The Exarch very much doubts that time is somehow frozen on the First while he is here, if it is anything like the time discrepancy between the First and the Source. Beyond the rift, the flow of time moves without rhyme or reason and cannot be truly predicted, and while this 'world' is surely far from his there is no reason why it would be any different. The argument comes to him, but the moment he dares open his mouth to talk about it, his chest seizes and he finds himself doubling over as he falls into a bloody, flowery coughing fit.

It takes an embarrassingly long time to pass so the Exarch can straighten up and look to Parsee with a pained smile.

"How long... I believe it might be... in the realm of a hundred years?" Oh gods, his voice has been reduced to more of a pained rasp - he's still struggling for breath after that. "If there is a feeling I have spoken nothing of... perhaps..."

He takes a good long moment to think before letting out a shuddering sigh. An unresolved feeling that has lingered for a hundred years... loss. Loneliness. Regret. His complete separation from anything he once called home.

"...a touch of homesickness?"