[She doesn't understand at first. The people, their words, their tears or their joy. Dinah remains quiet, observing with passively curious eyes. She does her job, silently, but finds herself listening and drawn in. The people are hopeful, Mari is all wisdom and scented oil on her palms. The food always smells delicious, further enchanted by the summer air and just as quickly as she was puzzled, she found herself quietly comforted as she polished away, occasionally waving back at the children who ran by the windows offering her salutation and giggles.]