Nostalgia

Caedes rummaged within his satchel. Pulling free a cloth and a small crude pot. He began to wrap the cloth around the Jimson Weed, with its trumpet-shaped flowers and large dark-green leaves. With practiced efficiency, he carefully pulled the plant from the ground, his movements fluid and precise as his jaws carefully set it down afterwards to study it for a few moments. While Sephiran's question hung in the air, Caedes continued his task without hesitation, seamlessly multitasking as he addressed his cousin's inquiry.

"Because," Caedes began, his voice steady and composed, betraying little emotion as he spoke. "I had grown stagnant, devoid of the challenges and opportunities I desired. Rotting away like my broken father." His words were measured, revealing little of the internal struggles that had led to his departure, but still a hint of displeasure remained. Caedes paused briefly, allowing the weight of his words to settle before continuing. His emeralds checked the Jimson Weed over for any external parasites, any imperfections before he spoke again. "Your father has no shortage of warriors, or healers." he explained, his tone guarded yet resolute. "I sought a place where my skills could be of use, where I could be of use. To you, Sephiran. To your cause. It was my first thought when Grandmother asked what path I desired to take." His gaze remained fixed on the toxin on the ground, the significance of his decision lingering in the air between them. Caedes awaited Sephiran's response, prepared for whatever further inquiries his cousin might have, ready to answer plainly and without restraint.