A strange thought, to be so old that the experiences of one's life have been forgotten over the years. Antarcticite cannot imagine forgetting what it was like to be broken, or to be shattered into a million tiny pieces, bits of their consciousness falling away fragment by glittering fragment. But Padparadscha has well over a thousand years of life under their belt that Antarcticite can only hope to experience here in Aifaran; surely if they will have to change a little in such a lifetime.

(Lots of things must be subject to change in such a lifetime, they think privately to themselves, recalling that glimpse of melancholy that Rutile had shown them when Antarcticite first arrived here.)

"How long does it last?" They come back to themselves and look questioningly to the senior gem, already reaching out with almost naive curiosity to dip a finger into the solution.