Welcome to Gaia! ::

The stillness of the night was probably expected, and it was silent for a long moment until a rattly sigh came from a few yards away. Caedus blended in easily with the trees and pushed himself away from the one he’d been leaning against.

Oberon was safe, he always had been.

“I know very little,” Caedus admitted, in a voice a bit rough from misuse. He was dressed warmly, in clothes that were probably fairly new. The hood of his cloak was drawn up and in the shadows it was impossible to make out any details beyond his bright eyes. After a brief scan of the area, he made his way from the trees to sit down on a rock near the Senshi.

“...I do not know how much guidance I can give. But I will try. I know little of this new threat Earth is facing,” he said, though his voice had turned apologetic. “So I will need more information. But…considering how greatly I have divided my own people, I may not be the best choice for your questions.”

Very carefully, Caedus accepted the phone. It was almost as if he didn’t trust his own hands in the process. He listened as Oberon explained everything, and he took his time to examine each individual picture.

He was quiet for all of it, but it was clear that he’d allowed himself to focus completely on the information in front of him.

While Oberon was here, he didn’t have to worry about being so aware of his surroundings.

It took him a bit of time after Oberon asked before he could answer, not because he was avoiding the question but because he had a long memory to sift through, and distant stories weren’t really at the forefront of his mind.

“Yes,” he answered, but the words came slowly even when he started to speak them. “When I was young, we were always moving. We were unable to, I think the phrase is ‘put down roots’. We had no place in the universe. We drifted. Sometimes into areas where we were not wanted. I was a child. I cannot trust my memory. I was,” he exhaled, “indisposed for much of our travels. But Commodore Lyndin,” a name he still spoke with as much respect as sadness, “would tell me stories about what I had missed. But it is a fact that we were told to seek help from the Moon Kingdom. We sought them out because we had crossed paths with others they had helped. I…”

He was swiping through the murals again but he had stopped on the nearly-blank wall. He could make out the outline of the eye and stared into it. Caedus rarely looked happy but he was grimacing, now.

“...do not know if this creature was among their targets. But I have heard of the downfall of world-eaters. If not this one, then others.”

When asked of the Moon Kingdom, Caedus shrugged. There were many here on Earth that had some loyalty to them, even if only through proximity. His eyes remained downcast as he contemplated.

“I cannot speak of the Moon Kingdom,” he finally decided. “I do not understand why we were not worth helping. The thought still echoes in my mind. But I cannot help but to find irony that now they are gone and we remain.”

He exhaled, a rattly sound, and then rested his forehead in the palm of his hand as he planted his elbow on his knee.

“...I do not take pleasure in their extermination. I would not wish it on anyone. I think, even if you cannot trust someone, sometimes you do not have the luxury to turn away aid. The Moon was very powerful. If they found a solution, I think you should look into it.”

He could not afford to be petty when a world was at stake. The Moon accomplished many things, it would be wise to explore their successes and build off of what they could.

“I wish I could tell you more of the stories,” he said, and dug his thumb and finger into his eyes as if that could clear the fog polluting his mind. “I do not think Commodore Lyndin would deny you information for a good cause, regardless of your history. I remember…”

His voice trailed off, but he did seem to find some thread of recollection.

“...A world eater is immense, but it may be something of a…” he faltered for the word and mumbled, “Exaggeration? No…I mean, some worlds are smaller than others. It does not mean there is no danger. But, the stories are different. I have heard of hunters in space. A fleet of…I do not know the words. I am sorry,” he said, but still seemed to be trying to scrape out the information. “Soldiers. I have heard of science. Artificial holes in space. I have heard of magic, but I understand that least of all. I know there were people who were able to stop them.”

He lifted his head to look at Oberon. “And if there were before, I know there will be again. Earth is full of many miracles. You have always surprised me. I wish I could be of more help. I should have paid more attention. I am sorry, Oberon.”

A muscle in Caedus’ jaw twitched. He knew he wasn’t safe here, so he nodded. Trust was a fragile thing, and in times of danger he knew the bonds were further weakened. He was in a precarious position.

“I will keep to the shadows,” he insisted, and meant to do so. He looked away again, planting his chin into his palm as he rested his elbow on his knee. His brows furrowed as he stared into the shadows but there were no answers there, no matter how desperately he pulled at the threads of his memory.

“I cannot recall the hunters but I will think on it,” he promised, but there was already doubt in his voice. “I last heard stories of them before my time in the Rift. It did not occur to me to ask of them once I was freed. My mind was preoccupied. We avoided them, we did not know if they would try to hunt us, too. But they were transient. They could have survived,” he said, but it was an empty hope. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Oberon.

“...Can you lie to Commodore Lyndin? He does not have to know I was the one who told you. I have heard that there are others from beyond the stars. Could my story have come from one of them instead? I do not want you to become a target because of your kindness to me.”

Caedus nodded appreciatively, but there was a heavy guilt that clung to him. It wasn’t just that he’d asked Oberon to lie for him, it was–

Well, probably all of this. He looked at the supplies and nodded, offering a soft word of thanks for them. He accepted the items, and while it looked as though he considered sampling the food now, he was probably still heeding Oberon's caution too much to do so out in the open.

“I have been spending a lot of time here. Sometimes people come by, but I do not find it difficult to hide from them if I do not think I can trust them. There is a stream that passes through here.”

He nodded over his shoulder without much enthusiasm. “Downstream, there is a cave. I keep some supplies there. If I am hiding, it will probably be there. I will leave a stone there,” he said, letting his eyes settle on a tree a few years away from them. It had a sizable hollow and would have been easy to hide something in.

“I was taught a system you use, a long time ago. Green is good. Yellow is caution. Red is danger. Will that be adequate?”