[For Kratos and Lloyd's parts, they're unaware of the time passing, though Kratos's tears do wind down. It's simply been too long since he's felt anything with such intensity that it has to fade eventually. Part of him quails at the thought of feeling nothing again.

[It's on the heels of this that Yuan makes his offer, and the response is a blast of gratitude and wonder and a hesitant plea. Yes, he would like to hear that. He doesn't want to be reduced once more to a state where he can't feel anything.

[Eventually Kratos does pull back, but only so he can learn Lloyd. His hands stay where they are, one on Lloyd's shoulder and one brushing Lloyd's cheek with its knuckles, brushing his hair back, touching, memorising; his entire focus is on his son, learning his mana signature as well as his face. Now that he's paying attention he can tell what's familiar, the foundation of the man Lloyd is from the grinning toddler.

[Lloyd's content to sit and let himself be memorised, watching Kratos's expression with fascination. Though there isn't much actually on his face, there's a concentratedness there; and in Kratos's eyes, there's a wealth of things Lloyd hasn't often seen with such intensity. Dirk is a great dad; but he wasn't always tactile like this.

[For all that Kratos's attention is on Lloyd, there is a part of him which eventually starts noting other things. The room. The mana in the house, the mana past the walls. Eventually, without shifting his gaze from Lloyd, he asks:]

Where are we?

[It's halting, hoarse, the voice of a man who hasn't spoken in far too long except to scream or beg.]