Welcome to Gaia! ::

The rhythm of her chisel on crystal was a familiar one. It rang out with sibilant chimes, not unlike Peyla's cries, but not exactly like them either. Peyla's voice was a living thing. The crystals voice was wholly alien to life, but Dyakida could never call it dead. She ran the newest-carved portion of the blade through her smoothing tools, rubbing until parts of the crystal became sand, and only a smooth, glassy blade was left behind. She touched it gently, assessing.

Peyla chimed quietly in her ear, a note of appreciation, and she reached up to gently stroke her companion of years. “Is it beautiful?” she asked, running her hands along it. Another chime, an affirmative. It felt beautiful, and she would trust her sprite's judgement on the looks. More or less, anyway.

She gave the blade it's hilt – bone wrapped with leather for stability and ease of grip. “What would I do without you, Peyla?” she asked quietly, a rhetorical question that she hoped to never have to find the answer to. An unrealistic goal, of course – time would one day claim her companion... or someone else might.

Suddenly, she was reminded of an event that had occurred long ago – a child had tried to steal Peyla from her. The child had been of an acquaintance, she remembered learning later... a Shifter's child that she knew? She couldn't quite remember. It had, clearly, been a long time since they had met. But she did remember the rage and fear she had felt at the girl, as she had tried to trick her into giving up her precious companion.

Rage and fear. Anger and annoyance. Once, she had believed that these were all that a child could inspire in her. But, there had been another, hadn't there – a little brother, a boy of Zenan and Alkidike heritage. He'd been quiet and polite, and his mother had been as well.

She began to sharpen the blade to it's edge - Children, she knew now, were just as different as adults. She could grow to like them just as much as she could hate them, and moreso, because they changed. She was sure that neither of these children – whose names, alas, eluded her – were not the same people they had been when she had met her. It had, after all, been years since.

Such strange creatures children were, indeed. Weapons, however, remained the same. Were weapons her children? She set the finished knife aside for polishing later.

Perhaps... but perhaps not. Weapons and children were different things entirely, after all...