Typically, she hated and avoided taverns. Loud, sometimes really filthy, and generally the crowds were either surly and trying to drink their sorrows away or they were loud and very, very drunk. Neither were good for her and her rather…distinctive appearance. But the owner had been paying her by the hour to fix their piping system (a simple fix, but she was in a Dark mood that day and was extending it unnecessarily), so she was in the tavern, trying to keep out of the way of the loud drunk crowd while she worked (or looked like she was working). By pure chance, she managed to catch one of the not-so-drunk-but-well-on-his-way customers announcing to anyone who listened that he was going to take the caravan job at Fort Dumbass from the short and shiny little dwarf, and he was going to protect it so well that even the Gods would fear to challenge it. He was even going to keep everything in such top condition that they would [i]fly[/i] across the route and reach their destination in record time. He also made a number of other boasts that increased in extravagance as he consumed more alcohol. Indeed, listening to him, one might have thought he was all of the Gods combined and could conquer the world in hours. 

Regardless, she pretended to make a final adjustment to the pipes (her own work having been done roughly seven hours ago) and went to the owner to collect her payment and ask where the location of ‘Fort Dumbass’ was. Grateful for her assistance (and just a tad suspicious of the time it took), he gave her excellent directions. She left within the hour, traveling as quickly as she could through Terra. This was a job worth taking. This was better than doing the occasional odd job to repair technology that was often in the hands of people who absolutely didn’t really need it or know how to use it. And besides, it certainly promised adventure. That was how she ended up at Fool’s Redoubt. She would have approached immediately and introduced herself (Certainly, the dwarf dressed extravagantly had to be the one she was looking for!), but stopped in midstride. 

The male Siren was what dumbstruck her. Growing up in UMBRA, she had never seen one. Not even in all of her minor travels across the world. She knew they existed. Sort of. Her mother had mentioned them in passing once. If you could call using them as an insult that was ambiguous and could have easily been interpreted as male Sirens don’t exist a passing mention. So while she was standing there, stunned, a large man with a large hammer passed her and got to them first. Rather than insert herself into the conversation, she chose to stop a couple of feet away and watch quietly as her possible companions arrived. If one was to glance over at her, they’d have noticed her hands were in motion, creating something from bits of sticks and wires and leather. 

The first was the large man with a large hammer. The typical brute, she assumed. Good at acting tough and threatening those who were weaker than him, but there was a likely chance he couldn’t even lift the hammer over his head, much less use it in a fight. Admittedly, she had no room to talk as the best she could do was aim straight with the revolver, but at least she was honest about it. She even looked the part, with her small frame. The next was the daredevil pilot. As she landed, Dirae watched with concern. It was one of her Light days, so she had concern for the unknown pilot, but she also had concern for the plane. Machines that were meant to be loved and cared for shouldn’t be risked unnecessarily. Once she got close enough, she saw at a glance that it was a custom made. She should know, she had made hundreds of custom made things to sell or help someone else out. She was even able to recognize the engine, from the small stint of aerial repair she had done a few months back. All in all, she couldn’t really help herself.

She let go of the hand-spun flying device that vaguely resembled a plane, ignoring where it flew (which was right at the male Siren’s head, coincidentally), and headed straight for the pilot. She was almost skipping, but she managed to maintain enough dignity to walk. Her metal dragon, irritated at the sudden upheaval of its sleeping place (Dirae’s lap), made a buzzing sound of indignation and flew towards the group as well. Though, it didn’t deign to land back on Dirae’s shoulder. Rather, it chose to fly around in lazy circles of the group, occasionally doing a small circle around one of the group member’s heads. Briefly though, she was distracted by the singing tree, missing the person sitting in it. After the shock of seeing a male Siren, however, she was beyond being struck dumb. She kept walking towards the pilot. 

When she was within earshot she immediately began talking, a crinkle around her eyes indicating she was smiling. “Custom made with a Terran engine, am I right? She flies beautifully. You, if you made her, should be proud. She-“ Dirae stopped. She at least had the grace to look abashed and color slightly at how she had barged into the conversation. “I’m sorry. My name is Dirae. I’m here for the caravan job, and to make sure that the caravan’s tech and the tech of those who get hired stays in top condition.” She gave a shrug. “I’m something of a general purpose mechanical genius. But what Siren isn’t?” Her mechanical dragon gave another buzz, this one closer to a buzzsaw whine. She shot it an irritated glance, but didn’t comment. Let it laugh at her. She had made it, she could unmake it. Not that she would. The thing had been around too long for her to imagine life without it.