filled in the files of people that arrived yesterday. it was really the only thing they could do besides playing a game on the computer, but corbyn wanted to be productive.

the wind whistled, pen scribbling with the occasional wisp of paper moving. it was quiet, corbyn was absorbed in the work, no matter how draining it seemed.

he did take a short break to look at the stars, though, remembering a few stories to clear his mind of the numerous deceased people that joined their community. as much as he hated to hear about death, it was becoming common for him. it was all he could expect joining the guards, then again, he only joined to fill in schedule.

corbyn didn't like not doing something. he always wanted to be busy, whether it was watching a movie or mowing the lawn, cleaning cars, volunteering at his old job, et cetera. he kept himself busy so he wouldn't have time to think of things that would upset him. ("things" being daniel.)

corbyn's eyes began to lid, seeing no time of arrival to be soon as his arms crossed over themselves and he leaned into it, relaxing his body as the cap on his head fell onto the desk with a quiet clatter. his head moved a little, nestling, almost, before finally getting comfortable. his wings lost their posture, drooping as his back stretched out a little more for support.

his breaths were slow, eased, feeling oddly secure in such a space. it was cozy. not exactly the cozy of a warm cabin during winter time, but simply cozy from how tiny and worn it seemed. the leather on the chairs was beginning to peel up from the people who just couldn't help to pick at it, the books were usually dusty and majority of the folders were found creased or curved or bent. even though very little people worked on the job, you could tell it was used.

the wind became more dull outside, almost incapable of hearing his own intake of air before a loud ding startled him.

it rang out in the silence, corbyn's hat tipping to the floor as he sat up with wide eyes. his wings followed the noise with a thwack, beating into the back of the chair. he completely ignored the dull ache, blinking slowly at the bright screen while his fingers were quick to lower the volume.

he squinted, hand blindly gripping the mouse as the arrow drifted up to the top left corner, clicking the notification as it became full screen.

•daniel james seavey
birth date: april 2 1999
cause of death: alcohol poisoning
arrival: 3-4 am

corbyn's wings ruffled, shuddering. wait, what? there's definitely another daniel in this world...yeah, right.

corbyn's eyes drifted to the clock, seeing the clock strike 12:30. he had time, but he didn't really want it. anticipation began to eat away at him like disease.

what did you do, daniel?
alcohol poisoning?
why wasn't i there?
why didn't i save you?

his expression was blank, swallowing while his head dropped to lay on his arms again. it was a mellow, heavy feeling. almost like he didn't want to believe it. so, he tried to defend, counteract, not wanting to see that ever in a million years.