"Not long," Koltira said. He stayed where he was on the street, marveling. He hadn't missed the interplay of reactions across Blue's face, but he was still struck by the energy that underscored the other man's words, his very posture. It made Koltira wonder how much time had passed in that nightmarish afterlife, and about what might have happened in the interim.

He saw little need to elaborate on what had happened to him. His mind was an open book to Blue, as always, and if Blue wanted the knowledge he could easily take it. Koltira would not hide it from him, though he didn't relish the prospect of Blue reliving even a shadow of those experiences. Not the battle itself, not dying silently among the dirt and moss in the forest, and especially not what followed after. He supposed that if any of it mattered to anyone here, it would be Blue--though Koltira didn't, at this point, see why it should. He was only a half-formed memory to Blue, was he not? A remnant of a feeling, rather than the feeling itself.

He's been convincing himself of that, anyway.