Oberon had been alive for a long time, longer than well he’d care to admit. He thought he’d crumble by now, turned to ash in the hooves of those that come after him. Instead, he runs a small shop, inventoried by those only caring to dive and explore a little bit. Gives them a sense of purpose when they cannot dig deeper like others in small groups.

Suppose it isn’t too bad of a life, if it means he helps the younger ones out. Wonders a bit who will take his place when the time comes for it. Still as his shop is barren and the many whispering of the Harvester hits his ears. Oberon admits is a little bit curious about it all. Looking down to his little companion, bones and cloth, he rolls his eyes. “Look more like you everyday.” he mutters, to which the little odd thing chitters up at him happily.

“Come on, suppose there are some new things this old man can still see.” he remarks as he steps out from behind his shop. Bones cracking and popping in protest of it all. Walking gets a little harder each day, and he knows his last breath comes closer and closer for him. “Say there is a blood moon tonight, a chance to supposedly meet this Harvester.” he chuckles a bit, not ever minding his little friend never has words to respond, just the constant chittering. It’s fine, he can talk enough for the both of them.

It’s a slow walk towards the open fields to get a true view of the blood moon. Many have taken shelter to hide away from the red hue it gives off. Suppose it can look a bit hauntingly, but with all the horrors he had seen below? Well, this ain’t too bad at all. “It’s a good night.” he says with some soft longing in his voice. They take their spot and Oberon rests his weary bones on the soft wheat grass. “Even if nothing happens, well at least it was good to see.” he says gently to the little pet that seems to have gone awfully silent. “Hmm yeah sometimes it’s best to not say a thing and enjoy the moment.”

Perhaps they’ll never see the Harvester and what all it does, but maybe just maybe the Harvester had been watching, and all three enjoy the silence of night.