"Ahoy!"

Lyra blinked. She remembered the face. A pretty thing who'd brought the Sea with her, and quickly caught Mal's eye amidst the crowd. Had she changed her mind about his charms, and come for his company? It 'tis, aye! And she's been shapin' up int' quite a place o' business. Boss'll be inside if yer lookin' fer 'im.

She had magic plants to... plant. 

Lonán appeared next. Lyra grinned at her son, and gladly took up the torch of vulgarity in the wake of his bashfulness, They's bulbs, see? Now, trick wit' fuckers like 'tis is t'bury 'em exactly 'alf an' arm's length down, bloody red clay underneath 'em an' three o' the greenest damn maple leaves ye've ever seen on top. Then, what ye'll 'ave t'do is—

"I am Ampoule—"

Ear twitching, Lyra lifted her gaze again to the elegant woman. Looking for someone.

And had found her, too. Dyname whisked the nymph's attention near instantly after.

Standing, Lyra motioned her son to follow and stepped toward the center of the yard, Well, well! Been avin' our wayfarers spread word we was lookin' t'reunite 'tis lost lass wit' her family, while we tended 'er wounds an' such. Glad we are t'facilitate such a joyful occassion. Eh, mo chuisle? Green eyes flicked down to Lonán.

Would he be willing to part with his sweetheart on such short notice? Would he interfere with his mum's negotiating fair trade for the labour involved in keeping the girl on her feet? They'd shortly find out, she supposed.