In their hurry to pack up their things and move to the Edge, Dragomir had misplaced a carefully bundled selection of rocks which, quite honestly, he needed, after making the metal additions for the tub in the Edge. While the endeavor had certainly been worth it (many seemed to enjoy the thing, and damp bodies were commonly seen traipsing from its stone sides now a days), the traffic in and out of the thing alone would merit that he tend to it from time to time, to ensure that the wear and tear, and general issues metal suffered while submerged under water for extended periods, were tended to.

The crafter had stayed the night, having not left the Moon’s Wood until late the previous day, and had risen early, before even the birds, to return home to his darling Ranjiri and sweet Letha. Moving across the bountiful realm of the Earth from his and Ranjiri’s clearing with his package of copper, silver, and miscellaneous stones tucked away in his organized pouches, he sees two mares not too far off the path, and whom he happens to know. One, he remembers mostly from here, while the other he recalls from working in back home, and vaguely from arriving there in the first place – he thinks, anyway, because there had been so much going on, and he’d been quite nervous. Regardless, he definitely knows her as the silver dragon from the digging day, and also considers the woman with her (Syrena) his growing friend.

So, he pulls off the path in the dimmed indigo light of the coming morning, finding the familiarity of the pool comforting. It was, after all, where the fellow crafter had often spent her days, and to see her here again reminded the man of a concept he was slowly coming to truly believe in: everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

"Hello Syrena, and lady Yael," he says as he approaches, bobbing his head in cordial greeting and smiling, though there is some air of reverence to the bow which he gives to the silver dragon (a sacred symbol, to the man of the Dragon Isle, and of Isilme’s blood) which is not present in that which he shares with the finned woman he is more at ease around; looking at each in turn, he ends by placing his gaze on the siren, his deep voice rumbling forth kindly, "it is good to see you again, my friend. How have you been, since the Earth God sent us our separate ways?"