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Ding, ding, jingle, ding...

Dyakida idly listened to the sound of bells as she polished the second of a set of dual blades. They were chimes not unlike her sprite's, yet far more metallic. It was a strange sound in Jauhar, out of place among the chirps and rattles and shrieks and more organic and wet sounds that formed it's chorus. It was a nice sound.

And it was coming closer. She made one final inspection of the blades, testing their weight and sharpness (not with her sensitive palmss, of course, but with a plank of junk wood that served that purpose) before tying them together and wrapping them up along with the textured label that told her which sister it was for.

Another set of weapons refurbished, another one finished.

The bell sounds were closer still, and Dyakida wondered if they were coming here. She sat at the opening in the tree that served as her window, and felt the hot wind on her face, idly listening. The sounds grew closer - they were coming there. Of course, Dyakida didn't live alone - Alkidikes tended to live in groups, but for her it was a necessity.

Was this a friend of one of her housemates? A housemate who had decided to have bell accessories for some wild reason?

She smiled at the sound of her name - no, neither. This was a voice she did not recognize, a voice that spoke of a lot of mass behind it. A big woman. One she didn't know. A customer, then. with bells in her hair.

"Yes" she called down, "I am here." Peyla was wherever she went when she felt like going somewhere - Dyakida didn't pretend to know the secrets of sprites - and so Dyakida navigated down to the lower levels alone, feeling along the walls and then, once she reached the anteroom with it's large, sturdy table, feeling for the corner. "How can I help you?"

With all the bells, Dyakida could easily pinpoint where the newcomer was. She turned towards them, listening to the onslaught of energy and talking that came to pass and threatened to overwhelm her. Dyakida, however, was past the point where she could be overwhelmed by such things. Enough enthusiastic youths had come to her for their weapons that she knew how to deal with them. At least this one gave her name, without assuming that Dyakida would know it. That was always a plus.

"All right." Dyakida said. She kept a cloth nearby to buffer the table, and she smoothed it out, "Let me see what it needs." she said, holding out her hands for the spear. She needed to inspect it to see what she could do, and the irony of her wording was not lost on her. She was, however, accustomed to it.

"Earthling lands? Which? The Shifters or one of their other tribes?"

"Ah, the Shifters. Mmm." Dyakida's voice trailed off as she began an inspection of the spear, touching and lifting it lightly with delicate, practiced hands, mentally going through measurements of it's weight, height, sharpness, balance, and secureness. "Have you been to Neued? Or the borderlands of the Tale?" she asked, setting the spear aside for the moment as she picked out the materials she would need. "Or just in the Jungle lands?"

She undid the binding of the spear head - it needed to be replaced - and set it and the aside, beginning to sharpen and polish the crystalline head, giving it back it's keen edge and glassy texture. And clear color, though Dyakida would have to trust her client's assessment. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother." she said quietly. She remembered the Oban war all too well - it's bloodshed, it's ferocity. Though she had been in the camps, both as an assistant and as a prisoner, she knew it had been a terrible crucible. Some came out melted, others burned away, and some came out forged into stronger people. Too few. Which one was she? Dyakida did not know.

"Who was your mother, if I may ask?"

To dance, to play music... Dyakida enjoyed both, though she herself was neither musical nor particularly graceful. Mostly she listened to the music and enjoyed the movement of the people as they danced. "That sounds lovely." she mused as she worked.

"Mmm. I hear they are warm and pleasant..." she said, "But Matori... that is a long way away, with many lands in between. Why there, of all places?" she wondered. Surely, there were many other beautiful places, too.

Ysmir... Dyakida didn't know the name. Perhaps she had heard it spoken, once, but that was it. She had likely never met Ysmir. She paused in her work. Mixed blood... A partblood? Then that would mean that Mynyiri was also mixed, unless Aisha had granted a fullblooded daughter to a partblooded pleader. Such things had happened. But were also somewhat unlikely. She resumed her work, with perhaps more focus than before. Many gave partbloods a difficult time, but Dyakida refused to. Aisha had decided to bring them into the world for a reason, towards some divine purpose, and Dyakida, in her duty to the tribe, had to make that purpose eminently possible. Which meant that, one this spear left her hands, it had to be far better than anything that the Alkidike's mother had ever had the pleasure to weild. Dyakida owed them - both of them - that.

Amaka... that name was more familiar. Someone she knew had said that name, and it was someone that she was close to? Briella? Perhaps. Kaalnia? No, it wasn't Kaalnia. Yitzah? She hadn't spoken to - or heard from, for that matter - the child in a very long time. Ilyra? Perhaps? Hmm...

"Do you know your half-sister's name?"

Oba was... an unpleasant place. Not necessarily because of its climate or topography, but because... Well... Bad memories. Many bad memories. The war would not be soon forgotten, not by Dyakida. Between the dying cries of the wounded and the time she had spent in captivity, Dyakida did not think that she would ever forget what the Obans had done.

But Matori... "It sounds lovely. Perhaps, worth the trip." Sand like feathers sounded fantastic, and she had heard good things about the food that the Water Tribe made. Maybe one day she could visit Matori herself, but Dyakida thought it was unlikely. "When you do go, make sure to tell me all about it... I doubt I'll be able to -" or willing, "To leave Jahuar and the Isles anytime soon."

Dyakida paused abruptly in her polishing. "Ilyra?!" she exclaimed, tilting her head to look towards - or approximately towards - Mnyiri's voice. "I actually know her. She and Briella are friends of mine..." she hesitated a moment before resuming her sharpening and polishing, giving the spearhead a final go-over with a polishing cloth.

"I could introduce you, if you liked."

Dyakida imagined such shells. The Jahuaran coast had shells, too, and they were fun to hold and run her hand over. Holding them to her ear brought back memories of fishing in the ocean with her mothers, long ago, before she'd been foolish enough to run off into Jahuar with a group of sisters and try to live as an adult. They made for interesting crafting materials, though they were not durable enough to make proper weapons out of. They could easily, however, be made into decorations.

"I'd like that." she said, smiling. It had been a while since she'd gone shell hunting... or even just walking along the beach. Riverbeds were not the same - too muddy and sticky for her. "The shells, I mean. I'll have to think a little more about travelling to Matori... the, ah, logistics, you understand." There were, after all, Alkidike who were counting on her to repair or create their weapons... But also Matori was a long way away. It would require thought and planning. "I'll be sure to contact you when I do decide to go, however." It did sound lovely, though.

Dyakida laughed, a little taken aback by the other's excitement. She'd expected something, but nothing like that kind of jubilation. Not that she minded, of course. "I certainly can!" she said, smiling, "I don't mind the hug, but I'd advise waiting for me to not have a sharp object in hand." she said, chuckling a little. She put down the spearhead and mentally prepared herself to be hugged. Her hands needed a brief rest anyway. "There." she said, smirking a little.

Mnyiri had not been kidding when she'd said her hugs were intense! Goddess's leaves... Dyakida thought, managing to somehow stifle her yelp of surprise, I'm nearly crushed here! Not that it was uncomfortable, though. It was a very nice hug - it was just a lot.

Still, hugs deserved reciprocation, especially since, now that she was in the midst of it, she wasn't sure if she wanted it to stop too soon.

She extricated her hands from the depths of the hug (it was a big hug) and pat the other on the back, perhaps a little awkwardly. "Well, I'm glad I am able to help. So, you are very welcome."