Time marched on from that fateful encounter. A few days, perhaps even a couple of weeks. Time didn't matter much to the immortal Last Valknan, He of Titan Blood. Tarvok was isolated on Ynerax, for the greater part of his days it seemed. Its barren wastes slowly shifted to perhaps the last "gift" of Thee Champion (@thee_champion) before his final departure. Thistles, thorn-root, and plant-life suitable for the inhospitable cold of the nitrogen-based death world sprouted from the splintered remnants of their battlefield.
It seemed more a graveyard to Tarvok's dreams, but he did not linger on those thoughts. Over time he tended to the thistles for food. Soon they grew flowers, and then fruit - perhaps inspired by Tarvok's care towards them. The Titan made a rudimentary shelter nearby, a shack of cobbled stone and shattered tectonic plates. Within one of Ynerax's long weeks, he found that the thistles multiplied outside of his knowledge. The nitrogen-rich atmosphere caused an explosion of life.
His shelter became home to various tools made from the bark of the thistle-branches, and soon to the ancient shards of metal he restored using the vitality of their roots. He built, and created, and farmed. The land became tilled and maintained. He occupied himself with things other than his crusade against the universe. He could not imagine how the War of the Lavalieres would go with his exile here, but he could still feel the power of the Reality gem haunting his fingertips. The best he could conclude, was that he had not died. That was good enough for now.
One day, while scouring the old battlefield, he came across a sight he did not think he would be reunited with. The golden shimmer of his Deus Engine weakly spoke out to him. Its sockets were barren, and its shape deformed - but still wearable.
He slid his hand inside, and went for a quiet walk.
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