Chronos
Tick tock tick tock
Aeon is used to the comforting metronome of the clocks. It's a song that never gets old, much like himself in his suspended state. With no era, no home, all he has is the smooth flow of time and the steadfast ticktockticktocking of the clocks.
With the thirteen warriors returned to their eras, Aeon relaxes. The time rift was a taxing affair, though entirely necessary. The mere thought of Galamoth sending his attack dog on the vestiges of time makes Aeon's blood boil, red red red red blood under his skin, a striking boldness to his coloring. To murder the sands of time was to murder his family, his friend, his lover.
But the soul keys had been harnessed and the threat disposed of, so time was stitched back into rightful stream.
Tick tock tick tock
Alternate realities, alternate futures whiz through his mind, of thirteen warriors, of immortals and humans and creatures.
But the Time Reaper was slain, Galamoth's plot stunted in its action. None of those realities could ever hope to be.
And thus, Aeon smiles. Time marches on.
