Welcome to Gaia! ::

Naeria had not been particularly subtle when she passed into the forest. Caedus recognized a Velencian immediately and, though his first instinct was to sit completely still and let her pass, his nerves were already frayed and chipping away at logic.

He'd been seated on a stump, appreciating the warmth of the day, and the fresh air. He'd been cooped up in what passed for little more than a cave for a while, and he was still feeling exhausted.

Caedus was dressed in part of his uniform; it was comfortable and effective and he took good care of it. He wore a jacket over it, with the hood up, and dark pants and boots. A bag of crystals hung from his side, but that was expected.

It was inevitable that someone would find him, eventually. Caedus had spent much time imagining how such interactions would go.

The horse wasn't part of this vision though.

He knew horses were fast. She could catch up if she tried. But, he could weave through the narrow trees easily. If he ran, he could probably use her, even without using the crystals.

Caedus' feet remained planted on the ground but his knees bent just slightly, like he was ready to bolt at a second's notice. He watched her hands to make sure she didn't touch her ComTech. He didn't want her calling for backup, and he didn't want to be caught unawares if she did.

A silence fell between them; his eyes were locked on hers, visible even under the shadow of his drawn hood, but he didn't say anything.

He let her make the first move.

It was impossible to tell from her tone what her intentions might have been, but if Caedus were to trust her words, he might have felt hope.

He’d learned not to trust, but it did little to stifle the desire to. He was constantly at war with himself, burdened by hope as much as with doubt.

At first, he didn’t know what to tell her. Maybe he should have thanked her. Maybe he should have advised her to stop putting herself in the line of fire for his sake.

…There was so much that he didn’t know.

So much happened around him; he was present, but in the shadows.

When alone, he craved to be with them. When faced with another, he craved solitude.

Caedus’ expression was unreadable beneath his hood but his voice was quiet, low and rusty from disuse.

“No one has hurt me,” he reported solemnly. “...I am good at hiding.” Usually. “Why do you ask that of them?”