He didn't move for a long time after the Guardian stopped twitching.
The dust kept falling, slow and steady, sifting down from the crack in the dome overhead and settling over the wreckage in a fine grey layer that made the whole chamber look older than it already was. Kairos sat with his back against the stone plinth, legs stretched out in front of him, and finally let his body admit just how much the fight had taken out of him.
His ribs ached with every breath, sharp pain stabbing through his left side where the Guardian's tail had caught him. His knuckles were split open across both hands, the skin rubbed raw from driving his fists into stone over and over again. He was fairly sure, sitting there and cataloguing it the way Fex had taught him, that at least one of his fingers wasn't sitting quite right anymore.
That was probably something he should worry about.
Later.
