Justice nods slowly, petting her hair. "She is dead by now." Of that, Justice is certain. It has been a long time since the Avaar were a dominant culture, and he doesn't think he would make himself forget someone important to him before they died. What if she needed him?

She's dead, and the knowledge grips his chest like a vice. The lack of memory makes it less intense, but it's still a persistent pressure, one that makes him hold onto her tighter even as her little hands gently pat him. "It hurts."

He doesn't know how to express it. It hurts to know that she is dead, and he won't see her again. How many more mortals did he care for and lose like this? Will he face the deaths of all the mortals here as well, and then forget them?

But there's a sweetness to the pain, one that grows as she keeps patting him, like she can make the hurt go away. He helped her, he thinks. He helped her and she remembers, wherever she is now.