"Your clock is ticking"
From the folds of empty space, a massive clock rolled into view to make a mockery of the seconds racing away from him. He glanced at it, found peace in whatever fate he'd made for himself, and answered Ishara's fury with the same cold steel blade he had once kept sheathed for so long. "As is your godhood". The flaring temper, the brewing frustration, the emotions on her sleeve, Ishara was acting less and less a High Queen - and more mortal, more human, by the day. Spinning round to give her his back, Thee Champion strode to Maya's side and his face softened.
"Take care of yourself. We'll speak soon", with a father's kiss on her forehead, he lanced out Ishara's throne room, leaving his daughter behind to wonder about the mortality of Zeon. She had killed her, and was certain of it, or at least, she had been.