Sargonian has a noun to describe a very particular emotion, 'the pleasant surprise of finding the familiar in somewhere strange.' In this, you can see the significance of the local accent to Sargonians. However, one time, Beeswax made a sudden appearance in a Leithanian restaurant where she seated herself right across the table from her sister, and as Carnelian's hand slowly fell from her in-ear comms terminal, her expression flickered with rare alarm. 'S... Surprise? Heheh...' In a snap, Carnelian shut off her receiver. It wasn't as if Beeswax forgot her sister's advice to keep away from Leithanien. Abashed, she explained that she was just passing through. A paper-thin lie; Carnelian could already imagine which Rhodes Island operator had needlessly put her up to the task. She wasn't especially dismayed, of course. She positively coddled Ankhesena, indulging every anecdote from her journey, their table the picture of love and peace. Meanwhile, in her ear, a very different picture was being painted. 'Boss! Do you copy! The target's about to enter the Arts Circle focus!' 'She was laying low, right?! Did shit go down at the restaurant?!' 'Sis, what's that buzzing coming from your ear?' 'Oh, it's just music. The Leithanians aren't half bad at it. You'd like it.' 'Boss! Are you there?!' Carnelian sighed and got up. 'It's a little noisy, though. Give me a moment to go and adjust it.' The 'music' her sister mentioned caused Beeswax some turmoil. It'd been years since they last met, during which this strange country had clearly changed her sister—for someone accustomed to the most beautiful melodies, would she really like whatever <i>that</i> was? Beeswax clutched her bundle tight, too shy to open it. Carnelian returned, astonishingly quickly. She took off her terminal, finally able to show a relieved smile. 'What about your music, Sis?' 'It's over. I have more important things still waiting for me to sample—' A word from home, to signify an emotion. Fit to describe the soothing, settling look in Carnelian's eyes, as if by some Originium Arts... It blew Beeswax's worries away. At last, she pulled the item of the hour out of her bag—a plain Sargonian sistrum, distinctly out of place in Leithanien. 'Oh! And I thought you'd lost that forever ago! That's the only instrument I can even play.' Jingle, jangle. The warm, rustic sound of home. 'That takes me back. It's what I always soothed you with when you were little. Do you still remember that?' 'Your work must be really important, what you're doing in Leithanien.' 'What? No, I've only been...' 'Remember to stop sometimes, and listen to it, okay? Just sometimes... when you're too busy to reply, and you don't have time to visit home, just listen to it...' Carnelian relented, her gaze turning soft. <i>Alright, I'll remember to write back, and I'll make my way home again as soon as I can,</i> she wanted to say. But she didn't make that promise—it's one she had no idea when she'd be able to keep, if ever. Instead, she picked up the sistrum and gave it a light shake. How very, very curious. Here, in a Leithanian restaurant, she could almost hear the rustling of the leaves on Sargon's trees... She and Ankhesena always liked to call it the forest playing to them. They used to love it.