[ he bites his tongue around that impulse, defensive words laced with careful concern. when they all know what will become of strife, what fate has in store for their individual downfall, it isn't something that ought to be voiced — unnecessary and too sentimental. his features are in a disarray, brows furrowed, lips down-turned, obviously displeased with something, but phainon looks away all the same. ]

It's been nearly a month, maybe even more. [ he doesn't dare allow his thoughts to wander towards his professor's end. no matter the words that encourages and drives him forward, still, in this life, he's just gone. his arms are crossed loosely over his chest now — as if to prevent something from spilling forth, something else that mydeimos didn't need.

with a shake of his head, phainon redirects his thoughts to their present: ]

Is it not the same for you? ... Don't tell me that Kremnoans register time differently upon returning to a place of familiarity. [ a half-hearted joke, lukewarm, in attempt to brighten the mood, somewhat. ]