Tyrael was slowly getting used to having his nephew around. Truthfully, he had no idea where the Nephalem actually was half the time, but the other half seemed to be spent around Tyrael and the Horadrim. Rathma came and went as he pleased, whenever he pleased.
He'd tried to find a pattern by which the Nephalem showed up, and there wasn't one. Sometimes there was something that needed his attention, and he'd appear without fail (though he was always full of disdain and sarcasm). Sometimes he hung around for several days, simply watching the Horadrim work, or reading. More often than not, Tyrael felt like he showed himself simply so that he could critique whatever human thing Tyrael was attempting to do on any given day.
(Rathma reminded him achingly of both Inarius and Malthael at times.)
Some of his insight was legitimately useful - things to look for that cued specific emotions, things that most humans could not consume, the myriad of problems stirring in Westmarch. A great deal of it, however, was simply commentary on his day-to-day doings. Anything from what he'd chosen to eat that morning, to how he swung El'Druin during practice, to the many, many letters that needed writing and sending. Rathma always had something to say about it.
He could be passive-aggressive at times, but when Tyrael had asked Lorath about it, the young man had not seemed worried.
"I think he's still not totally comfortable around you," he'd said, "But it seems to me like he's trying to get to know you. Albeit in a strange, awkward way."
Tyrael decided to accept this, and in turn, tried to get to know Rathma better. It was slow going though. Actively engaging with him had the chance of scaring him off, for lack of a better term. Another of the Horadrim likened it to adopting a stray cat. Patience was key, so she claimed.
And so, Tyrael would acknowledge the Nephalem's presence, and then more or less ignore him for the rest of the day. This seemed acceptable to Rathma, and he started showing up more often, and staying longer. Sometimes he'd even lend a hand with whatever it was Tyrael was doing.
More and more, the two would spend time near each other, but not actually engaging one another. The ancient would work on whatever it was he was working on, Tyrael would work on either his books, or dealing with the Horadrim. Every so often, when Tyrael became stumped, Rathma would offer some tidbit of advice or information, and Tyrael was abruptly reminded of his head-reading ability.
He never asked what Rathma was doing, and the King of Necromancy never bothered to tell him. Tyrael had decided that whatever it was, he probably didn't want to know anyway.
It had concerned him the first time Rathma disappeared for a lengthy amount of time. Tyrael had gotten used to the Nephalem's presence almost, but at seemingly random he'd vanished for a week.
When he came back, he was no worse for wear...and so Tyrael did not question him. He did perhaps pay far more attention to what he was doing than usual, and Rathma had simply stared at him.
Things went back to 'normal' though. Gone for a day, back for a day. Tyrael's study was quiet and empty, and then it was abruptly full of snark and that ever-twisting cloak that Rathma never took off. (He wondered if teleportation was something he could potentially master...perhaps he'd pester his nephew about it some time.)
The rest of the Horadrim were comfortable with his presence, or lack-thereof, as well. They had an easier time communicating with the old Nephalem, although several of them found him disconcerting. ("I don't think he sleeps." "Everyone sleeps though…""Not him.") Rathma would occasionally spar with them or impart bits of magical knowledge, but otherwise didn't really have much to do with the affairs of the Horadrim.
It started to puzzle Tyrael. The old Nephalem had seemed so adverse to his presence before, and now he couldn't seem to stay away.
He wondered why Rathma didn't simply return to his order, to deal with his Necromancers. That question answered itself in the form of letters from the two 'Chosen', who had departed for their home weeks ago.
The Necropolis was devastated. Almost no one left, and much of its structure had collapsed.. They would attempt to rebuild...but it would take a very long time indeed.
Tyrael felt very sure that the prospect of facing the ruins of that order must have been a terrible idea indeed for his nephew. It didn't take an intellectual to figure out that something was very strange indeed about Rathma's past. Tyrael distinctly remembered seeing him, arguing with him, very nearly killing him during the Time of Judgement. He remembered how old the Nephalem had been at that point, and that was several millennia ago now.
The Necropolis must have been the last bit of familiarity on the planet for Rathma. It was where his people and culture had thrived for so long, and now it was gone.
Abruptly, the former angel had been reminded of how he'd felt when Heaven had crumbled around him. His home, his people, everything he once knew...he had faced the prospect of its destruction, and caved beneath the horror and despair this idea brought.
Rathma's world was already long gone.
How long ago had the Nephalem as a civilization fallen? There were maybe two people alive in Creation who remembered, and Inarius certainly wasn't going to answer questions any time soon. Tyrael couldn't imagine living knowing that everyone in the Heavens were dead and gone - he'd either go mad with grief or catatonic with guilt. At least there were still the humans around, but Tyrael was starting to realize just how fundamentally different a Nephalem and Human were. They were practically a different species altogether.
For all he'd claimed otherwise, Tyrael was starting to think that Rathma was simply...wanting for someone, or something to connect with. Something to ground him to Sanctuary once more.
Why else would he stay around the Horadrim, for whom he had no business with, and Tyrael, who he'd openly loathed the presence of?
Come to think of it, Tyrael was even starting to wonder if the old Nephalem had actually hated him, or simply...feared him. Lorath had asked him (in halting, uncertain sentences) if he'd really tried to destroy Sanctuary so long ago, and there were very few places the young man would get that idea from. Tyrael didn't think that Rathma was undermining him, no. The more he considered it, the more he had to admit that it would make sense for someone who had experienced Judgement Day to fear him.
This was a distressing thought really, but at least the Ancient seemed to be coming around to him.