Gremio's breath caught in his throat. "... 475?" he repeated back breathlessly. "Has it... has it really been that long?" He'd died in 456. He wondered if that was the present time in his world. Waking up here had seemed instantaneous, but when he really thought about it, there was no way of knowing how much time had actually passed.
Nineteen years... that would've made Tir thirty-six. Older than Gremio was now. That thought, despite what it meant for Gremio, still managed to calm him a little, and actually brought a small smile to his lips. He wondered what he looked like. He'd always resembled the late Lady McDohl--what Gremio remembered seeing of her in portraits anyway. He wondered if he looked at all like his father now that he had become a man. It was a shame that he wasn't there to see it. Part of him wanted to ask if the man next to him knew anything about his beloved Young Master. If the Liberation Army had been successful, and likely even if it had not, the name of Tir McDohl would've probably been easily recognizable.
... And yet, he knew that the answer he got very well could be the one he didn't want to hear. He liked the image of him in his head, as a proud, strong, noble leader, and most of all happy. Whatever alternatives were present to that, Gremio didn't believe his heart could take them.
So he just smiled--perhaps just a bit sadly--and nodded his head. "I see. I... suppose I've been gone a while, then."
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Nineteen years... that would've made Tir thirty-six. Older than Gremio was now. That thought, despite what it meant for Gremio, still managed to calm him a little, and actually brought a small smile to his lips. He wondered what he looked like. He'd always resembled the late Lady McDohl--what Gremio remembered seeing of her in portraits anyway. He wondered if he looked at all like his father now that he had become a man. It was a shame that he wasn't there to see it. Part of him wanted to ask if the man next to him knew anything about his beloved Young Master. If the Liberation Army had been successful, and likely even if it had not, the name of Tir McDohl would've probably been easily recognizable.
... And yet, he knew that the answer he got very well could be the one he didn't want to hear. He liked the image of him in his head, as a proud, strong, noble leader, and most of all happy. Whatever alternatives were present to that, Gremio didn't believe his heart could take them.
So he just smiled--perhaps just a bit sadly--and nodded his head. "I see. I... suppose I've been gone a while, then."