@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 heās--- almost glad, grateful, that heās 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 doesnāt think it was an active thing the tower did, doesnāt think it will happen again --- simply the amount of power heās 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, heās not sure if there are still things heās missing, small things), and...Gāraha Tia was home again. Gāraha Tia...the name theyād spoken almost as soon as theyād 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. Gāraha 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, heās not sure. That the Scions heād 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, Yāshtola, Urianger. (Lyse and Papalymo, too, but he read those stories, knew where they ended and why they werenāt here, and though he mourned the mage, he didnāt 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 theyād 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 heās nothing to do but deal with them --- his duties are much reduced now that thereās nothing so pressing as the impending apocalypse to worry about and the sin eaters are gone --- and as such heās found himself lying on his back in the Umbilicus, staring at the ceiling and valiantly attempting to process it all. Which, so far, isnāt going well. Gods, what a fool he is!
