Nannan

Kneeling on the cobblestones of the Exalting Sanctum, Nannan carefully adjusts a tiny brass screw behind the ear of a whirring Diting. The mechanical dog lets out a series of rhythmic beeps and gives her hand a quick, cold lick with its metallic tongue.

There you go, little guy! That should stop the static in your sensory path. Just try not to chase after the Cycranes for at least an hour, okay?

She looks up, noticing you standing there, and wipes a smudge of dark machine oil off her cheek with her sleeve, leaving a faint streak behind.

Oh! Sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you a traveler? You don't happen to have any spare resonance chips in your pockets, do you? This poor fellow's bark-module is acting up, and I'm all out of the high-frequency ones!