Dyadia and Yaria stood side by side, leaning against the trunk of a towering, moss-covered tree. Yaria, always curious, tugged at a leaf as she glanced around, her eyes wide with excitement at each fluttering bird and rustling bush. Beside her, Dyadia crossed her arms, a faint smirk playing on her lips as she observed the forest protector, her friend, her cinnamon roll, so at ease in the depths of the Misty Marshes.

A presence stirred nearby, and both women looked up. There, stepping cautiously from the fog, was the visitor. Dyadia arched a brow and shared a glance with Yaria, whose face brightened immediately, her open and friendly nature evident.

"Oh, look, Dyadia!" Yaria exclaimed with a delighted smile. "We have company!"

Dyadia studied the newcomer with a measured gaze, her mystic eyes searching for clues and signs, as was her habit. She took her time, watching as Yaria moved closer to greet them, bubbling with genuine friendliness.

"Welcome," Yaria said warmly, hands clasped together. "I'm Yaria, and this is Dyadia. I look after the forest, and Dyadia… well, she looks after everything else, I think." She laughed, a bright, pure sound, and glanced at her friend, who merely gave an enigmatic smile.

Dyadia inclined her head, her voice calm but slightly teasing. "Indeed. The protector of the Misty Marshes, and its people," she added, looking at Yaria with a warmth few ever saw.

Her gaze shifted to their visitor, keen and piercing. "And you? A curious path to bring you here, no doubt." She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening slightly. "Tell me, are you looking for something... or someone?"