It always amazed Dragon how much life the swamp could hide. Out of the still darkness an entire group of creatures had tumbled, blindly following the rat as much as he had.

He studied the strangers, and the one who spoke, and gave the faintest dip of his boat-shaped face in acknowledgement. "We know some things," he answered, with faint humor in his tone. They were more survivors than 'secret keepers,' but he was interested to see where this might go.

Ahh... Skein. He looked at her, and suppressed a snort of laughter. "Wise of you... but you needn't tell everyone you distrust them." That was a free lesson, because family was family, but he honestly felt the same way. His attention fell to the rat.

He ate rats; he wasn't about to go full pearl-clutching righteous paladin about the thing, but that had been brutal, and the way it had been discarded... what was the point? Still--"Are you going to eat that?" he asked the fur-clad figure, and watched her closely for her reaction. He remained wary of those nearby, too, but he didn't expect an ambush, really. He imagined they were all here for the same reason: wanting to know why this talking rat had called them out.

Dragon listened, and made no move to eat the rat as yet. If someone else did--let them. For now his focus was on her.

Whoever she was.

At length, a low breath escaped him, a long hissing sort of sound, but it was thoughtful. "I will gladly tell you what I know. Everything I know," he went on, his mind flicking back over all the Masters he had known, the tasks Artio and Farina had set them to, the threats Astraea had made. "If, first, you tell me who you are, and what you want with that knowledge."

He was guarded. He had to be. The warning grunt and glance he gave the rest of them--Children and not--held the same. It said, wait. It said, let's find out what we're dealing with, first.

It said, let's be sure we're not signing our own death warrants.

For a moment, Dragon glanced to the others present. He didn't know all of them--Larkspur, or Soh-ling. He introduced himself, then, both to them and to this Lilith. "Hello. I am Dragon. We are the Children of Rot. We survive," he went on. He looked back to Lilith. "And so you did not hear this from me."

Because if it came back to him? Some of the Masters could be... bitchy. And while he had absolutely no idea if Lilith could be trusted, he wasn't about to say anything others didn't already know. Things that only the Children had known were now relatively common knowledge in the caves. She could find out, one way or another; his opinions and his disrespect hadn't gotten him killed yet.

"I know that before we hatched, any of us, there was a rebellion. Jupiter was blamed and is no longer here. I was told that she was killed." He knew that because of Eurydome, who had worked for her, who had come to him seeking her. He'd gone to Vargas on her behalf. And speaking of: "One of the old Overseers was made Master. Perhaps in her stead. I do not know. I get the impression it is an echo of what it was. They are... rebuilding, maybe. You can find that one in Draco. He is overbearing, and he wishes to be called Master Vargas." There was mockery in his tone, and his grin seemed to widen just a little. If Vargas got offed, Dragon wouldn't lose sleep over it.

"Master Astraea seeks to rebuild things, from what I know. Master Tenzin aids us where he can. Master Aquarian is very hungry." Another strange, half-grin flitted across his rigid face. "Masters Farina and Artio seem... fair. If any of them, they would have my loyalty." He named them over Aquarian, and perhaps that would have surprised the other Children, but Aquarian had shown himself greedy and fickle. He was a useful ally, though, when he was fed. "Nemean is considered by some to be a traitor. Aquarian wants nothing to do with her," he added, thinking.

Then he listed those other powers in the caves. Dragon did not know if they were Masters or if they were not. "Raheerah is gone, but I do not know if he was Master. The Collector, the Masked Merchant, the Blacksmith--they are all still here. The Blacksmith aids. The Collector helps... and hinders! At a cost. The Merchant... changes us. If we survive it." He was thinking back to his children, those who had survived the Trials.

"Perhaps the others know more. Tamulus... I do not think I know that name." And he looked to the others for confirmation. If there was more Lilith wanted--details, perhaps, on the things he'd all but glossed over--well, he was still here.