@roguishbard
With the Light banished from the skies and the Lightwardens finally, soundly defeated, it was far easier to tell the passage of time. One needed only to look up at the sky --- sunrise and sunset, the pale light of morning and the dim glow of dusk, the night sky and even the gentle blues of daytime, they were all now returned to the First. And it was a miracle, truly. One the Crystal Exarch had always believed would come to pass --- he had faith in the Warriors of Light, in his guiding stars, trusted them to prevent the terrible history he had set forth from. But even so, it was still hard to believe it was over, it had been over for days now. Maybe because he was still here, when he had never intended to be? It was a strange, strange thing, to be alive when you had never planned on living to this point, to see the end of this chapter. Only a bit part in their story, here and gone. But...then he had remembered, and now he’s--- almost glad, grateful, that he’s here now.
They had always remembered him, always known him as far more than a bit part of their tale, known him as a dear lost friend. He had quite forgotten that fact, forgotten so much over his long vigil, the years and his bond to the tower eating at his memories. He doesn’t think it was an active thing the tower did, doesn’t think it will happen again --- simply the amount of power he’s bonded to is a lot to deal with, and...for so long, it was--- well. An inevitable side effect. But he remembered now, their presence restoring what was lost (some of what was lost, he’s not sure if there are still things he’s missing, small things), and...G’raha Tia was home again. G’raha Tia...the name they’d spoken almost as soon as they’d arrived, unfamiliar then and even now it still rang oddly. But it was his name. Proof he was more than just this background figure, more than the Exarch. That he had lived a life before his long sleep. That he...he was someone. G’raha Tia, Archon, Scholar of Baldesion, founding member of NOAH...he had friends. And he had family.
That last bit was...kind of the sticking point for him right now. Family. How he had forgotten, he’s not sure. That the Scions he’d Called, the Archons--- were more than just the brave souls that stood against the Darkness, were more than just the starring heroes in the tales that sent him to this time and space. They were his family. Adoptive, yes, but he had grown up with them. With Thancred, Y’shtola, Urianger. (Lyse and Papalymo, too, but he read those stories, knew where they ended and why they weren’t here, and though he mourned the mage, he didn’t hold it against her. Her destiny led elsewhere, that was all.) But that he had forgotten--- he had stood there and asked his own adoptive father to aid in an openly suicidal plan to save the Warriors...gods, no apology could ever be enough. The turmoil and chaos that set about as soon as they’d returned, the celebration that lasted a good long while, and his injuries had all conspired to prevent him from properly dealing with his restored memories, but now he’s nothing to do but deal with them --- his duties are much reduced now that there’s nothing so pressing as the impending apocalypse to worry about and the sin eaters are gone --- and as such he’s found himself lying on his back in the Umbilicus, staring at the ceiling and valiantly attempting to process it all. Which, so far, isn’t going well. Gods, what a fool he is!
