[Well he's gonna drop that spoon into the dirt, for one. Stare blankly at Dezel before reacting late to what he just did.] Ah- Shoot! [He plucks it back up but the dough is hopelessly filthy. There's no salvaging this.] Oh, I'm- I'm sorry, sorry, Dezel. I'll go clean- there was a stream back that way, right? I'll just-

[He needs a minute. He needs a few minutes.

Sorey kneels there beside the water, washing a spoon long since clean as he tries to absorb that. He knew in his heart that it must've been at least a few hundred years. It had to be long enough to erode that temple, to eat through thick stone and coat everything in dust. It had to be long enough for that tree near the altar to grow tall and strong, but-

A thousand years?

A thousand years?

What place could he possibly have in a world a thousand years older?]