"Years," Ianchus repeats. It's not that he's afraid of staying here for that long, it's the concept of being in any one place for that long.

He pushes that out of his mind, running over the Gods.

"Most of those emotions don't seem pleasant." Maybe he could appreciate Fear, but certainly not Rage. Nor Confusion. And he's never really felt tranquil, at least not without the help of some substance.